Holiness takes more than inspiration

My first post at SpiritualDirection.com went up on Tuesday, when I already had my regular post up here. But I know many of you who have not already read it would like to do so. I am going to reblog the first few paragraphs here, then link to the rest.

But first, I’d like to let you know that I’m just waiting to receive the final proof for my book. God willing, I will have it ready for purchase by next Wednesday, the feast of Our Lady of Mt. Carmel. Originally I was going to just have pre-orders begin that day. But both the digital and print versions should be completed, so I have decided to make them available at once. The official launch date will remain August 6, but I am planning many events between now and then. Make sure you check back next Wednesday to enter a giveaway contest and learn about all the special events, bonuses, and contests. Thanks for your prayers!

And now here’s the post from SpiritualDirection.com:

I’ve been pondering lately why I am still working on some of the same spiritual issues I knew I had a problem with years ago. Recent reading and deep thinking have changed my perspective on life. But I realize I’ve been in this place before. I’ve thought about these same issues before, but I haven’t made much progress. I want this time to be different. How should I proceed?

Have you ever experienced something like this:

You attended a retreat and your soul felt rejuvenated. Or a saint’s biography moved you to say, “I want to do that too!” Perhaps a homily gave you a spiritual insight you had never had before. Or a conversation with a more advanced friend urged you forward.

You were inspired. You felt excited about living for God. You were determined to follow Him more closely. For a while, you succeeded. You sailed along on the inspiration. Holiness seemed easy. You resisted temptations without hesitation. You prayed more faithfully and fervently.

Then one day you awoke and the inspiration was gone. Temptations hit you before breakfast, and you began giving in. Soon you were back where you started, before that retreat, book, homily, or conversation.