When Temptation Comes

Losing Peace

Maggie: Father, I lost my patience with the kids again yesterday. By the end of the day, I felt completely frazzled. Then I got distracted in prayer, and I went to bed thinking, “I should be farther along than this.”

Fr. Sal: You didn’t think you’d still be tempted?

Maggie: I guess not. At least not this much.

Fr. Sal: Because the saints were never tempted?

Maggie: Well, no.

Fr. Sal: And Jesus was never tempted either, I suppose?

Maggie: No. Of course He was.

Fr. Sal: Then is it true that holy people aren’t tempted?

Maggie: No.

Fr. Sal: So where’d that idea come from?

Maggie: Not from Jesus.

Fr. Sal: That’s for sure. And if it doesn’t come from Him, do you want to keep listening to it?

Maggie: No.

Fr. Sal: What happened when you did?

Maggie: I got anxious. Discouraged.

Fr. Sal: Before the impatience?

Maggie: Yes.

Fr. Sal: Before the distraction in prayer?

Maggie: Yes.

Fr. Sal: Then where did all this really begin?

Maggie: When I believed the lie.

Fr. Sal: And what was the first thing you lost?

Maggie: My peace.

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Not Every Feeling Is a Choice

Maggie: Sometimes I feel guilty the moment an impatient thought pops into my head.

Fr. Sal: Did you choose the first thought?

Maggie: No.

Fr. Sal: Did you invite it in and offer it a chair?

Maggie: No.

Fr. Sal: Then why assume you’ve already failed?

Maggie: Because it feels so real.

Fr. Sal: The feeling is real. But is it a choice?

Maggie: No.

Fr. Sal: Is feeling impatient the same as choosing impatience?

Maggie: No. I suppose not.

Fr. Sal: Absolutely, one hundred percent not.

Maggie: I think I spend a lot of time condemning myself before I’ve even decided what to do.

Fr. Sal: Condemning yourself—or listening to a condemning voice?

Maggie looks down and grows quiet.

Maggie: I never thought about the difference.

Fr. Sal: Does Jesus correct us?

Maggie: Yes.

Fr. Sal: Does He leave us without hope?

Maggie: No.

Fr. Sal: Then if a voice tells you, “You’ve already failed. You’ll never change. God must be tired of you,” does that sound like Him?

Maggie: No.

Fr. Sal: Where’s your attention when you’re listening to that voice?

Maggie: On me. On everything wrong with me.

Fr. Sal: That’s right. And where is Jesus calling you to look?

Maggie: At Him.

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Caring for Your Heart

Fr. Sal: Let’s shift gears a bit. When is it hardest for you to remain peaceful?

Maggie: Late afternoon.

Fr. Sal: Why do you think that is?

Maggie: I’m hungry, the kids are tired, dinner isn’t ready, my husband isn’t home yet, and everybody needs something from me at once.

Fr. Sal: And before you hit that breaking point, what’s usually running through your mind?

Maggie: I’ve got to keep pushing.

Fr. Sal: Does that sound like Jesus—or not Jesus?

Maggie: Not Jesus.

Fr. Sal: Good. Maybe it’s exhaustion. Maybe it’s habit. Maybe the enemy’s taking advantage of both. But if it isn’t leading you toward Christ, do you need to keep listening?

Maggie: No. So what would Jesus want me to do instead?

Fr. Sal: What do you think?

Maggie: Stop pushing. Come back to Him.

Fr. Sal: Come back to Him?

Maggie: Yeah. Breathe. Say a little prayer. Look at the crucifix. Maybe stretch for a few seconds.

Fr. Sal: And what if everybody needs you at once? Are you gonna tell the kids, “Sorry, Mommy’s taking a contemplative retreat”?

Maggie: Exactly. That sounds lovely, Father, but at four-thirty I don’t exactly get to disappear for twenty minutes.

Fr. Sal: Who said twenty minutes?

Maggie: Well, how long?

Fr. Sal: Five seconds.

Maggie: Five seconds?

Fr. Sal: Sure. Will it fix the whole afternoon?

Maggie: No.

Fr. Sal: But might it keep you from carrying the next moment alone?

Maggie: Yes. Though I might need to do it more than once.

Fr. Sal: You probably will. Come back five seconds now, five seconds later, five seconds after that. Jesus isn’t rationing His help.

Maggie: So I don’t have to restore myself for the next two hours.

Fr. Sal: Can you?

Maggie: No.

Fr. Sal: But can He give you grace for the next moment?

Maggie: Yes.

Fr. Sal: And what if noticing that you’re pushing is already Jesus inviting you to return?

Maggie: Then He’s already helping me before I even turn.

Fr. Sal: Now you’re getting somewhere.

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Turn to Him

Maggie: But what about when the temptation is already here?

Fr. Sal: Have you ever stood in the ocean?

Maggie: Many times.

Fr. Sal: Did the waves always knock you over?

Maggie: No.

Fr. Sal: And when they did?

Maggie: I laughed, stood up, and kept going.

Fr. Sal: Why?

Maggie: Because that’s what happens at the ocean.

Fr. Sal: Perhaps life is like the ocean. The waves keep coming.

Maggie: And you’d be silly not to expect them.

Fr. Sal: Right. So when the wave comes?

Maggie: Let it pass without panicking. Keep my feet if I can.

Fr. Sal: And if you can’t?

Maggie: Get back up.

Fr. Sal: With a little drama or a lot?

Maggie: As little as possible.

Fr. Sal: Good. We’re talking about ordinary waves here—impatience, distraction, comparison, a stumble. Something serious and repeated needs more. But every splash doesn’t need a funeral.

Maggie: So I can laugh a little, get back up…

Fr. Sal: And?

Maggie: Turn to Him.

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Begin Again

Fr. Sal: Back when you thought holy people shouldn’t be tempted, how did you expect Jesus to look when you fell?

Maggie: Disappointed.

Fr. Sal: Almost exactly how you looked at your kids when they were learning to walk, right? Every fall, another crushing disappointment.

Maggie smiles.

Maggie: No. I smiled and encouraged them.

Fr. Sal: Hmm. So do you think Jesus…?

Maggie: I know what you’re trying to make me say.

Fr. Sal: I’m not trying to make you say anything. Do you believe it?

Maggie: I want to believe He’s smiling and encouraging me. I’m just not sure I always can.

Fr. Sal: Does your difficulty believing it change His face?

Maggie pauses.

Maggie: No.

Fr. Sal: Then maybe He’s smiling at you right now while you listen to this crazy priest.

Maggie: Maybe He is.

Fr. Sal: St. Francis de Sales reminds us to be patient with everyone, but especially with ourselves. Not because sin doesn’t matter. Discouragement may visit us, but surrendering to it never brings us closer to Christ.

Maggie: So when I stumble, I don’t stay there.

Fr. Sal: Nope.

Maggie: I lift my eyes.

Fr. Sal: Yep.

Maggie: I reach for His hand.

Fr. Sal: And then?

Maggie: Begin again.

Fr. Sal: Begin again—peacefully.

Maggie: Father, I came in thinking my problem was temptation.

Fr. Sal: And now?

Maggie: Temptation isn’t the whole problem. It’s what happens when I start pushing and lose my peace.

Fr. Sal: And what are you gonna do when you notice that?

Maggie: Return my heart to Christ and let Him care for it.

Fr. Sal: That sounds like the beginning of wisdom.

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