“One Cannot Become Holy All at Once…”: Brother Lawrence’s Guide for a Recovering Perfectionist

And while there is nothing wrong with wanting to avoid sin and seek spiritual perfection, if not motivated more by the love of God than by personal pride, we can vitally miss the point. “The Practice of the Presence of God,” by Brother Lawrence—a 17th-century Discalced Carmelite who offered spiritual direction to others through his counsel and writings—emphasizes the importance of serving God in trust and love rather than cowering before him in fear and inadequacy.

Before his profound spiritual epiphany and renewal, Brother Lawrence suffered from perfectionism and its common companion, scrupulosity. Examining his life’s actions with intense scrutiny, Brother Lawrence felt overcome by the magnitude of his sins and transgressions, which initially filled him with dread of damnation. He could only surmount this temptation to despair when he stopped focusing on his transgressions and faults and refocused his energies on loving God.

With an immense purity and engulfing devotion that demonstrated the primacy of serving God for His Own Sake rather than for the promise of any reward—whether earthly or eternal—Brother Lawrence reasoned: “…Whether I am lost or saved, I want simply to go on living for God; I shall have this good at least, that I shall have done all that I could to love Him until death” (page 24). If, as Saint Augustine wrote, “To fall in love with God is the greatest romance,” shouldn’t our hearts be set with such a burning desire—a desire that forsakes all comforts or concerns for self in an all-consuming quest to love completely and without reserve—regardless of what we derive from it?

This type of intense devotion cannot flower without trust, and this is something with which I have personally struggled. For me, following God has always consisted mainly as an “assent of the will,” rather than an outpouring of hopeful emotion or desire. So, while it’s easy for me to recognize God’s goodness and compassion on an intellectual level, it has always been a challenge for me to accept it as a concrete and unwavering emotional conviction.

Brother Lawrence says these moments are precisely when we should draw even closer to God by recognizing our complete and utter dependence upon His Grace to contend with whatever difficulty, suffering, or temptation we are facing: “When I see that I am at fault I admit it and say ‘That is just like me; I can do nothing right by myself’; when I do not fail, I acknowledge that it is God’s doing and give thanks to Him” (29). In this way, we recognize our littleness before God by admitting our faults, yet not obsessing or being overcome by them, and we can approach God as we ought: in humility, trust, and love.

When I consider how many moments I have each day to admit my humility or accept inconveniences or sufferings joyfully, I realize that a mother’s life is ripe with opportunities for practicing the presence of God. If each time we feel daunted, doubtful, or distressed, we direct our cries to God instead of merely muttering complaints or exhaling exasperated sighs, how much closer to God might we draw? Even more promising, when we do “fail” and succumb to complaints or sighs or worse, what an amazing comfort to view these moments as opportunities to rely entirely on God, without Whom we would not be able to succeed at anything—even the most mundane or simple of tasks.

This year, as I imperfectly shuffle along with the responsibilities of my vocation, I hope that, if nothing else, I continually increase the number of times I lift my eyes toward Heaven, up from the messy and challenging realities of life, and, like a child, say: “Lord, I cannot do that unless You enable me” (25). And I hope these humble little cries will shower down a much-needed deluge of grace and love—not because of my perfection but His Own.

Megan Keyser

Originally hailing from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, Megan is a 2006 Hillsdale College graduate with a degree in Classical Studies. These days, Megan thrives on the challenges and joys of her role as a Catholic, stay-at-home mother, who heads a chapter of the Well-Read Mom, dabbles in social commentary and other writing pursuits, and advocates for the pro-life cause. Despite the inevitable chaos of large family life, Megan is thankful for her lively brood and relishes juggling household responsibilities, babies in diapers, and, of course, a good book. She resides in Noblesville, Indiana, with her husband, Marc, an engineer in the energy industry, and their ten children: five sons and five daughters, ages 15 years to 6 months old.