Relating to My Soul

"When you are sad, tired, lonely, and full of suffering, take refuge in the sanctuary of your soul and there you will find your Brother, your Friend, Jesus, who will console you, support you and strengthen you." - From Meditations of a Hermit by Charles de Foucauld

This idea of "the sanctuary of [my] soul" offers me a new way of looking at prayer and relating to myself in prayer.  In fact, I had a vision of this sanctuary while I was praying earlier.  The drawing (above) is a quick, simple sketch of that vision and what follows is a short description:

Three chairs - one for Jesus, one for me, and one for my soul.  I see my soul as a child at this stage - almost like my 8-year old son, but an 8-year old version of me.  The three of us sit in comfortable chairs facing one another in a four-walled gazebo made of glass.  There is a large cross etched onto each wall of the glass so that it's height is almost the height of the wall and it's width is almost the width of the wall.  The gazebo sits on an elevated surface surrounded by nature - rolling green hills, a stream, trees of various sorts, and the sun in the morning sky, warm but not hot, shining its light through the crosses down upon us.  We sit and talk, the three of us, mostly Jesus and I, and we each relate to my soul in different ways.  Jesus is always loving, instructing, even feeding my soul.  I am irresponsible most of the time in how I relate to my soul, occasionally making time to rest and listen to my soul and read to it.  I am abusive at the worst of times, being harsh in my words, exposing my soul to horrible images, and mostly neglecting my soul and his needs. 

Suddenly, I am horrified by this reality - that I treat my soul in such a way and I am convicted of my sin.  I turn and ask Jesus to heal my soul because of the damage I have done.  As Jesus lays his hands upon my soul, and brings healing, I then ask my soul for forgiveness.  I ask Jesus to forgive me and I ask my soul to forgive me.  Jesus does, of course, responding to me immediately.  But my soul takes time to forgive me, not understanding what I have done, and experiencing the pain of my sin against him.  Eventually, as Jesus' healing permeates my soul, he offers me forgiveness.  Then there is joy, and a renewed innocence, and a heightened sense of responsibility that it is not only Jesus who is to care for my soul, but also me. 

This way of looking at prayer, and my life of holiness is new for me, but profound.  If I were able to regularly see my soul, like I see my 8-year old son every day, I might be more careful about what I watch, and what I read.  I might take more time to rest, and listen to my soul, as I do my son when he comes home from school.  I might find the inner motivation to invest in my soul, like I try to invest in my son's life through prayer and discipleship.  I might actually have fun pursuing a life of holiness.  Imagine that.