I used to think the hardest part of running a high-pressure steam plant was the complexity. But over time, I’ve learned that when the pressure rises—literally and spiritually—the answer is almost always a return to the fundamentals. In the control room and in the interior life, it’s the basics that hold everything together.
During a recent Holy Hour, the Lord gave me three words: Trust. Love. Obedience. I had sensed He was asking for more, but I was wrong about what “more” meant. It wasn’t more doing—it was deeper surrender.
St. Teresa of Avila likens God and our journey with Him to a castle. I imagine this castle having a great spiral staircase, and every step taken constitutes a movement away from ourselves and toward God. Each step requires the same fundamental principles—trust, love, obedience—but at a greater cost.
When we feel our trust in God has stretched to the very edge, He asks for our love. Because our love rests on expanded trust, we find it easier to offer. How can we love without trust? Yet soon that love feels too small, incapable of sustaining the new graces God is offering us, and so it, too, must be stretched.
When we can endure no more, when our heart burns as the disciples’ hearts on the road to Emmaus, our obedience is called upon. Like Peter, we must step out of the safety that was the previous limit of our obedience. Peter leaves everything to follow Jesus, but stepping out onto the Sea of Galilee surely demanded a faith and obedience far greater than what was required to cast aside his nets and boat.
These principles are the foundation of the spiritual life. Like the laws that govern the transformation of water into steam, they do not change. But as we apply them, we discover that they are faceted where we once believed them smooth. In living them out, we find their roots grow deeper. Each step on the spiral staircase toward our heart’s desire demands more. And yet, it is more of the same: trust, love, obedience.
In a world obsessed with productivity and beholden to metrics, we rarely lack for vineyard labor. Whether through charitable works, teaching religious education, street evangelization, or operating a new apostolate, there is kingdom work for all. These are our Martha moments, our time of obedience to God through our vocation or the tasks He commissions us for.
Authentic discipleship also requires silence and prayer. Christ often retreats in quiet solitude. Yet we are also called to be Christ’s hands and feet in the world, and as St. James says, faith without works is dead.
But do we linger too long on the step, hesitating because working in obedience is easier than allowing our hearts to break or our trust to stretch still further? Do we allow God to stretch our obedience, only to stretch it further ourselves to avoid what He asks next: more trust and more love? Do we become so comfortable and assured in our obedience that when God asks for trust, our response is, “I’m a bit busy—can it wait?” We hear Christ ask for more and spring into action, but what He desires isn’t another fundraiser or flyer. It’s us.
Even the contemplatives among us can fall into the trap of confusing obedience with trust, love, and interior progress. Are we reciting the Divine Office, or present to it? Is our quiet mental prayer not as quiet as we think? Do we pray at God? Has our Adoration become mechanical and rigid? Are we appearing as Mary with the soul of Martha? We need Martha to get the job done. But when it’s time to choose the better part, are we still secretly striving, worrying, and doing?
Can obedience become a shield to hide our hearts from God? Do we cloak our hearts in piety because trust and love are too dangerous to draw near to? Are we neglecting the fundamentals?
Progressing in the spiritual life is work, and there are seasons when it feels as though all we are doing—and all we will ever do—is labor. Yet even with our hand to the plow, God desires our presence more than our productivity. We must build the kingdom, yes, but with hands inspired by love and trust.
Drawing nearer to God is not about doing more, but surrendering more. The deeper we go, the more we must abandon—not the world, but ourselves. Traversing the spiral staircase of the interior life is a continual return to the fundamentals, each time with deeper dependence on God and less reliance on ourselves or the consolations that once accompanied earlier steps.
Mother Teresa advised us to do small things with great love. St. Thérèse is famous for her Little Way. It can be difficult to understand the simplicity of the love and faith these saints had—especially when we are occupied with stepping out of the boat. But as we ascend the staircase, we begin to catch glimpses of the profound truth at the center of their lives: hearts made like unto Christ’s, whose own Heart is the perfect manifestation of trust, love, and obedience.
Photo by Josh Applegate on Unsplash
