The Basis of Inward Quietness is Faith

The basis of this remarkable and interesting state of mind [that is, inward quietness] is FAITH. 

In the first place, it is faith, operating by love. That is to say, a faith in the character of God, which results in the restoration of love to God. Those, who believe God, love God; those, who believe him much, love him much; those, who believe perfectly, love perfectly. The sequence of love to faith, both in fact and degree, is not a mere matter of arbitrary choice or volition; but may rather be regarded as the result of a permanent and unchangeable law, a law which is true now and true always, which exists on earth and exists every where else. 

And we may add, that those, who love God as they ought to love him, cannot love other things otherwise than they ought to. The love of God in the heart, existing in accordance with the commandment, viz., thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, cannot fail to bring every desire, every affection, which has relation either to ourselves or to others, into subjection. Every desire, every affection, every tendency of our nature which is susceptible of a moral character, resumes, from that memorable moment, its true position. And when order is thus restored to the mind, by the reduction of every thing to its proper place, quietness of spirit exists and prevails as a necessary result. It is true it is no common love, which can effect this; and consequently it is no common degree of faith which gives rise to such love. But a grace so eminent as that of true quietness of spirit cannot be expected to exist where faith is weak.

In the second place, the grace of quietness of spirit is sustained by faith in God’s providences; or perhaps we should say more specifically, by faith in God’s presence in his providences. We have already had occasion to refer to this great practical doctrine, that, in the succession of God’s providences, God himself is hidden in the bosom of every event. He is there, although he is not always seen. He is there to watch and control, if he is not there to originate. So that we can truly say, that no event in his providence happens, without bringing God with it, and without laying his hand upon us. The man of faith, therefore, knows, (and he cannot know it without bringing it home to his own case,) that he, who is impatient with events, is impatient with God; he who frets at events frets at God; he, who is not acquiescent in events, is at war with God. In such a position he cannot, he dare not place himself.

— from The Life of Faith, Part 2, Chapter 13.

Quietness Disturbed: Quietness in Semblance

Quietness of spirit is sometimes disturbed by our desires and efforts to do good. The danger from this source is undoubtedly less imminent than that from some other sources. It is true, however, that it really exists. Truly pious persons sometimes defeat their own object and do considerable injury by permitting the suggestions of grace to be controlled by the unbelieving zeal of nature, instead of being chastened and regulated by the oversight of grace added to grace. 

We admit that from time to time we meet with something, which looks like quietness of spirit, with something which is a semblance of it; which, nevertheless, has no foundation in the true and sanctified adjustment of the inward state. The inactivity of nature, to which we have reference in making this remark, is a very different thing, both in its origin and its manifestations, from the calm rest of grace. 

Natural quietude is the result of darkness; spiritual quietude is the child of light. The one does nothing, because it is too indolent and too selfish to do any thing, and its rest, therefore, bears the fatal mark of being a rest in its own will. The other, which does nothing in its own choice, does all things in God’s will, so that its rest is in God and not in itself. The one is the rest of a man, who, unconscious of his danger, is walking blindfolded on the brink of a precipice. The other is the conscious rest of a glorified spirit, who walks in peace, and with open vision, on the golden pavements of the New Jerusalem.

— from The Life of Faith, Part 2, Chapter 13.

Inward Quietness & Outward Trials

It is hardly necessary to speak of the results of quietness of spirit, in relation to the various outward trials, to which all persons are subject in the present life. The very term itself implies, that these trials shall be met, not only without a murmur, but with entire acquiescence and even cheerfulness. “Fret not thyself,” says the Scripture, “because of evil doers.” 

If moral evils exist in the world to a very great extent, as they obviously do, if sin abounds in various forms, oftentimes undisguised and shameless in its affrontery, if Christians are less decided and less watchful against it than they ought to be, it will still remain true, both now and in all time to come, that this state of things, trying as it is to a truly devout heart, will be more likely to be corrected by the efforts of a meek and resigned, than by those of a fretful and rebellious state of soul. The person of a meek spirit understands this; and he cannot allow the sins, which he witnesses, to produce in his own mind a state of feeling, which would be prejudicial to himself without being beneficial to others.

Inward Quietness & Harmony

The state of mind, which is described as meekness or quietness of spirit, is characterized, in a very high degree, by inward harmony. When the judgment is rendered clear by religious influences, when the appetites are subdued, when the various propensities and affections, once rebellious and conflicting, are each and all in their place, operating where they ought to operate and not operating where they ought not to operate, the mind not only presents the aspect of rest or quietness but is obviously in harmony with itself; without which, indeed, the state of rest could not exist. The love of God is restored to its position, as the supreme, the controlling principle; and every natural desire and affection is exercised in subordination to it. There is not that inward jarring, which had formerly existed, thought in conflict with thought, passion contending with passion, and conscience asserting rights which it could not maintain. 

