The life of those who dwell in the secret place of the Most High may be called a Hidden Life, because the animating principle, the vital or operative element, is not so much in itself as in another. It is a life grafted into another life. It is the life of the soul, incorporated into the life of Christ; and in such a way, that, while it has a distinct vitality, it has so very much in the sense, in which the branch of a tree may be said to have a distinct vitality from the root.

Saturday, November 16, 2024

Prayer — But, Without God's Favor

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




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.


 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.

"All my crosses," she says, "would have seemed little, if I might have had liberty, in those seasons when I desired it, to be alone and to pray. But my mother-in-law and husband, who acted in concert, in respect to my religious exercises, as they did in regard to many other things, restricted me much. The subjection under which I was thus brought, was painful to me, exceedingly so. Accordingly, when it was understood that I had retired for a season of prayer, my husband would look on his watch, to see if I staid above half an hour. He thought that half an hour was enough for that purpose. If I exceeded that time, he grew very uneasy, and complained.

"Sometimes I used a little artifice to effect my purposes. I went to him, and asked him, saying nothing of any devotional exercises, if he would grant me an hour, only one hour, to divert myself in some way, or in any way; that might be pleasing to my own mind. If I had specified some known worldly amusement, I should probably have obtained my  request. But, as he could hardly fail to see that I wanted the time for prayer, I did not succeed. He would have granted my request for other diversions; but for prayer he would not.

"I must confess that my imperfect religious knowledge and experience caused me much trouble. I often exceeded my half-hour; my husband was angry, and I was sad. But it was I, myself, in part at least, who thus gave occasion for what I was made to suffer. Was it not God, as well as my husband, who placed this restriction upon me? I understood it afterwards, but did not understand it then. I ought to have looked upon my captivity as a part of God's providences and as an  effect  of His will. If I had separated these things from the subordinate agent, and looked upon them in the true divine light, I might have been contented, I might have been happy. In time I understood these things. When months and years had passed away, God erected his temple fully in my heart. He entered there, and I entered with him. I learned to pray in that divine retreat; and from that time I went no more out."

— from The Life of Madame Guyon (1877), Volume 1,  Chapter 11.



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