Salesian Literature

Letters on:

Overcoming Fear, Temptation, Failure and Discouragement

1. We must be patient as we seek perfection    ::    2. Have courage, for you have only just begun   ::    3. Be gentle and charitable to your soul

4. God loves greater infirmity with greater tenderness   ::    5. We must bear ourselves until God bears us to Heaven   

6. Self-love can be mortified, but never dies   ::    7. We must attain holy indifference   ::    8. Lean on the mercy of God

9. To change the world, we must change ourselves   ::    10. In patience shall you possess your soul   ::    11. Do not worry yourself about temptations  

12. We must not be fearful of fear   ::    13. Constrain yourself only to your serving God well   ::    14. True simplicity is always good and agreeable to God

15. We must do all by love and nothing by force   ::    16. Be then all for God

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13. Constrain yourself only to serving God well

To Jane de Chantal, on calming the troubled spirit

 

My dear child,

 

At last I write to you, by Monsieur Favre, and still without full leisure, for I have had to write many letters, and although you are the last to whom I write, I have no fear of forgetting.  I was sorry the other day to have written you so many things on this trouble of mind that you had.  For since it was nothing in real truth, and since when you had communicated it to Father Gentil, it all vanished, I had only to say “Deo Gratias.”  But, you see, my soul is liable to outpourings with you, and with all those whom I love.

 

Oh God!  My child, what good your hurts do me!  For then I pray with more attention, I put myself before Our Lord with more purity of intention, I place myself more wholly in indifference.  But, believe me, either I am the most deluded man in the world or our resolutions are both from God and unto His greater glory.

 

No, my child, look not either to left or right; and I do not mean do not look at all, but do not look so as to occupy yourself, to examine anxiously, to hamper and entangle your spirit in considerations from which you can find no outlet.  For if, after so much time, after so many petitions to God, we cannot decide without difficulty, how can we expect by considerations, some coming without any reflection, others arising from simple feelings and taste – how can we expect, I say, to decide well?

 

So then, let us leave that alone, let us speak of it no more.  Let us speak of a general rule that I want to give you: it is that in all I say to you, you must not be too particular.  All is meant in a large sense, for I would not have you constrain your sprit to anything, save to serve God well, and not to abandon but to love your resolutions.  As for me, I so love mine that whatever I see seems to me insufficient to take away an ounce of the esteem I have of them, even though I see and consider others more excellent and more exalted.

 

Ah!  My dear child, that also is an entanglement about which you write to me via Monsieur de Sauzea.  This dreadful din… Oh God, my child, when it happens to you, can you not prostrate yourself before God and say to Him quite simply, “Yes, Lord, if you will it, I will it;  and if you wish it not, I wish it not,” and then pass on to some little exercise or act that may serve as a distraction?

 

But, my child, what you do instead is this: when this trifling matter presents itself, your mind is grieved, and does not want to look at it.  It fears that this may check it; this fear draws away the strength of your mind, and leaves the poor thing faint, sad, and trembling.  This fear displeases it, and brings forth another fear lest this first fear, and the fright that it gives, be the cause of the evil; and so you entangle yourself.  You fear the fear; then you fear the fear of fear.  You are vexed at the vexation, and then you are vexed for being vexed at the vexation.  So I have seen many, who, having got angry, are afterward angry for getting angry.  And all this is like the rings that are made in water, when a stone is thrown in; a little circle is formed, and this forms a greater, and this last another.

 

What remedy is there, my dear child?  After the grace of God, the remedy is not to be so delicate.  Consider (here is another outpouring of my spirit, but there is no help for it): those who cannot suffer the itching of an insect and expect to get rid of it by dint of scratching, flay their hands.  Laugh at the greater part of these troubles; do not stop to think about throwing them off; laugh at them; turn away to some action; try to sleep well.  Imagine (I mean to say, think) that you are little St. John, who is going to sleep; and rest on the bosom of Our Lord, in the arms of His Providence.

 

And courage, my child.  We have no desire except for the glory of God, is that not so?  No, no, at least certainly not any known desire; for if we knew it, we would instantly tear it from our heart.  And so, what do we torment ourselves about?  Vive Jesus!  I think sometimes, my child, that we are filled with Jesus; at least we have no deliberate contrary will.  It is not in a spirit of arrogance I say this, my child; it is in a spirit of trust and to encourage ourselves…

 

I find it is nine o’clock at night; I must have my supper, and I must say the Office so as to be able to preach at eight tomorrow, but I seem to be unable to tear myself away from this paper.

 

And now I must tell you, in addition, this little folly; it is that I preach much to my liking in this place.  I say something I scarcely know what it is, which these good people understand so well that they would willingly almost answer me.

 

Adieu, my child, my dearest child.  I am, without compare,

 

Yours,

Francis

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