“Disorderly passions,” says Mr. Henry in his interesting Discourse on Meekness and Quietness of Spirit, “are like stormy winds in the soul; they toss and hurry it, and often strand or overset it. They move it, ‘as the trees of the wood are moved with the wind;’ it is the Prophet’s comparison, and is an apt emblem of a man in passion. Now MEEKNESS restrains these winds, says to them, PEACE, BE STILL, and so preserves a calm in the soul and makes it conformable to Him, who has the winds in his hand, and is herein to be praised, that even the stormy winds fulfil his word.” [A Discourse on Meekness and Quietness of Spirit, by Rev. Matthew Henry (1662-1714), New York Ed. p. 34.]

— from The Life of Faith, Part 2, Chapter 13.

Inward Quietness

In attempting to give some account of the influences of faith on man’s inward nature, we cannot well forget, that one of its most marked and pleasant results is the grace of a meek and quiet spirit. That state of mind, which the Apostle Peter describes as an ornament, which is “not corruptible,” and which in the sight of God is “of great price.”

Of the grace of inward quietness, as of other Christian graces, we find some striking illustrations in the scriptures, particularly in the characters and lives of Abraham, Moses, Samuel, Daniel, the Apostle John; and more than all, and above all, in the character and the life, in the labors and the trials of Jesus Christ. It is this trait of the Savior’s character, which seems to be particularly indicated in the prophetic passage in Isaiah, where it is said of him, “He shall not strive, nor cry; neither shall any man hear his voice in the streets.” And still more strikingly, where it is said; “he was oppressed, and he was afflicted, yet he opened not his mouth.”

God Worshipped in His Works

"The heavens declare the glory of God: and the firmament showeth his handy work. Day unto day uttereth speech, and night unto night showeth knowledge. There is no speech nor language where their voice is not heard." — Ps. 19. 1, 2, 3.

Men use a different speech in different climes,
But Nature hath one voice and only one.
Her wandering moon, her stars, her golden sun,
Her woods and waters, in all lands and times,
In one deep song proclaim the wondrous story.
They tell it to each other in the sky,
Upon the winds they send it sounding high,
Jehovah's wisdom, goodness, power, and glory.
I hear it come from mountain, cliff, and tree,
Ten thousand voices in one voice united;
On every side the song encircles me,
The whole round world reveres and is delighted.
Ah! why, when heaven and earth lift up their voice,
Ah! why should man alone nor worship nor rejoice!

— The Religious Offering (1835) XXVI.

A Conqueror, But Not at Rest

Reflections on
the Life of
Madame Jeanne de la Mothe Guyon.

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Her growth  in  grace. The account she gives of her will, as subdued in its operations, but not wholly renovated in its nature. Remarks on this subject.

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 Whatever mistakes she may have committed in the period of which we are now speaking, it is evident that she was growing in grace. The world had lost, in an increased degree, its power. Her inward nature had become more conformed to the requisitions of the gospel law. We have evidence of this in various ways. Among other things, speaking of Paris,  which had formerly been to her a place of temptation and injury, she remarks, in connection with a visit which she was obliged to make there, 

Francis de la Combe

Reflections on
the Life of
Madame Jeanne de la Mothe Guyon.

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Her first acquaintance, July  1671, with Francis La Combe. Some account of him.

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It  is during this period of her personal history, as it is given in her Autobiography, that we first find mention made of Francis de la Combe. As this somewhat distinguished individual is closely connected with a portion of her history, it may be proper to say something of him. He was born at Thonon, a flourishing town of Savoy, situated on the borders of the lake of Geneva. 

Christian Experience and Present Duty

Reflections on
the Life of
Madame Jeanne de la Mothe Guyon.

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Discharge of domestic and other duties. Trials in relation to her seasons of prayer. Of the faults of which she considered herself guilty at this period. Remarks on a regard for God's providences.

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She thought, therefore, with some reason, that at this period of her life she might have failed, in some degree, in her duty to her husband and her family, in consequence of not fully understanding the will of God as developed in his providences. And this view of things perhaps gives a significancy to a remark, which her husband once made, that "she loved God so much that she had no love left for him." It will help to illustrate the source of error and trouble which we are now trying to explain, if we give one or two other facts, which involve the same principle. She had a beautiful garden. And in the time of fruits and flowers, she often walked there. But such was the intensity of her contemplations on God, such "her inward attraction," as she expresses it, that her eye seemed to be closed, and she knew nothing, comparatively speaking, of the outward beauty which surrounded her. And when she went into the house, and her husband asked her how the fruits were, and how the flowers grew, she knew but little about it. And it was not surprising, I think, that it gave him considerable offense.

