St. Louis de Monfort grew up in France with a dad known for having the most “fiery temper in all of Brittany… He was a volcano frequently erupting.” St Louis confessed that his temper was as bad as his father’s.  He’s most often remembered as a man with an almost incomparable passion & zeal.  

Mainly because of this, and my questionable ability to reign in my own emotions, I have a deep love for this Saint.

I re-read a story this morning about his priestly life that I can’t seem to let go of – 

“In the town of Pontchateau, St. Louis inspired the peasants to build a huge monument to the Passion of Christ on a neighboring hill.  For 15 months, hundreds of peasants volunteered their skills and labor to build it.  When completed, it stood as a massive structure, a real labor of love, and on the day before it was supposed to be dedicated by the bishop, word got back to Louis that his enemies had convinced the government to destroy it.  (The had lied to the authorities, saying that the structure was actually meant to be a fortress against the government.). 

When Louis received this disappointing news, he told thousands of people who had gathered for the blessing ceremony, ‘We had hoped to build a Cavalry here.  Let us build it in our hearts.  Blessed be God.’”  

I’ve spent the last 15 months working on opening a small business in Haiti.  By the time you are reading this, it will be open, and it will be almost 4 years to the day after the initial idea.  

I’m trying to imagine if on Monday, it was torn down. 

Tens of thousands of donor dollars, 

Hundreds of hours of work & training & learning, 

Years of dreaming of a worthy outcome. 

Gone.  Because of a lie?  Because of evil?

Passion couldn’t explain the fire that would erupt in my heart.  

My heart races imagining it – the faith that it would take to respond

“We had hoped to build [this] here.  

Let us build it in our hearts.  

Blessed be God.”

I can’t imagine.  

And so, I am forced to find a place in my soul to imagine.  A place that will allow me to release all attachment to my will – and gain a full appreciation of God’s will.  

That’s what St. Louis de Monfort had in that moment.  He didn’t just have obedience, or faith; he had a detachment from his worldly desire that exceeded his passion or zeal for any goals of his own.  

He spent 15 months and recruited hundreds of laborers to build a cavalry for the distinct and sole purpose of honoring the Passion of Christ – and 24 hours after it was completed, it was destroyed.  He responded – Blessed be God.  A response that so, so many years later I am holding close. 

In Haiti, more so I believe than in many other places, things like this are actively happening every day. Haiti is currently in the middle of a civil crisis and a building being destroyed is hardly far-fetched.

I am a person who perhaps feels more passion than most, and to release that in the midst of every high and low into the hands of God is something that I still don’t know that I am capable of.  

but

when St. Louis de Monfort accepted the destruction of his plan, he opened a floodgate.  He went on to essentially pioneer the path To Jesus Through Mary, be named an apostolic missionary by the Pope, and live a life that directly inspired Karol Wojtyla, the future Pope Saint John Paul II.

I’m in the middle of one thing in my life so far that has taken inordinate effort and love, so the way this story wrenches my soul is unique – but, I don’t think we need to go so far.  

The last year has been full of disappointments for pretty much everyone who will read this.  

We’ve lost people, seen darkness win in places around the world.  We’ve forfeited time with people, a lot of human connection, and plans.  We collectively lost certainty about the future and universally begun to live almost day by day, often at the discretion of others.  

We hoped, for a lot.

Often, our hope was eventually replaced with disappointment.

I live in a country that is in the middle of an uprising. People are scared, stuck, and helpless.  Things are heavy -

Obviously, it takes a lot of faith, right?  

Obviously, we let go of our material affections.  

Obviously. Obviously?

But then I count my worldly attachments, and imagine their destruction,

and I literally watch my heart rate go up on my watch. I lose the semblance of peace that I pridefully imagined I would tighten my grip on.  

A lot of us are attached to something.  a person. a goal. a job. money. security. 

Simply caring less isn’t the answer. Hardening our hearts to avoid defeat isn’t the answer. 

Care more.  

Open the floodgate.  

Let it out. 

But then, let go of your expectations and cling – CLING – to God’s will.  

God’s will won’t always come with that person. that goal. that job.  It doesn’t come with security right now.  It doesn’t come with a whole lot of money most of the time.  

It does come with the salvation of souls, though.  It comes with peace.  It comes with eternity.  

That thing that sets your soul on fire – the passion is worth it.  

but

when God redirects us, we have to cling to His will.  

We have to be reminded that a heart on fire for God is worth more than a heart on fire for our own will.  God’s will is bigger than a cavalry that took 15 months of work.  It’s bigger than any one thing. 

God’s will makes every moment of our lives fruitful, even when we can’t let go of our own hope.

“So, although his physical monument was destroyed, Louis’s teaching eventually became a huge edifice in the Church that exercised great influence on many Popes and on Catholic spirituality.  Indeed, de Montfort’s passionate labors paid off in the end, even if he didn’t see the fruits himself.”