The Spiritual Life’s Achilles’ Heel

According to Greek myth, Achilles’ mother dipped him while yet an infant in Styx River, holding him only by his heel. Wheresoever the water touched Achilles, he thus became invulnerable, leaving his heel vulnerable.

Achilles, the hero of the Trojan War, renown as the greatest of all Greek warriors, especially for slaying the Trojan prince Hector outside the gates of Troy, was eventually slain by a poisoned arrow that pierced his heel, ankle or torso.

Spiritual warriors, armed with the grace conferred by Christ through His sacraments, can sense that the devil is powerless to separate them from God.
They become superhuman.

Perhaps you’ve felt that way once or twice.
It is an incredible feeling.
It is as if we are riding on the shoulders of God the Father—nothing can touch us.

Yet, in having the demons subject to us, we can become overconfident, if not blind to our weak spots.

One of the key principles to the spiritual life is that God is not Santa Claus.
He is not a sugar daddy.
God is not interested in protecting us from scraping our knees.
God is a Father.
The best of fathers.

The author of Hebrews tells us, “We are to receive every trial as discipline from God.” (Hebrews 12:7)
God is a Father who wills that we become persevering, courageous sons of God.

Therefore, He often allows pain to prepare and purify us of our selfishness and self-protection.
God will often remove consolations for the purpose of drawing us into periods of desolation during which our spiritual roots grow deeper, stronger and we become capable of weathering spiritual aridity and harsh winters wherein He seems distant.

All of this increases faith and trust in Him.
That forged trust empowers us to risk everything for Him, His Kingdom and the salvation of souls.
We learn to believe that He is good and wills this period of desolation to make us more like Him—self-giving, self-sacrificing, fearing nothing.

Yet, when consolation is lacking, we often turn to carnal pleasures—even the smallest—to offset the desolation.
We simply want something that will console us.

As my friend Jim O’ Day says, we are gravely tempted when we are “BLASTD: Bored, lonely, angry, stressed, tired or depressed.”

It is during such moments that God the Father is calling us to dive deeper into the spiritual soil we have been planted; to allow our roots to run deeper in Him.
He wants us to be so rooted that we can never be removed from Him.

And contrary to modern Christian idealism, we can remove ourselves from Him.
St. Paul warns tells us that we will be saved, “provided that you persevere in the faith, firmly grounded, stable, and not shifting from the hope of the gospel that you heard, which has been preached to every creature under heaven, of which I, Paul, am a minister.” Col 1:23

But we often thwart the process of sanctification.

Like a tree that is watered during a drought, the roots tend to grow toward the surface.
If this continues, the roots will eventually become scorched due to being too close to the heat of the sun.

This is the Achilles heel of the spiritual life.

Instead of turning to God and spending time with Him when we are bored, lonely, etc. or are encountering a severe trial, a terrible setback, difficulty, or relational tensions, we turn to the bottle, chocolate, Netflix, Pornhub, methamphetamines, sports, or whatever your fancy is.

Some of these are not evil in themselves, and at times we are called by God to receive pleasure from them.
But timing and context is everything.

The secret to not allowing the Achilles Heel of carnal pleasure to take us down and thwart the process of sanctification is to identify periods, days, times when you will feast on carnal pleasures—appropriately.

The Catholic Church’s liturgical calendar offers us numerous feast days, solemnities and memorials during which we can feast.
As St. Francis of Assisi said, “I would like that on Christmas even the walls could eat meat.”

If we are tempted to cave in to a carnal appetite outside of appropriate times, this is God inviting us to resist the temptation, wait upon Him with trust, and learn the incredible lesson that He will afford us, if we embrace the period of desolation.

Personally, the hour prior to bedtime is my hour of temptation.
I have finished the race of the day.
My mind and body seem to crave consolation.
And often, I have caved in, and doing so, missed the divine intimacy that would have been if I had only chosen God above my flesh.

We embrace periods of desolation by offering the pain of withdrawal to God for the salvation of souls, or for a loved one, a friend, or even an enemy who needs His grace—or simply in gratitude for all the good God has done for us.

We may think that surrendering consistently to carnal appetites does not have significant consequences on our spiritual life and soul itself, yet little actions done repeatedly over time can either make a person a saint or reduce him to a demon intent on dwelling in Hell.

The next time we are tempted to sedate ourselves and avoid desolation, let us realize that we are avoiding and neglecting a tremendous opportunity to be transformed by grace and become the saint that God has created and destined us to be.

The one who does not fear desolation will be rewarded with consolations in this life and the Life to come.