For Dom Chautard, hope comes in the form of a nudge from the Heavenly Friend:
Thus deformed, the apostle lives outside of Christ, and as for the confidential words spoken by Jesus to His true friends: they are no longer for him.
And yet, at long intervals, the heavenly Friend manages to reach him with a movement of remorse, a light, an appeal. He waits. He knocks. He asks to be let in. “Come to Me, poor wounded soul, won’t you come to Me? I will heal you.” Venite ad me omnes . . . et ego reficiam vos.1″ For I am your salvation: solus tua ego sum.1″ I came to save that which was lost: ‘ Venit Filius hominis quaerere et salvum facere quod perierat.” ” So gentle, so kind, so discreet, so urgent, this voice brings moments of emotion, and sentimental, evanescent urges to do better. But the door of the heart is only slightly ajar. Jesus cannot get in. These good movements in the tepid soul come to nothing at all. Grace goes by in vain, and will turn against the soul. Perhaps Jesus, in His mercy, to avoid piling up a huge store of wrath, will even cease His appeals. “Fear Jesus passing by, and never returning.”18These words paint both a benign and scary image on the reader, this one included. On the one hand, we have Our Lord standing at the door and knocking gently as He does, waiting to be let in. But since the door is ajar, and the soul does not hurry to open it and let the Lord in, He eventually stops knocking ... for our sake, it seems.
It really brings home the verse from Scripture - "Turn away from Me, I never knew thee."
Do we really want Our Lord to say that to us at our particular judgement? Due to something we could have easily prevented or worked against?