"CONTINUE THINE FOREVER"

Saturday after Passion Sunday

For forty days and forty nights the Lord Jesus was in the desert. He went there, following His baptism, led by the Spirit. The Spirit was with Him as He fasted and prayed, when He encountered temptation and when He trounced the devil. Our forty days with Him will soon end. The same Spirit that led the Lord leads us, too. Because of our spiritual dullness, we usually aren’t “aware” of it, and few of us do much of anything about it, but the Spirit was specially gifted to you—do you remember?

Some time back, maybe so long you can’t remember much of it, the Bishop pressed his hands on your head and prayed: “Defend, O Lord, this Thy Child with Thy heavenly grace; that (s)he may continue Thine for ever; and daily increase in Thy Holy Spirit more and more, until (s)he come unto Thy everlasting kingdom.” Your confirmation may have been when you were given presents and had your pictures made with a lot of overdressed relatives, but it was also when the Lord gave you what you need to mature as a Christian.

That prayer the bishop said, like so many other good things, is simple. But it’s packed full as a good knapsack. The bishop asked God to protect you; not from bug-bites or broken toes but from falling prey to the devil. He doesn’t pray you won’t be tempted—he doesn’t even pray you won’t sin—but that whatever comes, you’ll “continue God’s forever”: nothing will snatch you from His hand. At the core of the prayer lies the heart of our Christian life. He asks that God’s Spirit—His life lived in us—“will daily increase more and more.” This is what Lent has been all about.

Our Evangelical friends talk about “being saved.” By that, they mean (best I’ve been able to deduce after many years of being asked whether or not I “was”), “Have you accepted Jesus Christ as your personal Savior?” If you answer “yes” in a way that meets their satisfaction, you’re saved. Even among Evangelicals, though, there are disagreements about this their basic concern. Some believe once you’re saved, you’re in. You’ve made it forever. Others disagree and warn of the possibility of “backsliding.” Christians in the Catholic tradition, though, following the teaching enshrined in the bishop’s confirmation prayer, hold otherwise.

The prayer asks that we will “daily increase” in the life of the Spirit “more and more, until we come” into God’s “heavenly Kingdom.” When the concerned Evangelical asks if we’re “saved,” it’s fair to ask, “from what?” You know the answer as well as I do. Hellfire, brimstone, dancing devils and all those tedious people you thought you’d never have to see again. Is this why God became incarnate, to free us from burning to a crisp?

“Continue Thine forever” leads us away from fretting over hell’s terrors to the contemplation of Heaven’s joys.

The Church doesn’t turn our gaze to our sins every Lent to scare us, but so we’ll recognize who our enemies are. I’ll risk the trite possibilities of the phrase and say “sin is not good for us” as much as it tries to look like it is. Sin masquerades as attractive, interesting, sophisticated or pleasurable until it entangles us. Then, when we’re in their nets, the devils (who we don’t even know are there) slowly pull us in. They’ve got us so well-trained the only thing we really notice is that we’re not enjoying all this so much anymore. Listen to an alcoholic’s tale. A lot of “seasoned” alcoholics tell you how much they hate drinking. Yet, even among AA members, recidivism rates are more than 90%. There are no groups for those of us who suffer from chronic arrogance, but as one of that number, I’ve got to guess it’s even higher.

Sin isn’t generically dangerous. I’m not a sinner because I exist, but because I commit sins; real ones, in my daily life. I lie and scheme and get jealous and try to get the people I don’t like at work fired. And because sins are real acts, they can be addressed. We can not sin, if we’re willing to call on God for help. He’ll give us His Spirit—His Grace—if we ask. But think back to the last time you sinned (I hope you have to think for a minute, but since I’m a practiced sinner, it’s not hard). Chances are, you didn’t put up much of a fight (I’m imagining that your sin wasn’t embezzling $29 million but more along the lines of spreading a bit of irresistible gossip). It might not have even occurred to you what you were doing was sinful—not really sinful—until later. That’s not because it wasn’t; it’s because you’re as well-trained as I am. Even if you later thought something like “I shouldn’t have said that about her,” we pretty much know our sins are a lot less serious than other people’s.

So ask God to show you your sins. St Teresa of Avila tells us how gentle God is with us. “The Lord will only show us as much of our sins as we can bear to see,” she says. “He doesn’t want to drive us to despair, but repentance.” As you become aware of your sins, ask the Lord to help you fight them. “Help me not to gossip, Lord.” Give something up, now and then, undramatically (like the bowl of banana cream pie you were going to have for desert) to help your fight. If you ask the Lord, He’ll be present and the next time the tempter pulls your string, you’ll remember Jesus. Now you’ve got the ball. Which team are you playing for?

If we accustom ourselves to making the choice of Grace, we’re “daily” increasing in the Holy Spirit, and on our way to “continuing” His forever. Holiness, trite but true, is a habit. It’s something we learn.

When we “come to the everlasting Kingdom,” we will be endlessly delighted but not surprised. We learn to speak the language of Heaven, St Bernard of Clairvaux tells us, here on earth. This Lent, I hope you’ve broadened your vocabulary.