And All His Empty Promises

At my therapy group last night, one of our members was talking about her relationship with a married man. You know the type. He claims he can’t stand his wife but then goes on a vacation with her, he says they aren’t intimate but then she ends up pregnant, he says over and over again that he’s going to leave but doesn’t. My fellow group member knows that she is nothing but the other woman and that her only future with him is as an unpaid paramour. She also feels terrible guilt about how her behavior is damaging the marriage of another woman. And yet she talked last night about how much of a hold the illicit relationship had on her and how negatively it was affecting her life.

“I cannot describe to you how totally unfulfilling that relationship is for me. I know he’s never going to leave his wife, I hate what I’m doing to his wife, but every day I want to get a text or an e-mail from him that makes me believe that he cares about me. So if I haven’t heard from him, I get really anxious and I text or e-mail him. And then there’s just this cycle of anxiety that I go through as I wait to hear from him the next time…”

I had never had the idea before to look at my life to see if anything was unfulfilling. I gave my life a quick glance and didn’t like what I saw: unfulfilling, unfulfilling, unfulfilling. I felt sick and pathetic. How could I not have seen how much time I spent in unfulfilling ways before? And looking at those parts of my life, why was I hesitant to change in some areas?

My favorite part of Catholic baptisms is when the priest asks the witnesses, “Do you reject Satan…and all his empty promises?” and we say that we reject him. When I was examining my life recently, that was all I could think of, that my unfulfilling behavior was driven by Satan’s empty promises.

Empty promises. I have trouble thinking of anything more terrible than reaching eternity, only to realize that I had led my life guided by the evil one, the master of lies. What if I could see the horrific, demonic driving force behind all of my bad decisions? Would I still make them? No. But I can’t see the full terror of the evil one. As much as I want to treat Jesus as my king, I chase after the empty promises.

I want to be saved by Jesus Christ. Part of me wishes that I were a Southern Baptist so that I would know that I was saved already, but the other part of me realizes that I would ruthlessly question whether I was truly saved or not. As a Catholic, I am supposed to become contrite for chasing the empty promises, confess my sins and repent. Right now I’m still struggling to attain true contrition, and I ask for Mary’s help with this nearly every day.

Empty promises. Has life really come down to this? Ever since I found my personal relationship with God in 1995, I thought I had been pursuing Christ’s promises. Mary’s promises. The promises of saints and popes. The promises of prominent Christians in my life. The promises of God my Father.

I can’t handle the thought of being a slave to the beautiful weaver of deception. I prayed a rosary yesterday, and as unworthy as I feel, I will pray another one today. The rosary is my lifeline, and I feel like I am a lost soul. Jesus, Mary, I’m reaching out to you. You can’t let the evil one have me. Give me contrition where I have no contrition. Help me to make a full confession. Help me to change. I cry out to you from the core of my being, where there is no peace of Christ, only turmoil.