Deep Dive: My God and My All

My God and My All, by Elizabeth Goudge

It came as a surprise to me that, after hearing Elizabeth Goudge's books recommended on lists time and time again, it would be her nonfiction work about Saint Francis' life that would be the first of her novel-length works I read. I actually expected this book to be a novelization of his life, but found it to be full of biographical and spiritual insights that even G. K. Chesterton would have been proud of. In fact, looking back at my review of Chesterton's biography on the same saint, I can say with certainty that I enjoyed this book much more. I won't go through this work chapter by chapter, but I'd still like to take the time to record the elements of this work that were most beautiful, or notable for other reasons.

Introduction

The opening page of this work was just beautiful. It's too long to quote in full here, but it was a smashing entry into the beauty of Goudge's writing. I've read beautiful prose before, but something about her manner of articulating truths was really lovely, and I could do well to read more of her works and soak up the beauty of her writing craft.

"It is never the beginning of the story to say a child is born, nor is it the end to say a man has died, for long preparation leads up to every birth, and a death leaves behind it a power for good or evil that works on in the world for longer than the span of life from which it grew." p. 1

"Perhaps"

Goudge did her research, and pulls heavily from original biographical texts throughout this book. However, there are some parts of Francis' life that we just don't know a lot about. This leads her to do a good deal of surmising in those mysterious portions, but the way in which she does it works. For these parts, she created a scene of what might have happened or been said, and the word "perhaps" becomes magical. It allows her to create a scene that the reader can imagine, while the "perhaps" admits that we don't know for sure. She draws conclusions about why some things happened or did not, and did not have great evidence to base them on, but this practice didn't bother me like it has so often in other biographical works. Perhaps it is the excellence of her storytelling that broke down my typical judgment.

Pacing

This book was hard to get into, but I realized later that was only because I was trying to read it with the TV on. This is the sort of book that takes its time and demands your full attention, but it is fully worth it. It makes me think in that way of Hannah Coulter, although I liked this book more than that one. I recommend tackling this book if you have decently long chunks of time to give to it - I think you miss something if you're reading snatches of it here and there. I finished the last half of this book in two days because I was sick with the flu and had nothing but time and no inclinations to do much other than rest in bed or sit in a chair and read.

The Discipline of Prayer

I don't think I've appreciated how much of a discipline prayer is until I read this book. I put down The Interior Castle last month because I was feeling bad about not experiencing contemplative prayer and being a saint already. However, this book has shown me, by the lives of St. Francis and his early followers, that prayer is hard work. You have to put in the time to make it happen, you have to fast, you have to be dedicated to it. As she says of one of St. Francis' followers, 

"He was a mystic...a man of heroic prayer who in his old age said he knew now that martyrdom was an easy matter and that the inner life of prayer was a harder proof of man's constancy." - p. 109.

I think this perspective could help me finish The Interior Castle if I were to pick it up again. It's not going to happen any time soon, but it helps to think that men and women who have vowed to live radically for Christ maybe have a greater chance of experiencing incredible prayer experiences because their way of life sets them up for it. I'm not condoning any lukewarm tendencies in the laity (myself), because we are all called to holiness. I am saying that perhaps I could try a little harder to be present to Jesus when I go to adoration. But, all graces and consolations of prayer come from God alone, so may His will be done.

Insights

Elizabeth Goudge did such a great job of presenting the Church and the Franciscan order that I figured, "She's got to be Catholic." I looked her up online and found out she is not, indeed, Catholic. She was Anglican. In any case, I found some of her insights to be spot on. I stalled out for a little while in the first third of the book because I was feeling uncomfortable with how radically St. Francis lived a life of poverty, feeling called out in owning many possessions myself. However, I was able to move past the discomfort in time and enjoy many beautiful thoughts that she shares.

"Christ could have been the greatest scholar the world has ever known, but he said goodbye to the scribes in the temple at Jerusalem and went home to Nazareth with his parents and was subject unto them." p. 229

This line made me pause a bit. I felt like some of St. Francis' brothers who stepped away from the attitude of radical poverty because they wanted to pursue learning and knowledge, which can lead to higher estimation in the opinions of others - and power. I think, in a way, my love of reading can be my own personal strain of this vanity. I want to be able to read whatever I want of the classics, just to know that I've read it. It feels good to report I've read many books in a month, or checked books off my to-read least, or made it through another free audiobook before my Audible deal expires again. It is good and beautiful to use the gifts God has given us, to gain knowledge, but there is a great beauty in giving up something beautiful - like ongoing learning - for God, if He asks it of us.

"It would seem that it is so often the wisdom of God to place his most devoted servants exactly where they least want to be. Their gifts and their personal preferences run counter to each other, and the discipline of being used in a way that is not of their choice preserves their humility." - p. 251

This part made me think of the "Called and Gifted" workshop my husband and I attended a few years ago, as an engaged couple. I remember thinking how cool it would be to have the gift of healing, but I also instinctively knew at the same time that it would not be good for my soul if God manifested works of healing through me. I am drawn to desire certain gifts of the Holy Spirit (hospitality, writing, healing), but how much of their appeal comes from a desire to serve God's people, and how much stems from a desire to build myself up? The saints are a beautiful example of how to serve God, wherever and however He calls us.

Passing It Along

I want to keep this book. It would be nice to know it is sitting there on my shelf, ready for me to reach for it and reread it whenever I want in the next who-knows-how-many years. However, I'd told my sister (discerning life with a Franciscan Third Order of women) that I wanted to gift this book to her convent when I was done with it, and after I'd loaned it to my sister-in-law who I think had expressed interest in reading it at some point.

I need to stick to my resolve. The book will go to my sister in due time because it needs to be in a place that it can be read and, I hope, appreciated. It didn't seem very Franciscan to send the book and then order another one for myself to replace it, so I shall offer it up as a small sacrifice. If I see it on sale at a used bookstore, I'll probably pick it up, but I won't seek it out for myself right now. It is a great book and I'm grateful to have read it.