Based on a talk by Rev. Fr. Pachomius Ma. San Juan, OSB

“May He strengthen you in His glorious might with ample power to meet whatever comes with fortitude, patience and joy…”
— Colossians 1:11–12

There is a power we desperately need today. Not merely the strength to survive, but to endure with patience, joy, and courage. That power does not come from within us. It comes from Christ, our supreme power source. Only when we are plugged into His presence can we live with the dynamism that true Christian meditation invites.

Contrary to what some may think, meditation is not passive. It is not non-action or escape. Christian meditation is not about drifting into a dreamy silence but waking into a deeper reality.

It’s about tuning in to the same frequency as Christ. It is empathy with God. Union.
Resonance. This is not a passive alignment but an active, persistent opening of ourselves – our minds, our hearts, and our wills – to the One in whom all power and life dwell.

The work of union

Union with Christ doesn’t happen by accident. It requires intention, discipline, and humility. In the tradition taught by John Main and others, the mantra, a sacred word or phrase repeated in silence, is our part of the effort. We don’t conjure divine union; we simply return, again and again, to our practice, to the mantra, offering our attention and trust.

This is how we meet God: not with our strengths, but with our simple willingness to stay. And yet, this path is anything but easy.

Beyond the mirror

What keeps us from this union? Most often, it is the mirror, our own self-conscious ego. The mirror reflects only “me”: my plans, my worries, my failures, my pride. As long as this mirror stands between us and God, we see everything backward. Meditation is the work of smashing the mirror. It is the long, slow breaking of illusions, especially the illusion that we are the center of everything.

To smash the mirror is to step out of delusion and face reality: the reality of God, and the truth of ourselves.

A frightening freedom

But this truth is not always easy to bear. St. Paul himself confessed the inner contradiction of the spiritual life: “For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do.” When we enter the silence, we encounter not only God but the parts of ourselves we’ve covered up or dramatized to appear acceptable. The contemplative path asks us to be exposed, unmasked. This is a kind of mystical dying, a painful surrender of the layers that have protected our egos for so long.

And yet, this is also our liberation.

With the mirror gone, the Spirit finds soft, open ground. The mantra, like a gentle but persistent hammer, drills through the surface self and allows divine grace to enter. This is how the fruits of the Spirit grow in us: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, and more. These are not self-produced. They are the result of deep transformation.

Staying on the way

But transformation takes time. Growth is often slow and hidden. The most essential gift of the Spirit in this season may be patience: the patience to say the mantra, the patience to return to the practice, the patience to simply stay on the way. Because that’s the only thing that matters, being on the way. Not being perfect, or enlightened, or successful. Just walking, just journeying.

When we are on the way, we begin to hear the call of God more clearly. And we begin to see the shape of our lives, not random or chaotic, but held gently in the hands of Christ, who walks beside us in silence, stillness, and simplicity.

Conformed to Christ

To meditate is to allow our lives to be conformed to Christ. This doesn’t mean we become passive copies of someone else’s spirituality. It means we become alive, alert, attuned to the presence of God in all things. We become like fresh wineskins, capable of holding new wine. Our hearts expand. Our fears lose their grip. We begin to live with a quiet confidence: whatever comes, Christ is in us. Whatever the outcome, we are not alone.

And if you’re struggling, know that others are too, perhaps more than you know. The contemplative journey is not a solitary one. We need community, encouragement, and accompaniment. Meditation, when practiced faithfully, doesn’t isolate us; it reconnects us. It restores the body of Christ. It draws us back into communion.

Faithful, not successful

In the end, the measure of meditation is not how serene we feel or how mystical our experiences are. The measure is faithfulness. God does not ask us to be successful meditators. He asks us to be faithful. To return, to sit, to say the mantra, to stay open.

The mirror may not shatter in a day. It may crack slowly, fragment by fragment. But with each breath, each repetition of the mantra, each return to silence, we are moving toward the source of life.

And that is enough.