The demon of pride conducts the soul to its worst fall. It urges it: not to admit God’s help, and to believe that the soul is responsible for its own achievements, and to disdain the brethren as fools because they do not all see this about it. This demon is followed by: anger and sadness and the final evil, utter insanity and madness, and visions of mobs of demons in the air. (Evagrius Pontificus, 345-399, The Eight (Bad)Thoughts, found at Early Church Texts, public page, www.earlychurchtexts.com)

I didn’t come into this world self-delivered, and I didn’t grow without help. My life is connected to other lives – family, friends, mentors, and other practitioners of my craft. I build on the knowledge and work of others, adding mine to it along with every other person on the planet. While I write the reflections on this blog, I did not create the language. While my reflections aren’t anyone else’s, the help and encouragement of others was and is necessary. If I think otherwise, I kid myself.

The delusion pride plunges my spirit into is much worse than trying to claim full credit for my achievements. Pride puts me in a universe whose center is me, a creation all about me and all for me. My soul doesn’t need God’s help and I can do just fine all by myself. Dependency is for weaker souls, and it is only their blindness that allows others to question my self-efficacy and my self-sufficiency. Others may need God, but not me – a lie I want to believe. Pride pushes me to remake God in my image – the final idolatry.

Living such a false reality is exhausting, though. Other people break into my reality with their own, and the Spirit hovers over me in spite of my bad behavior;  God and my neighbors call me back from the brink, returning me to myself and to this God-given and God-sustained creation. My soul settles down and I can breathe again – no longer center of the universe, and no longer alone. It is more than enough: it is grace.

What about the mobs of demons that Evagrius writes about? Are they real? Oh, yes. I believe it’s the face of everyone else and the presence of the Spirit, distorted by the utter insanity and madness that is the reality lived in pride. The self-created false world is hell.

Icons are created to point us toward God and help us be drawn into God’s reality. They are works of faith and prayer first, artistic endeavors second. They are created with a reverse perspective. The colors, poses, and objects are all part of a faith language designed to deepen the prayer life of the one who gazes upon it. We come before an icon with the expectation that God will meet us. The icon that we pray before drops away, and the Spirit comes to envelop us. Icons tell a deep truth and encourage us to participate in it: God’s reality is much larger than our own, and the Spirit draws us into it.

Iconographers don’t sign their icons. Their creations are meant to point to God, not indicate who created the icon. Putting a name on an icon may lead the faithful to concentrate on the artist rather than God. An icon that doesn’t lead to a deeper experience of God is pointless – literally! Iconographers create them with prayer and for prayer, not to be admired for their own sake.

Vainglory is seeking credit and admiration, wanting our name in lights. It is a hunger to be seen and admired by others, to make a mark on the world never to be forgotten. All activities and talents are self-referential, pointing to us and going no farther. But all the fame and credit in the world won’t create a satisfying, meaningful life, and we won’t meet God through them.

Perhaps iconographers know a truth about fame and recognition that is easily forgotten: If your life wasn’t enough beforehand, it won’t be enough after.

The thought of vainglory is especially subtle and it easily infiltrates those whose lives are going well – wanting to publish their efforts, and go hunting for glory among [men] people; it raises up a fantasy of demons shouting, and women being healed, and a crowd of people wanting to touch the monk’s clothes. It prophesies priesthood for him, and sets the stage with people thronging at his door, calling for him, and, even though he resists he will be carried off under constraint. Then, having raised him up with empty hopes like this, it suddenly leaps away and leaves him… (The Eight Bad Thoughts, Evagrius of Pontus, 345-399. Found on public pages of Early Church Texts, earlychurchtexts.com)

Forbearance: the quality of someone who is patient and able to deal with a difficult person or situation without becoming angry. (merriam-webster.com/dictionary)

In Law: the action of refraining from exercising a legal right, esp. enforcing the payment of a debt. (New Oxford American Dictionary)

In this age of litigation, forbearance in general and in legal matters is rare. No one wants to get taken advantage of, and getting less than is due is seen more as a failure of judgement than an act of virtue or wisdom.

I know two men whose lives reveal this action of the Spirit. Bob, a small town lawyer, and Bill, a businessman. Bob developed a piece of property with three of his friends, and Bill brought a partner into his growing business. Bob’s three friends pulled out of the deal, leaving Bob to pay off the debt. Bill’s friend took money from the business, leaving him with little to show for years of work.

I didn’t know Bob or Bill when these things happened, but I’ve had the privilege of knowing them both for many years. Neither one is bitter, and anger doesn’t rule them. Whatever the cost of betrayal and bad behavior, they paid it in full.

Why is forbearance possible for them when it seems out of reach for so many others? Maybe they live a truth many have forgotten: we act with generosity and forbearance not because someone else is worthy of it, but because it is how God acts with us.

When we face a grievous loss – of a loved one, a job, a marriage, or health – depression can be an inevitable and appropriate response, providing a time-out to allow for healing. But what if one responded to such a loss with a casual yawn, as if none of it had mattered in the first place? That is the horror of acedia…

(Kathleen Norris, Acedia & me: New York, Riverhead Books, 2008, pp.23-24)

Acedia is the noonday demon, the soul on novocain. The clock seems to stop, the day stretches out forever as a vast wasteland of boredom. Work is a waste of time, other people uncaring, and everything good is somewhere else. Why bother with any of it? Listlessness sets in. This demon is subtle, bringing with it the delusion that vacating the present life situation isn’t only desirable, but noble. The question then arises: don’t I owe it to myself to leave behind this meaningless life?

Sometimes, things need to change. A harmful situation should be left immediately, but acedia isn’t about that. Acedia is throwing away the good and holy life God has provided. Acedia is not moving toward something good, it’s seeing everything good in the here and now as useless and boring. The “if only” thoughts arrive: if only I had a more caring spouse, if only others recognized my gifts, if only this place had a better view and congenial neighbors…A change of scenery won’t help because acedia lives in the discontented soul, not in the external location.

Cullen Story, professor and extraordinary pastor, used to give students and ministers a way to distinguish between acedia’s temptation to leave a life situation and God’s call to move forward: Until you love the location and people God has given you, you aren’t ready to leave.

A few years back, my husband Dave and I attended a party where I worked. Dave is a great listener, so I wasn’t surprised others talked to him about their lives, including my friend and co-teacher, Bill. The next morning, Bill said about Dave, “I felt worthwhile in his presence.”

My friend Heidi creates a welcoming space for youth at church and on mission trips. Young people tell her about their dreams and their hurts, and they share their questions about God and life with her – something they don’t do with many people. Knowing someone’s life story is a gift, and not everyone is worthy of that gift.

Gentleness is subtle, underrated and sometimes overlooked. Gentle spirits create a quiet, accepting space for others. They deepen the spiritual lives of others simply by being present. It’s hard to put into words, but here is my best attempt:

When someone affirms your true worth and honors your life story without saying a word, you are in the gracious presence of a gentle spirit.