The Interior Battle

The following is an actual conversation—with some embellishment—between my conscience and me as I stared into the open refrigerator one evening last week.

ME:   That piece of vanilla cake looks really good.  I really want it.

Conscience:   But you don’t need it.

ME:   I know I don’t need it, but I want it.

Conscience:   But look.  There’s a bowl of grapes on the shelf right below the cake.  Why don’t you eat those? They’re healthier and you’ll feel better.

ME:   (Taking one grape and eating it).  Okay, so I ate a grape.  But I still want the cake.

Conscience: I think you should eat the grapes.

Me:  I think you should be quiet.  I want the cake.

Conscience:  You’ll regret it.  Can’t you just say no?  The desire for the cake will pass and…

Me: (Taking the cake out of the refrigerator) La la la la…I CAN’T HEAR YOU!

I later regretted eating the cake.  After I ate it I felt heavy, bloated, and tired.  By the way, my real battle is with chocolate chip cookies.  I love chocolate chip cookies! But I digress.

Why haven’t I learned that even though it feels (or tastes) good in the moment, it is not necessarily good for me?

We face this interior battle every day.  It is the result of original sin.  Before Adam and Eve sinned, their intellects and wills directed their passions (they were naked and unashamed); after they sinned their intellects were darkened, their wills were weakened, and their passions reigned (they were naked and ashamed).  Our intellects and wills have also been darkened and weakened, and at times our passions get the best of us.  As a result, we often choose things that satisfy a momentary craving but are bad for us in the long-term.

The example of my own battle with the vanilla cake is a humorous but true illustration of a weak will: I wanted what was going to feel good for the moment, but it was really not good for me.  However, there are more serious examples.  For instance, the unhappy husband who has allowed himself to feel deeper sentiments toward a female friend than he does for his wife.  He may feel the need to act on these feelings, but to do it would be very sinful.  And as he contemplates acting on these feelings his conscience is trying to tell him that his marriage vows are what should be dictating his feelings and behavior.

If we are serious about growing in holiness, then we must learn to deny ourselves certain pleasures.  This is not to say that everything we choose is sinful or that the passions and emotions are bad; however, our passions and emotions can sometimes be misleading and they need to be tutored by grace and informed by truth.  If we live our lives dictated by our unruly passions, and not by a well-formed conscience, then we are bound to live in turmoil.

Are there times when we can allow ourselves to eat a piece of cake?  Sure.  But are there times when we ought to abstain from the cake for reasons of spiritual discipline?  Absolutely.  Each day we can offer little “mortifications” that bring the sometimes-unreasonable demands of the body under the control of the will and intellect.

What are some ways we can do this in our daily lives?

• Say no to that sugary dessert and instead have a piece of fruit
• Have one less cup of coffee
• Turn the television off and spend time reading a good book
• Be silent when we’re tempted to participate in gossip
• Consciously stop ourselves when we’re tempted to speak an unkind word about someone
• Smile at people as we are waiting in the very long and slow checkout line (‘tis the season!)

It’s important for us to develop a contemplative stance toward our passions and emotions.  We must be able to step back and reflect upon what we are feeling in any given moment.  By doing this we will be less inclined to let our emotions and passions rule and we will be more in tune with our conscience and the promptings of the Holy Spirit within us.

Not everything that feels good is good for us, and sometimes what seems painful is actually good for us.  The greatest good was brought about through the greatest suffering: Jesus redeemed us by his suffering and death.  His pain is our gain.  We can learn to unite ourselves to his suffering when we deny ourselves.  And just as the suffering of Jesus led to the glory of His Resurrection, the fruit of self-denial is greater joy, peace, and interior freedom in our souls.

(NOTE: Recently, one of my readers informed me that one of the “possibly related posts” was pretty distasteful.  I want to be clear that those links at the end of my articles are automatically generated.  I have nothing to do with those related posts.  I will try to figure out how to remove that feature)

(ANOTHER NOTE: I fully intend to keep this blog going, but last week was unusually packed for me.  My goal is to post at least once or twice a week.  Thanks for your patience!)