Episode Transcript  

One

A Ruler with a Rule of Life

Saint Louis IX was no cloistered monk. He was a husband, a father of eleven children, and ruler of one of the most powerful kingdoms in Europe. He negotiated peace, reformed the legal system, codified royal justice, and sat beneath the oak of Vincennes to hear the cries of the poor. He navigated wars and alliances across a fractured Europe. And yet, in the midst of it all, he carved out time each day for God.

How? He lived by a rule of life. Louis began each morning with silent meditation and a concrete resolution. He went to daily Mass, examined his conscience each evening, and confessed weekly. His life was structured, not ruled by busyness or distraction, but by rhythm and purpose. He ordered his time so he could give himself away. He knew the proper hierarchy: God first, then family, then kingdom.

In an age addicted to noise, Louis shows us that sanctity begins with structure. We, too, need a plan for life, a rule of life, to keep our eyes fixed on heaven while fulfilling our duties on earth.

Two

A King Who Served the Poor

Louis ruled from a palace, but he lived like a servant. Each day, he gave alms personally, food, clothing, and money, not through ministers, but with his own hands. He often fed over a hundred beggars at his table, and at the end of the meal, he would kneel and wash their feet.

He founded the Quinze-Vingts Hospital in Paris for 300 blind men, as well as homes for orphans, the sick, and the abandoned. Walking through Paris, Louis encountered a man with leprosy and insisted on washing his wounds himself, offering him his own cloak and his care. At Royaumont Abbey, he often slipped away from royal duties to serve the sick in secret. He believed he was serving Christ, who was hidden in their suffering.

Louis lived in a Catholic culture. Most of his people believed in Christ, but many still suffered physically, and he responded with personal love. He didn’t delegate mercy. He took personal responsibility and action. But our world is different. Most of our friends and family aren’t starving for food. They’re starving for God. They don’t know the love of Christ. They aren’t living in friendship with Him. And Christ expects us to do something—not someone else. What should we do?

With intentionality, confidence, and persistence, pray and offer sacrifice for the conversion of your fallen-away loved ones. Sacrifice that hurts, that costs you something. Then, build a bridge of friendship. Invite them to do some good human thing together. Go on a walk, invite them for a drink, share a meal. Be curious. Listen. Ask what matters to them. Listen, be interested, and be patient. When the moment is right, invite them to pray the Rosary with you, come to Mass, or encounter Christ in confession or OCIA.

God has placed specific people in your life for a reason. You are the one He intends to reach them. You can’t delegate this. You must get close, get involved, and love them gently toward heaven.

Three

Crusades 

The Muslim Caliph, Hakim the Mad, destroyed the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, banned pilgrimage to the Holy Land, and unleashed a violent persecution on the Christians who lived there. His actions shocked Europe and helped spark the Crusades. King Louis IX answered the call.

He led two Crusades, desiring to reclaim the Holy Land for Christ. But both ended in failure. In 1249, he captured Damietta in Egypt, but chaos and disease devastated his army. He was taken prisoner. Yet even in captivity, his captors knelt before him, recognizing his holiness. Released after a ransom, he was allowed to go on pilgrimage to the Holy Land, praying at the few sites still accessible. In 1270, he launched one final Crusade to Tunis, where he fell ill and died, lying on ashes and whispering, “Jerusalem.”

Why did God allow this saint, who wanted to do such a good thing, to fail in this great effort? 

Four

The Dark Night 

To the world, the two failed Crusades sure looked like everything had gone wrong. But in God’s eyes, it was just the opposite. Through these losses and failures, God was pouring Himself into Louis’s soul and pushing out everything that was less than Him. In the darkness, Louis was being emptied so that God could fill him completely.

What King Louis wanted most was transforming union with Christ. But that union could only happen when the soul is emptied of everything less.

Every person has two or three good things that they actually want more than God. Things we think make up our identity and self-worth, things we think we must have for happiness and security. Attachment to these things, no matter how good, prevents God from filling our souls and transforming us completely. This is why God allows the Dark Night, why He allows good things to be stripped away. 

The Dark Night might take the form of a difficult marriage, a chronic health problem, some failure in business, or simply retirement, the loss of a spouse or loved one. Whatever form the Dark Night takes, God is not punishing us. God is flooding in and pushing created things out, making room to be filled by God. As Ps 36:8 promises, “They will be inebriated from the richness of your house. And you will let them drink from the torrent of your delight. Yes, with you is the fountain of life, and by your light we see the light.”

Five

Spiritual Ascent

When Louis returned from his first Crusade, he wasn’t defeated, he was awakened. He had gone to fight for Christ with armies and strategy, but everything unraveled. His men died, his mission collapsed, and he was humiliated. The campaign ended not in glory, but in emptiness. And in that emptiness, Louis saw the world for what it truly is: fleeting, fragile, and unable to satisfy the soul. 

Earthly victories, even in the name of God, can become idols. Strength fails, wealth vanishes, relationships fade. But one thing remains: union with God. Louis had fought for the Holy Land, but now he sought to become a holy land, a soul hungry for God alone. He withdrew from courtly life. He fasted, prayed, and confessed frequently. He dressed simply, embraced silence, and lived like a monk with a crown. He was no longer preparing for a campaign. He was preparing for eternity.

And so must we. As our worldly responsibilities lessen, when our children are grown, when retirement comes, when life quiets down, we are not being sidelined. We are being invited. This is the hour to give God everything: time, attention, love. Don’t waste this precious time on news and shows, sports and distractions. 

Louis’s final years were his ascent. Let’s make ours the same.  The world fades. God remains.

Suggested Resolutions:

Choose one resolution for today to help you grow closer to God, or create your own. Here are some ideas to inspire you. 

• St. Louis didn’t just serve the poor by offering up his money, but by offering up his time. Consider helping out in a food kitchen or street ministry, meeting people face to face and serving them as Christ would.

• As you face challenges throughout your week, remember St. Louis, his failed crusades and imprisonment, and remember that when our plans go awry, God is reminding us of His plan.

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