Prayer — But, Without God's Favor

Reflections on
the Life of
Madame Jeanne de la Mothe Guyon.

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Discharge of domestic and other duties. Trials in relation to her seasons of prayer. Of the faults of which she considered herself guilty at this period. Remarks on a regard for God's providences.

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 Undoubtedly, in an important sense of the terms, the religious man's place is his closet. "Enter into thy closet" says the Saviour, "and pray to thy Father, who seeth in secret." The closet is an indispensable place to him. But whenever he goes there in violation of God's providence. it ceases to be a place of God's appointment, and he goes  there without God, It should never be forgotten, therefore, that it is God himself, who consecrates the place, and makes it a profitable one. And He will never consent to be jostled out of his true locality, which is always ascertained and designated by His providences, by means of any merely human arrangements. And accordingly we may lay it down as an important practical principle, that the times and places which are erected within the sphere of God's providences, and are in harmony with them, are right and well; and that all other times and places are wrong.

Particular Times and Places

Reflections on
the Life of
Madame Jeanne de la Mothe Guyon.

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General remarks on her experience during the year 1671. (1)

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 During the year 1671, the hand of the Lord, considered in comparison with its former dealings, seems to have been staid. God had found her faithful; and her soul without having entered into the state of permanent rest and union, experienced, amid all her trials, a high degree of inward consolation and peace. She was patient and faithful in the discharge of domestic duties, regular and watchful in her seasons of private devotion, and prompt in performing the duties of kindness and benevolence to others. In intimating that her trials were diminished, as compared with those of the preceding year, we do not mean to say that she was without trials; but, whatever they were, she was greatly supported under them. And I think it may be added, that, both by the griefs she suffered, and by the duties she discharged, and by the supports and consolations which were afforded her, the process of inward crucifixion was continually going on.

Oh Loved! But Not Enough...

Reflections on
the Life of
Madame Jeanne de la Mothe Guyon.

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Oh loved! but not enough...

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Oh loved! but not enough — though dearer far
Than self and its most loved enjoyments are;
None duly loves thee, but who, nobly free
From sensual objects, finds his all in thee.
 
Glory of God! thou stranger here below,
Whom man nor knows, nor feels a wish to know;
Our faith and reason are both shocked to find
Man in the post of honour—Thee behind.

Faithfulness in Trial

Reflections on
the Life of
Madame Jeanne de la Mothe Guyon.

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Faithfulness in trial. Spiritual consolations.

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In all the trials which she was thus called to endure, in the afflictions of her own person, and in the loss of her favorite son, it may be said of her, as it was of Job, — who is naturally called to mind by the story of her sufferings, — that she "sinned not, nor charged God foolishly."  So far, at least, as the occurrences, which have now been mentioned, are concerned, the sincerity of the consecration which she had made of herself and of all her interests to God, had been tried; and through the grace of God it had not been found wanting.

Taking Up the Cross

Inward crucifixion, when considered in particular instances, is the same thing as taking up the Cross; and if the Scriptures require us to take up the Cross daily, as every reader of the Bible knows that they do, then inward crucifixion becomes our DAILY BREAD. I think it may be said with entire truth, (indeed the scripture command implies it,) that not a day passes, which does not furnish occasion for the fulfillment of the scripture requisition. 

Crosses, planted by the hand of a wise providence, meet us at every step. And we are not at liberty to avoid them. We cannot avoid them without turning aside from God himself. And accordingly, in the spirit of a heart crucified, we must always stoop to the burden, which they impose upon us and must take them on our shoulders, and must bear them as humbly, as willingly, and as rejoicingly as Christ bore his. And happy is the soul, that knows from his own inward experience, that a sanctified Cross is a storehouse of spiritual blessings.

Inward crucifixion, when carried, as it always ought to be, to its full extent, is the result of strong faith. It is hardly necessary to make remarks in support of this proposition. Who would relinquish the world, with the attractions the world holds out, be they more or less, if he had not faith in something better than the world? Who, that is destitute of faith, can find in himself or elsewhere the power which is requisite to keep the various propensities and passions in their place, and in their right action moment by moment? Where will the man, that is without faith, find resources to sustain himself, against the trial of heavy temptations, without a fear or a murmur arising from the workings of a selfish nature? Who can walk in God’s way and will, deprived by his special providence of all inward consolations, without faith? How can a man have his soul so fixed upon God as not to look with a self-interested complacency even on his spiritual gifts and graces, without the supports of a strong faith? We need not delay upon this matter. It is exceedingly obvious, we think, and the concession is confirmed by the experience and testimony of all devout Christians, that without faith the results, which are involved in inward crucifixion, cannot be realized.

