The Hardest, Hardest Thing to Do

What Jesus is teaching me about obedience

In the last few weeks, I’ve been getting so many lessons on obedience. God is taking me through the school of hard knocks and delightful surprises.

I don’t know about you, but for me obedience is the hardest part about striving to become a saint. Humility and obedience go hand in hand, and neither of them comes easy to me.

One thing I found out is that the opposite of obedience is not disobedience—the opposite is willfulness, which is rooted in the greatest of all sins, Pride. Wanting things my way, with or without good reason. Usually, I believe I have a very good reason.

Here’s one willful thing I thought up until a few days ago: “That ridiculous Prayer for Eucharistic Revival that we say at every Mass makes me feel like a hypocrite. Don’t I personally have enough to apologize for; do I really have to apologize for other people?”

So I refused to say that prayer in church. Instead, I muttered the Jesus Prayer under my breath: Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.

The first few times, I felt silent approval from the tabernacle… but then it stopped. No disapproval, either. I’m sure Jesus doesn’t mind me praying the Jesus Prayer. But it got me thinking.

Next, someone pointed out to me that the “ridiculous prayer” is indeed the prayer the angel taught the children at Fatima to say. Oops.

The Holy Spirit also reminded me that we do the exact same thing in the Divine Mercy Chaplet: “In atonement for our sins and those of the whole world.” And in the Morning Offering: “I offer you my prayers, works, joys, and sufferings… for the salvation of souls, the reparation of sins…” Not just my sins, but everyone else’s too.

For the last two days, I’ve been taking up praying the Prayer for Eucharistic Revival again instead of doing my own thing, and Jesus has been giving me the thumbs up. It’s what he wants, so I do it.

Same with the church music. I dislike it when the musicians make up their own melodies for the liturgical chants. I find it irreverent and it makes me angry. But recently I’ve been thinking, is it just that I’m a creature of habit and don’t like changes in the Mass settings? Could I maybe just get over myself?

For the second week in a row, on orders of the Holy Spirit, I went to that one particular Sunday Mass that I’d been dreading so much. This time, the musician I had such objections to was there and playing—and yet, it was nice. Maybe not what I’d prefer, but nice. And surprisingly, it did feel good to get over myself and just do what I was told.

That wasn’t all, though. In the past week or so, I’ve been bombarded with Mass readings, homilies, videos, Bible verses, social media posts, and real-life events that— independent of each other—all point to the big-picture themes of division and unity, particularly in the Church.

Just a few days ago, I got into a heated discussion with a woman—let’s call her Sally—on the official Facebook group for the Catechism in a Year. She was a Catholic convert like me, and she kept insisting that anyone who believed in the Real Presence of Jesus in the Eucharist should have the right to receive Holy Communion, whether they were a Catholic or not.

Of course, that’s wrong. You have to be in a state of grace to receive the Eucharist—otherwise you hurt Jesus and offend God and bring grave consequences onto yourself. And you can’t be in a state of grace if you never went to Confession.

I got so upset with Sally… until I realized that the reason I was so upset was that she uncomfortably reminded me of myself. (These “mirror people” who God puts in your path, by the way… that’s a thing that happens for everyone. Once you become aware of this, you’ll see them quite frequently, and the lessons they can teach you are marvelous. But that’s another topic for another post.)

She was just like me. When I first converted, I didn’t see why I should agree with each and every one of the Catholic Church’s teachings. I thought I could pick and choose which of the doctrines I wanted to believe in.

Mary and the saints as intercessors? Nah, I didn’t need those “middlemen.”

The Real Presence? Nah, that was for the daily-Mass fanatics.

No contraception, no divorce, no sex outside of marriage, no masturbation? Nah, that was just ancient claptrap that didn’t pertain to today’s society anymore.

And I constantly argued with my late RCIA teacher, God bless his soul.

She’s like I used to be. That’s what I thought at first about Facebook Sally. But then I realized, No. She’s like I am, right now. Argumentative, stubborn, willful.

In last year’s Bible in a Year (virtual) retreat, Fr. Mike Schmitz said one way we can usually tell that we’re making an idol of God—that is, making Him into something he isn’t—is when we notice that God happens to like all the same things we like and hates all the same things we hate.

Eileen George, my favorite saint-in-the-making, said that no disobedient person will ever become a saint.

And then there’s St. Padre Pio of Pietrelcina, who obeyed his superiors and the Archbishop to a T, even though he was grossly mistreated by the Church and basically kept a prisoner in his own monastery.

That, of course, raises the question, “How far should obedience go?”

Don’t worry, whispers the Holy Spirit, that’s not even a question for you yet. You haven’t even scratched the surface of true obedience.

I have to (reluctantly) agree. What is asked of me right now is small stuff. So do I sweat the small stuff? Do I really want to be so stubborn to make every pet peeve of mine this huge deal?

Jesus is working so hard on me, I can tell. He takes my stubborn insistence on being right and then gently pokes me and nudges me and squeezes me until I gradually acquiesce—always accompanied by moaning and groaning and clenching of teeth. Last week, I jokingly said to him that it must feel like Shakespeare’s Taming of the Shrew to deal with me.

I think, by the way, I said the same thing to Father J. once. Now I have the Big Three working on me directly, without the intercessor.

The amazing thing is, though, Jesus is getting there. He’s doing it, and I can feel myself change, day by day, just the tiniest bit. The combo of the Body AND the Blood seems to be helping. Every time I receive both, I feel the most minuscule shift in my spirit. It’s barely perceptible, but it’s there. And the more I let go and obey and just follow the Holy Spirit’s promptings, the easier it gets… and good things always follow.

As Fr. Mike said, Frank Sinatra’s “I did it my way” is actually Satan’s hymn because doing it our way, “my will, not Thy will” is how we drift further and further away from God.

It costs God nothing, so far as we know, to create nice things; but to convert rebellious wills cost His crucifixion.

—C.S. Lewis

I’m sure I’ll still take one step forward and two steps back, as I usually do. Transformation is not a linear thing, at least not for me.

But… baby steps. Love you, Jesus, and thanks for being so patient with me.