How? He does it by allowing them to be placed in situations over which they have no control, by letting them experience their helplessness, their need to turn to other people for support, and their need for God. He does it by letting them experience their own emptiness and nothingness.

Such experiences are very painful. When I was 28 years old and already five years a priest, I had read all the great books and had studied mightily. I was formed by the social encyclicals and was ready to take on the world as far as developing the lay apostolate was concerned.

I had already been very successful in spreading the ideals of the lay apostolate to my fellow priests, to seminarians and to budding lay apostles. I had it made—for five years.

Then came such opposition to my works and ideals that I saw them gradually crumble. And I accompanied them into the pit.

All the temptations assailed me—disobedience, depression, disgust, discouragement, lust, despair. I who had worked so hard to convert others, experienced in my very gut, my own need for conversion, my own utter need of God’s grace and merciful love.

And it was only after some four or five years in that state that I emerged into the sunshine of God’s love. Only then did I realize that of myself I could do nothing, and that God loved me, forgave me, and would accompany me every moment of my life if I let him.

I had been considered a very good priest, but God very kindly, very lovingly, showed me my infinite capacity for sin and my need for his infinite, merciful love. That’s why I know that good priests are sometimes the most difficult people to convert.

So I give praise to God for the people who caused my downfall, because that downfall turned into a conversion and a discovery of the true God, the merciful God.

But the story is not over. The need for “letting go and letting God,” as Alcoholics Anonymous puts it, is a constant battle for me. And I expect it will be until my last breath.

Adapted from an unpublished manuscript (approximately 1997).