Love began to fill my soul
Brother David’s vocation story:
It was as a student at Cistercian that I truly began to see a possible vocation. I saw the simplicity, my role models, and the great joy and ease that I thought I could obtain if I joined the monastery. I was moved, and warm waves would rush into me the more I thought about this life. Though I would fall, many times, as I took more steps into my faith. It was in this weakness that I sought respite, and I found another reason
to want to be a Cistercian, it was the medicine that would heal my illness, that would shatter the chains, but this inclination was not really one of holiness, but rather of escape, and my fragile self was taken by stormy desire. Yet even here God worked with me. He helped me confess my first mortal sin, and I continued to grow in an affection for Cistercian, a sentiment that will never leave me.
I knew my faith, but I did not love it, and it would take college to transform my dormant heart. Those tender years at UD have been the most formative time of my life. Academically, socially, and spiritually, my heart blossomed. And it was here that my love of my Catholic faith took on, at long last, a truly personal flavor. It was my own, and it became my own when I left home for Madonna Hall. And it was here too that my vocation became fully alive, standing on its own feet. It was genuine, sought after, and fought for, yet it was now that it was challenged, questioned, and diminished. In my freshman year, I dated a girl for a couple months, but I quickly broke up with her. I did not love her in the way I loved the Cistercians. I felt rejuvenated in my vocation to Cistercian, believing that my long held suspicions had been confirmed in my first foray into the dating world. My heart would not stand for it, and so I continued to grow and fight for my faith and my vocation. I began to take on pious practices, like daily mental prayer, frequent confession, and increasing my weekly mass attendance. And even though I continued to fall for girls, I found myself drawing away from them, as I thought again and again about the Cistercians. My mind felt comfortable in that place, and I felt ready.
It was with this confidence that I entered my senior year, and the reality of vocation began to set in, and I panicked when I saw the deep. During the fall semester I began to see more and more clearly the sacrifice that would accompany a life at Cistercian, and so I paused and I turned away. I threw out my vocation, for love welled up inside. I begged God; I told him that I could not be a priest, and that I would like to be married. For so long I had wanted the simplicity of Cistercian, and it was here that I realized that simplicity too could be found with another.
Like all foolproof plans, this one failed. I was left empty handed, now possessing neither vocation. And so I ran back; I ran back to Cistercian. I asked for the application to apply, but it was not the same, it is not the same vocation that I had a year ago. My assurance waned, clarity evaporated, comfort abandoned. Less and less and less. I felt alone and tired, and prayer hurt, my heart hurt, and I was confused. Where had God gone? My application collected dust, and I stared at the deep, but did it stare back?
What do I want? Love. I want to be loved. I crave it, and I feel its pull with every conversation, and I feel drawn by others. And it was with this fact that I realized that I was not sure if I loved God. I knew much about him, about his Church, about his servants, the Cistercians. And I loved the knowledge, but I did not love him. I knew the love, but it was not yet my love. I realized this, but my will knew this weakness and it demanded an answer to the question: do I believe that God can fill this empty heart? I do, I do believe in my faith, I believe that God has guided me here, that my fear and trepidation in the face of this struggle is not in vain, but a natural reaction to his call. I intend to find the rest that my heart yearns for, and so I am applying. It was when I decided to do this, to earnestly apply, to take up the duty that I thought God might be calling me to, that love began to fill my soul. Duty then love, and the duty to love, and the duty of love, these are the hopes for my time at Cistercian.
I am still fearful, but it is a chaste fear, and it allows courage in the face of the struggle. I thank God for the struggle of my senior year, for in the tearing down, I feel God building me back up. As soon as I saw that love was what I sought, then I saw the comfort and ease of Cistercian as insufficient motives. My vocation has become less gaudy and purer. My love and my vocation are but in their infancy. I know that it is not my vocation to be caught in the limbo of unrest.
So, here I am. I find myself commanding my heart to run towards the precipice, to discard the weights of myself, to abandon my pride, to surrender my will, and I question all of these demands, and yet I feel my feet move towards the edge. I feel the call of love, and I would give up everything for it. And if I leap towards him, what will God do but catch me. I know, deep down, that what I am offering to sacrifice is ultimately very little, but the sacrifice is still difficult to endure, but that God will give me enough to give it up. I want to be great, I want to sacrifice everything for God, I want to be a priest. I wonder if I will ever in this life feel the love that I know my heart needs, but I also think to myself: must my heart feel it here in this life? I tentatively answer no, and even this gives me hope, for what could be more lovely than offering up everything and expecting nothing in return. What could be more lovely than being a Cistercian.
