Lilian Staveley

Summary

Lilian Staveley The Prodigal Returns

I may give Him all that I am or have, and He will not communicate Himself to me. Then I remember all the years of my striving, I remember the stress, the sweat of all that climb to His footstool—the sweat that at times was like drops of blood wrung out of the soul, out of the heart, out of the mind; and yet all forgotten in the instant of the rapture of Finding. Did He then beckon and draw and delight the soul only to madden with the anguish of more hiding and more striving: was He to be found only that He might again be lost? My soul sickened with fear, and I said, Love is a calamity
Source: Gutenberg

Lilian Staveley The Prodigal Returns

The man who has never suffered, and never loved, is more to be pitied than the paralytic: his chance of Life is remote.
How can we reasonably expect that the road back to our long-since forsaken God is to be smooth, pleasant, velvet-covered. What divides us from God? Is it happiness, beauty, and light? No—self-indulgence, rocks of evil, ugly greeds, places of sin and selfishness. Can we climb back through all this, most of it in darkness, without tears, without pain, without every kind of anguish?
Source: Gutenberg

Lilian Staveley The Prodigal Returns

Life in this world is a life for spiritual weaklings. Our eternal Self is an Intelligence, a Desire, and a Will, and the life we live with it is no idle, torpid, confined living such as we have here, but is a living in Liberty, without limit, restriction, fatigue, or satiety; in it word thoughts and thinking are superseded; by comparison to it even the highest thought-achievements of men, their noblest aspirations, appear like the sand-castles of children. Ravished at such further revelations of the Genius of God, the soul at last knows satisfaction.
Source: Gutenberg

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