A Dialogue in the Night: The Disciple and St Charbel

The lamp burned low beside the small window of the hermitage.

The disciple’s breath trembled like a man who walked long while carrying an unseen stone in his chest.

In the quiet, a presence stood, not in vision, not in thunder,

but like cedar smoke lingering after a fading flame.

St Charbel spoke as one who had become silence.

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Disciple: Father, something within me is shifting. Not in rebellion, nor in doubt, but like a door I did not ask for slowly opening in the night. I feel drawn toward a life more rooted in prayer, yet I do not know if this desire is obedience or my own longing dressed as grace.

St Charbel: Desire is a beautiful but dangerous lamp. It lights the path only when it burns with humility. Sit with me. Let the mind settle like dust after wind. When the waters rest, even the moon may be seen.

Disciple: I want only to be faithful. Yet I sense a road I have never walked whispering to me. A road that is not here, and yet not fully elsewhere. I do not know whether to remain still or to follow where something unseen calls.

St Charbel said nothing.

The silence itself answered like a slow heartbeat of God.

St Charbel: My child, fidelity is not a prison. Fidelity is love.

I remained in the place God planted me not because it was easiest or safe,

but because He gave me no wind to move.

Do not run because the air tastes new.

Do not refuse the wind should it rise.

Wait. Let the Spirit breathe first.

Disciple: And how shall I know?

How shall I discern when the whisper is His voice and not the echo of my own unrest?

St Charbel: The humble do not seek certainty first.

They seek God.

Clarity is the shadow cast by love.

When you desire nothing but Christ—

not history, not identity, not belonging to one place or another—

then the path will reveal itself like dawn.

The disciple lowered his eyes.

Tears gathered without spilling.

Disciple: Something in me yearns for deeper stillness.

For breath that becomes prayer without thought.

For the life the Fathers knew in their bones.

Yet another voice says: Wait. Do not answer the call until peace speaks.

St Charbel: Then obey that voice.

Not because it forbids movement,

but because it asks for purity of heart before motion.

No decision born from unrest brings life.

Let longing burn down to embers—quiet, steady, free of fear.

Then, if God calls, you will move without trembling.

Disciple: And if the Lord leads me to soil not yet my own?

St Charbel: Then go as one who leaves with blessing,

not as one who escapes.

But do not think of leaving or remaining now.

Think only of Christ.

Where love is pure, every place becomes home.

Outside, the cedars swayed like men bowed in prayer.

The disciple felt the weight in him loosen, not vanish—

but settle like a stone placed gently on an altar.

Disciple: Teach me to pray.

St Charbel: Begin with silence.

Let the Holy Name become the breath itself.

Bow often, speak little, guard the heart from self-defining thoughts.

Hide your discernment like treasure beneath the earth until it flowers.

Become so small that only God remains.

Disciple: And then I will know the road?

St Charbel: You will not need to.

The one who possesses God lacks nothing.

When love becomes your only identity,

the path will appear because you no longer demand one.

His voice dimmed to a whisper like incense fading into dark.

St Charbel: Be still until God is your only voice.

Then whatever road opens beneath your feet will be peace.