A new pattern?

Over the past two-plus decades, I've found my spirituality characterized by fits and spurts. I'll hum along for a few weeks, a couple months, having fairly consistent prayer time for a while, then have prolonged periods in which I pursue other interests - some merely unfocused, others downright otherwise-directed.

There's not much doubt about the reason. I've certainly resisted being transformed in all the ways I believe God is calling me. I think I've been convinced, as I think we tend to be prone to (and to put it in the most basic terms), that I'm going to miss out on the real fun, comfort, excitement, etc., if I become "too saintly," as if that were possible. Of course, that's a pretty immature view of God, myself, and the world.

In recent years, I've noticed my more focused times have tended to occur in Advent and Lent; the rest of the year I've been more susceptible to spiritual aimlessness. These more penitential and preparatory seasons seemed to grab and hold my spiritual attention, and give me a hunger to become more than I have been. But within a couple weeks after Christmas or Easter, I would again be drifting into old patterns, uncommitted to my prayer time and thus easily distracted in my walk.

This Easter season seems different and wonderful. Perhaps its because of a deeper Lent, in which I consciously strove to view as more deeply rooted in grace than in my own efforts. Regardless of the cause, as we approach the feast of the Ascension (now observed on Sunday in our archdiocese), I have indeed seen myself begin to drift as before. But instead of going there, I've found an openness to grace that, at least for now, has overcome my past pattern. Instead of being easily squeezed out of my morning prayer time, it has become a consistent part of each morning. I've become committed to it in a new way. I don't mean "with a new tenacity," but in a less gut-it-out, more natural, peaceful way. So rather than gradually becoming routine marked by increasing distraction and detachment, I've found it gifted time to really encounter and soak in God's presence each day.

I don't pat myself on the back for this. I don't believe it is my doing, but God's grace. A funny paradox, that. We must participate in grace for it to bear fruit in our lives, yet that participation is, in itself, a gift of grace.

I suppose it's the chicken and the egg.