A Wild Child with a Heart for the Lord: Learning from St. Francis of Assisi

HE WAS HERE FOR A GOOD TIME, not a long time. Saint Francis of Assisi didn’t start out as the holy, saintly man we have as our garden statue or on our bird baths today. No, he was the twenty-one year old guy carousing down your cobblestone street late at night with his friends, rum in hand, just counting down the days till the next wild party. He was the charismatic class clown his teachers gave free passes to simply for his charm. Everyone loved him. He was the Ferris Bueller of the eleventh century.

His father, a successful businessman, made sure his son had a solid future ahead of him. Francis grew to love the allure of France: the romance, the poetry and the opportunities of international business. He became the man his father wanted him to be. But he grew to want more.

He wanted to be a noble knight. The war Assisi declared on their rival town brought the opportunity to suit up and fight, but it was bloodshed. Most troops were destroyed, but the wealthy were spared for a ransom. Francis spent a year as a prisoner, but never failed to lose his boyish charm and upbeat personality.

He returned to Assisi the same as he left it, seemingly unchanged by the “horrors of war.” He took another shot at the military in time for the fifth crusade, sporting a brand new suit and armor paid for by, of course, his father. He boasted he would come back a prince. Instead, he came back humiliated.

On his way to battle, he dreamed God spoke to him and instructed him to return home. So, he turned back and rode back to Assisi to be met with taunts and jeers from the townspeople who called out his cowardice and ostracized him from noble society. He spent more time in solitude and prayer to escape the pain of humiliation. He could hear God’s voice to make a change, but he just didn’t see it as realistic. He had a business to run. Career first, God second, right?

One day in the countryside, he encountered a leper, to which he was repulsed, but he felt compelled to kiss his hand. With the return of a kiss, Francis was overwhelmed with joy and upon his departure, turned around to wave goodbye, and the leper was gone. Francis revered that moment as a test from God.

Francis sat in prayer at San Damiano when he felt the voice of Christ tell him to “repair my church.” Unaware he was speaking about the Church with a big “C,” a very eager and literal Francis began to rebuild the crumbling building he knelt in. God was talking big picture, big Church. The people. But Francis hadn’t made it that far yet, so some manual labor probably wouldn’t hurt anyway. But Francis couldn’t just whip some stones and supplies out of thin air. He needed money. So he snagged some fabric from his father’s business to sell, and oh, was his father upset. Not only was his son a coward, but now he was a thief too! What a disappointment, right?

So he dragged Francis out into the town square before the bishop and demanded he return it all and apologize. And once again, a very literal Francis stripped down and left his clothes before the two and ran singing into the forest. It was either the beginning of a grand adventure or a psychological case study.

He began to preach a life of simplicity and humility in “a wild and carefree way, not stopping to calculate how it might hurt his career or cramp his lifestyle” (Talbot 3). Although his approach was free spirited, he wasn’t a reformer. He never tried to change the Church. He simply sought to return to the roots of what the Church was originally built upon: Humility. Poverty. Love. Compassion. It was a return to God and a return to the Gospel.

He lived the gospel very literally and instructed his followers to do the same. Francis took inspiration from Jesus’ command to the apostles (Matthew 10:7-10) to wander from place to place preaching the Gospel, accepting no pay or favors. How would you like to wander from town to town on foot in the same clothes? Talk about humility. There were no washing machine back then, folks.

Francis preached to the people and to the animals and revered all of earthly creation as a part of his brotherhood, considering the sparrow as much of a brother as the pope. He saw God in everything and everyone. Even the birds would stand still while he preached. He was a Dr. Doolittle before his time. One story even accounts a wolf that was killing and eating people in town, and obviously, everyone wanted to kill the wolf, but Francis said, “wait guys,” and domesticated it, told it that it should be a friend to the people, and sure enough, the wolf became the new town pet.

Francis was simply at one with the world. He saw no divisions between anyone or anything and took a direct approach to solving problems. He wasn’t the one to devise elaborate plans of negotiation or evangelization; he would simply get straight to the point. Even if that meant putting himself in immense danger.

On one account, he traveled to Syria in the middle of a Crusade, going directly to the Sultan. He didn’t ask permission, he didn’t ask questions, he just approached the Muslim army like he would a stranger in the grocery store. Although he was captured, he was miraculously not killed, and the experience concluded with the Sultan telling him, “I would convert to your religion, which is a beautiful one, but both of us would be murdered.” John Michael Talbot, the author of The Lessons of Saint Francis, writes, “When clashes over religion and deeply held values divide people around our world, we can learn much from Francis, a model of respect and civility. Born during the Crusades, the centuries-long mother of all holy wars, Francis sought ways to be loving towards Muslims at a time when much of Christendom sought only to massacre them” (Talbot, 8).