— from The Life of Faith, Part 2, Chapter 12.

Crucified to Holiness Itself

But perhaps the most decisive mark of the truly crucified man is, that he is crucified even to holiness itself. That is to say, he desires God only, seeks God only, is satisfied and can be satisfied with God only, in distinction from those truly spiritual gifts or graces, which God by his Holy Spirit imparts to the soul.

The truly devout man, for instance, exercises penitence, submission, gratitude, forgiveness, and other Christian graces on their appropriate occasions; and he has great reason to be thankful to God that he is enabled to do it. But if in some moment of inward forgetfulness, of religious “irrecollection,” if we may so term it, he turns the thoughts and the interests of his heart from God to the graces which God gives, and begins to take complacency in his religious exercises, and to be happy in his holiness and to love his holiness, instead of a fixed and exclusive love for the Author of his holiness, I think we may confidently say, he is no longer a man dead to self, no longer in the proper sense of the terms a man inwardly crucified. 

“The purer our gifts are,” says Fenelon, “the more jealous God is of our appropriating or directing them to ourselves. The most eminent graces are the most deadly poisons, if we rest in them and regard them with complacency. It is the sin of the fallen angels. They only turned to themselves, and regarded their state with complacency. At that instant they fell from heaven, and became the enemies of God.”

— from The Life of Faith, Part 2, Chapter 12.

Inward Crucifixion and Inward Consolations

Those, who are the subjects of inward crucifixion, do not seek, and do not value inward consolations in themselves considered. “It is written,” says the Savior, “man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of God.” Consolation is the attendant of religion, but it is not religion itself. Religion, in its highest sense, implies an entire union with the will of God. The true food of our souls is God’s commandment, which is only another name for God’s will. A desire of any thing, and complacency in any thing, which does not place God’s will first, is infidelity to God’s claims. Holy joy is not a thing, which comes by volition; but by a necessary law. If our hearts are right with God, such joy will always come in its appropriate place; not because it is called or willed, but because it cannot help coming. It is a thing which flows from holiness as from its natural fountain. The truly crucified man, therefore, is right in seeking the fountain first. Holiness is something which must be desired and sought for itself; something, which must stand, independently of its pleasant results, first in the mind’s eye, first in the heart’s affections.

— from The Life of Faith, Part 2, Chapter 12.

Inward Crucifixion and Adverse Circumstances

The inwardly crucified man receives with entire acquiescence and peace of spirit all adverse occurrences of whatever nature, the misrepresentations and rebukes of his fellow-men, the various injuries of body and estate, the disappointments of broken friendship and violated faith, the natural and unavoidable disruptions of social and family ties, and whatever other forms of human affliction exist. Whatever comes upon him, he feels that he deserves it. He opens not his mouth, except to praise the hand that is laid upon him. Satan, it is true, avails himself of the trials of his situation, and tempts him to evil thoughts; but he is enabled with divine assistance to resist them and to triumph over them. It seems to him a light thing to suffer any thing which God sees fit to impose. It is true, that the trials which he endures sometimes occasion sorrow and even deep sorrow; but it is a sorrow which is consistent with reconciliation to his lot and even happiness; a sorrow without repining, grief without bitterness.

— from The Life of Faith, Part 2, Chapter 12.

Inward Crucifixion and Worldly Honors

The truly crucified man, like the truly humble man, does not desire great or eminent things for himself; but deeply sensible of his unworthiness and dependence, it is entirely natural to him, in his new state of feeling, to seek, and to take the lowest place. 

In other words, as one of the results of his being crucified with Christ, he is dead to the perception and the pursuit of worldly honors. If, however, God should see fit, in his providence, to call him to a conspicuous and important station in the world, as he did anciently some of his pious servants, the fact of inward crucifixion would leave him no choice but the divine choice, no will but the divine will. He is entirely acquiescent, and not only acquiescent but rejoices alike in what God gives, and in what he takes away; because he esteems all things which he has, whether it be more or less, whether it be regarded by the world as honor or dishonor, in the light of a gift from God, and looks upon it as valuable only as it is subservient to God’s glory.

— from The Life of Faith, Part 2, Chapter 12.