"In the town of Pontchateau, St. Louis inspired the peasants to build a huge monument to the Passion of Christ on a neighboring hill. For 15 months, hundreds of peasants volunteered their skills and labor to build it. When completed, it stood as a massive structure, a real labor of love, and on the day before it was supposed to be dedicated by the bishop, word got back to Louis that his enemies had convinced the government to destroy it ...
Louis said, "We had hoped to build a Calvary here. Let us build it in our hearts. Blessed be God."
... the saint obediently accepted the destruction of his plans and blessed God."
St. Louis's plan, in itself, was good. But God had allowed for it to be destroyed - despite being a labor of love by hundreds of peasants for 15 months! If I were in his shoes, I would definitely feel hurt and frustrated at God - not just for me, but also for everyone who worked on it. But, then, perhaps the monument had already served its purpose ;.. while it was being built. And it no longer needs to exist after. I imagine the exercise of building it had drawn hundreds of strangers to one place, working together for one goal. They would have been bonded and, likely, kept in touch after it was built (and destroyed). Who knows ... it may have even established several small prayer communities. Who knows ...
Sometimes God's will seems indifferent. Yet when one takes the time to peel its layers, one will find, usually in due time, that it truly is simply wise.
Louis said, "We had hoped to build a Calvary here. Let us build it in our hearts. Blessed be God."
... the saint obediently accepted the destruction of his plans and blessed God."
St. Louis's plan, in itself, was good. But God had allowed for it to be destroyed - despite being a labor of love by hundreds of peasants for 15 months! If I were in his shoes, I would definitely feel hurt and frustrated at God - not just for me, but also for everyone who worked on it. But, then, perhaps the monument had already served its purpose ;.. while it was being built. And it no longer needs to exist after. I imagine the exercise of building it had drawn hundreds of strangers to one place, working together for one goal. They would have been bonded and, likely, kept in touch after it was built (and destroyed). Who knows ... it may have even established several small prayer communities. Who knows ...
Sometimes God's will seems indifferent. Yet when one takes the time to peel its layers, one will find, usually in due time, that it truly is simply wise.
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