As he aged, Francis began to go blind and develop health problems because of his harsh lifestyle. He had his face cauterized with a hot iron, given the absence of procedures like Lasik back in the day, and when met with this blinding heat, he addressed it, “Brother Fire, the most high has made you strong and beautiful and useful. Be courteous to me in this hour, for I have always loved you and temper your heat so I can endure it.” He reported he felt no pain.

Even upon the end of his life, he had gained a substantial following, but people from the outside criticized the expectations of extreme poverty as being too harsh. It was encouraged that he ease up on the rules of the order, to which Francis stepped down from authority and responded, “Lord, didn’t I tell you they wouldn’t trust you?” Letting go of attachment is a difficult thing to ask of people. How do you let go of attachments to things? You will when you no longer seek to find yourself in them.

Francis was what one would call a mystic, similar to many saints we revere today such as Teresa of Avila (whose feast day is also this month - October 15), Saint Catherine of Siena and Saint Padre Pio. Mysticism simply means, “experiential,” or an intuitive grasp of the whole, something that must be experienced to be understood. (Herr, 73)

Francis saw the world for what it was in God’s eyes. He didn’t compare, compete, or label. He didn’t allow human perception to distort his love for anything or anyone. He lived with such a Christ like love that surpassed any judgment he may have otherwise felt towards those who were different. We are called as Christians to do the same - to love God and His creation with such a childlike innocence as Francis did.

We often see the saints as people we could never be - immaculate, perfect little Catholic children that grow up in perfect Catholic homes, living perfect, spotless Catholic lives. But being a saint isn’t about living the perfect life from beginning to end. First of all, that would be an incredibly boring story. Second of all, if a story doesn’t have a struggle, it’s not a story. That’s just general writer’s knowledge. No one would read that book. Besides, who could relate to someone who did everything right the first time? No one. Absolutely no one.

Francis made plenty of mistakes, but here’s the thing: He used them for the sake of holiness. God gives you your unique gifts for a reason. Francis’s charm and wit made him good with the ladies in his youth, but it also kept him alive later as a prisoner of war. His spontaneity made him the life of the party, but it also made him an excellent leader and evangelist. The gifts we’re given can be used to make us happy or they can be used to make us holy.

On that note, striving to live a holy life isn’t going to grant you the acceptance of everyone - even everyone in the Church. Although many loved him, Francis was met with great opposition from some diocesan priests and monks from wealthy abbeys, as they viewed his way of life as “a reproach to their own,” worrying this movement would lead to radicalism. (Herr, 67) Although in some instances their concerns were legitimate, Francis still disrupted the social norm, and this bothered a lot of people in authority.

As Francis shows us, we can’t look to other people to affirm everything we do. People will criticize, and people will have their opinions no matter how you choose to live, so don’t be afraid to live in the light of Christ. Living wholly and abundantly in His love is exactly what we are called to do - speak the Word and speak the truth and expect people to have their opinions because anything worth saying is usually a little controversial.

How to live like Saint Francis

1. Live Sustainably

“Praised be You, my Lord, through Sister, Mother Earth, who sustains and governs us, producing varied fruits with colored flowers and herbs.” -SF

Surround yourself with life. Plant a garden. If you don’t have a green thumb, get a succulent. Can’t kill those suckers no matter how hard you try. Grow beautiful living things inside your home, and most of all, fill your home with creation and love in whatever you do. Take care of the Earth, because really, it’s the only place we’ve got.

2. Live Quietly

“Preach always. If necessary, use words.” -SF

Not everything requires your commentary. People watch what you do, not what you say. God lives in the silence, so it’s best we meet Him there often.

3. Live Joyfully

“It is not fitting, when one is in God’s service, to have a gloomy face or a chilling look.” -SF

“God save us from gloomy saints!” -Teresa of Avila

So loosin’ up, folks. Remember when Jesus said to wash your face and present yourself well even when you’re fasting? If you’re trying to show other people how great it is to be a Christian, smile a bit, won’t you?

Sing in the shower, no matter how tone deaf you think you are! Paint a watercolor painting of something mediocre! Write like your life is a beautiful masterpiece, because it is!

4. Live Courageously

“Where there is charity and wisdom, there is neither fear nor ignorance.”-SF

Francis was met with substantial opposition from other Catholics, even those in authority. Live your life in accordance with the Gospel and don’t be afraid to live differently.

Talbot, John M. The Lessons of Saint Francis, 1997.

Herr, William A., Catholic Thinkers in the Clear, 1985.

https://www.catholic.org/saints/saint.php?saint_id=50

https://www.franciscanmedia.org/richard-rohr-on-praying-like-saint-francis/