The Blood of God (from The Everlasting Man, by G.K. Chesterton)

Long years and centuries ago our fathers or the founders of our people drank, as they dreamed, of the blood of God. Long years and centuries have passed since the strength of that giant vintage has been anything but a legend of the age of giants. Centuries ago already is the dark time of the second fermentation, when the wine of Catholicism turned into the vinegar of Calvinism. Long since that bitter drink has been itself diluted; rinsed out and washed away by the waters of oblivion and the wave of the world. Never did we think to taste again even that bitter tang of sincerity and the spirit, still less the richer and the sweeter strength of the purple vineyards in
our dreams of the age of gold. Day by day and year by year we have lowered our hopes and lessened our convictions; we have grown more and more used to seeing those vats and vineyards overwhelmed in the water-floods and the last savour and suggestion of that special element fading like a stain of purple upon a sea of grey. We have grown used to dilution, to dissolution, to a watering down that went on for ever. But 'Thou hast kept the good wine until now.'

Keys of the Kingdom: Mercy

"There is one thing we most of us forget. Christ taught it. The Church teaches it . . . though you wouldn't think so to hear a great many of us today. No one in good faith can ever be lost. No one. Buddhists, Mohammedans, Taoists . . . the blackest cannibals who ever devoured a missionary . . . If they are sincere, according to their own lights, they will be saved. That is the splendid mercy of God. So why shouldn't He enjoy confronting a decent agnostic at the Judgement Seat with a twinkle in his eye: ‘I'm here you see, in spite of all they brought you up to believe. Enter the Kingdom which you honestly denied.’"

Keys of the Kingdom: Atheism

"Funny . . . I still can't believe in God."
"Does that matter now?" What was he saying? Francis did not know. He was crying and, in the stupid humiliation of his weakness, the words came from him, in blind confusion. "He believes in you."
"Don't delude yourself. . .I'm not repentant."
"All human suffering is an act of repentance."
There was a silence. The priest said no more. Weakly, Tulloch reached out his hand and let it fall on Francis' arm.
"Man, I've never loved ye so much as I do now . . . for not trying to bully me to heaven. Ye see--" His lids dropped wearily. "I've such an awful headache."

"The Son of Man must suffer" by Father Philipon

In his divine wisdom... God preferred to bestir us rather to a deep and poignant awareness of our vocation as members of a crucified Christ. Hence, our weakness in doing good is intended to throw into sharper relief the sublime power of Christ, a power that enables us to support a life that is divine by grace in a vessel that is fragile, in a body inclined to sin and evil. The root of inclination to evil persists, and this provides us with opportunity for striving and conquering. Furthermore, in Christ lies the clue to the mystery of suffering. The adequate explanation must be sought in the contemplation of Christ crucified; only in the light of his suffering can we find the real meaning of human suffering. Thus, in the first place, according to God's own plan suffering is to be expiation and reparation. It is the way for sinful man to atone for his faults and those of his brothers. Suffering is also to be purification. It weans us from the fleeting and hollow pleasures of sin. A soul lifted by suffering, like Christ on Golgotha, above the things of earth turns to heaven and away from all that is not God. Also, suffering is to be meritorious and co-redeeming. That is why Saint Paul could say: "What is lacking of the sufferings of Christ I fill up in my flesh for his body, which is the Church." When a soul suffers out of pure and disinterested love without regard to itself, it is more useful to the Church militant and to the whole world than when it is engaged in a most brilliant and successful apostolate. Souls are saved by dying for them. It was not by his words, nor by his miracles, that Jesus saved the world, but by giving his life. To add to this, suffering is also to be sanctifying; through it we become like unto Christ in the highest degree possible on earth. God produces saints by conforming souls more and more to Christ crucified. Lastly, suffering makes us more like unto God, more nearly divine... To allow oneself to be crucified by suffering with Christ is to grow in the likeness to God. Who are the saints that regret having suffered? Suffering passes; having suffered, never.

Father Philipon (died 1972) was a twentieth-century French Dominican priest, theologian, and author.

How the Humble Are Exalted

The greatest certainty of spiritual safety in this life is to be found in thus utter self-abandonment which... consists in being driven to breaking-point and to an utter despair of oneself so as to have no hope but in God alone... Now God has given you two kinds of grace to bring you to this full self-abandonment: (1) strong inducements to tempt you to put full confidence in his great mercy and goodness; (2) surpassing understanding and penetrating awareness of your wretchedness, weakness, perversity, and general failure to achieve goodness. In effect he says to you: Know that in your present state you neither ought, nor can, in any wise help yourself, nor be helped by anything coming from that pit of corruption which is yourself. By self-abandonment, by renunciation of all recourse to self and by fixing all your thoughts upon me, do you then leave all your burdens to me!... Instead of shaking and undermining the soul's blessed joy, these discoveries inspire it with resolute trust... I have known... souls following this way to be astonished when they behold their trust in God increase proportionately with their increasing perception of their poverty, weakness, and misery. The explanation is that the keener this consciousness of our wretchedness and corruption becomes, the greater grows the self-distrust of those souls possessing it and the greater their corresponding trust in God.

--Father Jean-Pierre de Caussade, S.J. (died 1751) a French Jesuit, a writer, and a revered spiritual director.