God Alone Is Enough: A Spirited Journey with St. Teresa of Avila by Claudia Mair Burney

Author:Claudia Mair Burney
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Paraclete Press
Published: 2012-03-03T16:00:00+00:00

When I was fifteen years old I was “born again.” I’ve mentioned that I wanted to be just like the old church mothers. After my conversion, their great expectation was for me to be filled with the Holy Ghost—we didn’t say Holy Spirit back then.

I didn’t know exactly what being filled with the Holy Ghost was, but if God was going around filling people with anything, I wanted him to fill me, too. I’d have done whatever it took to position myself to receive such a gift. The church mothers said I had to tarry, or wait for this gift. (Sounds a lot like the way we have to wait for the gift of contemplative prayer to me.)

There were many ways to tarry, from what I could tell. Most of them involved worship, praise, and humbly petitioning God for the gift. And, of course, waiting. If I didn’t see immediate results I was to continue worshiping, praising, and asking from a sincere heart. And waiting. Fortunately most of that could be done right there at church.

Maybe it’s because I was fifteen and naïve about most things in life, but I had no doubt whatsoever that God would fill me if I asked him to. I knew it was possible that he wouldn’t. Even in the few days since I’d been born again I’d hung around long enough to catch a few war stories of people who did not, despite their most arduous efforts at having faith, receive this gift. They tarried every week! But it didn’t matter to me if I had to wait a very long time for the Holy Ghost. I was willing.

On a crisp April night, a few days after my born-again experience, I went to church to tarry. The presence of the Lord was almost palpable. Turns out I didn’t have to wait very long. Right after the sermon the evangelist had a prayer line, and he laid hands on everyone who came forward. I didn’t know what anyone else prayed for as they filed, one by one, before him. I just knew they looked like they were having what Teresa would have called a “glorious foolish” time. My hope became singular. I only wanted one thing from God, and this gift was so close I could almost taste it.

By the time I got to the front of the line my heart was so wide open I don’t think the preacher had to touch me. But he did, and when he placed his hand on my head it felt as though warmth opened up my skull and something that felt like pure love poured inside of me. From the top of my head, all the way down to my feet, and back up again. My entire being was swept into worship, and for the next few hours—we were Pentecostals—my soul was a slave to praise.

Teresa described it like this: “A person utters innumerable praises to God without thinking, unless the Lord does the thinking. The intellect is worthless here.

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