In the Tenth Rule, Saint Ignatius taught us the importance of “storing up” consolation to strengthen ourselves against future desolation. In the Eleventh Rule, he gives us more guidance on how to respond in consolation—as well as added encouragement in desolation.
The Eleventh Rule: Let him who is consoled see to humbling himself and lowering himself as much as he can, thinking how little he is able for in the time of desolation without such grace or consolation.
On the contrary, let him who is in desolation think that he can do much with the grace sufficient to resist all his enemies, taking strength in his Creator and Lord.
If there was a perfect Bible verse to summarize this rule, it would be Proverbs 16:18: “Pride goes before disaster, and a haughty spirit before a fall.”
St. Ignatius wants us to remember that “pride goeth before a fall,” even in the green pastures of consolation. If we do not seek humility when things are going well, we risk stumbling into unnecessary desolation.
We may not think that we are being prideful in consolation, especially when we feel thankful for God’s graces and blessings. Yet pride is a sneaky temptation that can worm its way in nevertheless.
Once, I was going through a time of great difficulty. I had to detach from some very good things in my life and was facing the possibility of having to surrender even more. On top of this, I was dealing with increased physical suffering and some serious family needs.
It felt like desolation after desolation on both the natural and spiritual level.
Despite some truly challenging days, the Lord gave me the grace to understand that He was allowing these trials for my greater freedom and purification from the world. As I fought to pray through the desolation I discovered a deep, almost hidden, undercurrent of peace in my soul. Even on the worst days, I was able to cling to the truth that God was truly doing something in my soul and for my family’s sanctity, and that He was allowing this trial because of His unrelenting love for us—not in spite of it.
Eventually I started coming out of the fog. The challenges became slightly more manageable, and the desolation started to lift. I felt more peaceful overall, not just the depths of my soul, and I felt more joyful in prayer. Looking back at the season I had just gone through, I marveled in amazement at how I had persevered. I couldn’t help but praise God for His grace.
Yet within that amazement was also a tiny seed of temptation.
I soon found myself thinking, “Those trials would have affected so me much more in the past, but look how well I persevered!” I also thought with great satisfaction, “With all this growth, I’ve probably reached a new level of spiritual maturity!” The problem wasn’t that I was noticing potential spiritual growth, but rather, that I was letting this recognition puff up my own pride in how well I was doing and how much I was improving, rather than magnifying what God was doing in me and through me. This tiny seed of poisonous pride in me distorted the gift of God’s consolation into an almost-subconscious pleasure at my “good performance” and a desire for a pat on the back. Thankfully, God gave me the grace to become aware of these thoughts and I was jolted right back to the reality of my human weakness.
As soon as I realized how my thoughts had taken a turn into pride-filled error, I asked the Lord for help rephrasing them to humble myself and put the focus back on Him. Instead of reveling in how well I had done, I tried the following:
“I’ve been so weak in this area for so long, but look how You’ve strengthened me and helped me to grow, Lord! Glory to You!” And, “Thank You for giving me all this grace to persevere. It’s only by Your mercy that I can keep going or mature at all!”
If pride in consolation goes before a fall, then despair in the depths of desolation digs a deeper pit. The moment our consolation is twisted into a sense of self-congratulation, we fall back into self-reliance—resulting in prolonged desolation. In other words, any pride that leads to self-reliance in consolation will perpetuate the same lie of self-reliance in desolation, leading to hopelessness when we learn that we cannot escape by our own strength.
This is why St. Ignatius invites us to both humility and confidence in Rule Eleven, reminding us of God’s merciful grace in consolation and sufficient strength in desolation.
Humility in consolation lets us acknowledge our astonishing human weakness, accepting all consolation as proof of God’s great love and strength. This proof gives us confidence in that same divine love and strength when we’re deep in desolation, which propels us back toward spiritual consolation. In short, the fruit of humility in consolation is trusting confidence in desolation, and the fruit of trusting confidence in desolation is humility in consolation.
How can we practically seek humility in times of consolation? In my experience, greater awareness makes all the difference. We can start by simply asking the Lord for the grace of greater awareness in our thoughts and actions. It can also be fruitful to petition our Blessed Mother under the title of Our Lady of Sorrows for the grace of greater discernment to reveal any areas of hidden pride, hopelessness, or doubt.
As we become more aware of our thoughts in consolation, we can begin to catch underlying prideful motivations. Then we can take swift action to revise our thoughts in a way that helps us acknowledge our own weakness while giving glory fully to God. Likewise, when we study our thoughts and motivations in desolation, we can begin to tease out areas of doubt and despair. In response, we can practice confidence in the Lord by making intentional acts of faith, trust, and hope.
This Rule from St. Ignatius reminds us that there is always an action we can take in the spiritual life to cooperate with God’s sufficient grace—and above all, there is always a reason to hope, especially in spiritual desolation.
Seeking humility in ourselves and confidence in God ultimately delivers the grace we need to truly grow in spiritual maturity. Through this maturity, we can learn to more staunchly resist the devil’s cunning tactics—the first of which we will study in Rule Twelve.
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