Feeling Low

WE’VE ALL had the feeling of being run- down at times. And a long stretch of grey winter days doesn’t help. But I’m thinking of those who are feeling, not physically run down, but spiritually run down. This kind of depression needs something more than a few days of sunshine to put matter right.
Devotions we once made with fervour seem to have lost their attraction. We feel that Mass and the sacraments have become routine, and the gospels no longer speak to us. God seems remote. We feel that God
can have no interest in our half-hearted efforts. We have a vague feeling of dissatisfaction without being able to put our finger on just where the problem is.
What can we do? Well, the first thing is to accept that we are run down spiritually. It’s nothing to be ashamed of any more than we can help being physically run down at times. Feelings like this are not unusual; and they don’t mean that we have lost touch with God, or that God has lost touch with us. Feelings are tricky things at the best of times. We can’t have the feeling of being in love and being sea-sick at the same time, but it doesn’t mean you’ve stopped loving your fiancée because you’re feeling unwell.
Any form of life means the possibility of sickness as well as health. So it is in the Christian life, the life of faith. And the good news is that being run-down spiritually can be the prelude to growth in the spirit. If our lives are well ordered, if we are faithful to our commitments, then this could be a sign of God calling us to a deeper friendship.
It can be very unsettling, of course at first. It can bring with it a sense of confusion and uncertainty as we try to come to terms with a new phase of our lives. We are familiar with the problems of moving through adolescence to maturity, and in our life of faith, too, growth and change can be expected.

There may well be times when we realise that from now on we will be serving God in a different way. We may have to change our ideas about what God is like and what God wants of us, what it really means to love God and our neighbour – and ourself.
In the gospel we see just such a crisis in the life of St Peter. John 21.1-19 Jesus asks
him only one question; do you love me? And Peter must surely have gone back in his mind to the time when he had boasted ‘I will never lose faith in you. Even if I have to die I will never disown you.’ Peter knew now how empty that boast had been. He had lost faith. He had disowned Jesus. He had failed.
The experience of failure shattered his illusions about himself. It gave him a more realistic idea of what following Christ means. Peter was a changed man now He had grown in understanding of himself in trying to follow Christ – who now invites him to reaffirm his faith, just as he will ask us to reaffirm our faith in saying the Creed together each Sunday.
Peter could have no illusions now about what it costs to be a true follower. His answer is quieter, humbler, less full of himself, more full of Christ. ‘Yes, Lord, you know that I love you – in spite of my failure.’
Peter’s experience is a lesson for all of us. Our faith is a living thing, a growing thing. Like Peter, we may well experience some form of crisis along the way. When that happens it is vital to remember that God is still at work in us; that trials and temptations and periods of sheer weariness are a normal part of life. Through these difficulties, God is leading us gradually to a more mature faith, to a greater love.
Crisis means danger plus opportunity. The danger is that we choose to give in to upsets. The opportunity is to grow in loving kindness. The first choice is easier, but leads nowhere: the second is harder, but leads to God. There can be only one choice for a Christian – to say with Peter, whatever happens – ‘Lord, you know that I love you.’
Peter Knott SJ