How We Can Attain a Holy Life (Rewritten)

In our previous post, we explored an important idea: the deepest and most meaningful expressions of spiritual life — those moments when the barriers between God and the human soul seem to fall away — are inseparably linked to holiness of heart. If that’s true, then the next natural question is an urgent one: How do we actually become holy?

How do we move from weak faith to confident faith, from inconsistent love to a love that is whole and mature? How do we experience what Scripture often calls entire sanctification?

In response, we suggest that three essential elements are involved—always in partnership with the work of the Holy Spirit. Without these, holiness will remain more of a theory than a lived reality.

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.

A Journey to Orleans and Touraine

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

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Journey to Orleans and Touraine — Temptations and religious infidelities and falls repeated

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Her husband, with the keen eye of one, who did not consider the value of her natural character as enhanced at all by her religious traits, saw her position [of spiritual conflict], and we may well suppose secretly rejoiced at it. It was no disquiet to him, looking at the matter in the worldly light, that she had made her appearance in the fashionable companies of the most gay and fashionable city in the world. And still he could not but see that the snare, which was thus laid for the faith and piety of his wife, in the attractions and assemblies of Paris, had in some degree failed. He was not ignorant that she had both seen her danger, and had exhibited the wisdom and the decision to flee from it. But certainly, if her religious principle was thus severely tested at Paris, there could be no hazard to it, in her making an excursion into the country, among mountains and rivers, and others of  God's great works. This, obviously, was a very natural suggestion. It was proposed, therefore, that she should take a distant journey. Her husband could go with her, and was ready to do it. His state of health was such, that it could hardly fail to be beneficial And if her own health should not be improved, as it would be very likely to be, it would certainly contribute to her happiness. And it was an incidental consideration which had its weight, that her parents came from Montargis, the place of her early life and recollections, which could be visited in the way. Orleans, too, which it was contemplated to visit in the tour was a celebrated and beautiful city. Nor was it a small thing to an imaginative mind like hers, to tread the banks and to behold the scenery of the magnificent Loire. With that great river there were some interesting recollections connected. Not many years before, its waters had been wedded to those of the Seine by the Canal of Briare — an astonishing work, a monument of the enterprise of her husband’s father, and the principal source of the wealth of her family. Hence arose the journey to the distant province of Touraine, in the spring or summer of 1670.

Rest From Condemnation

"Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid." — John 14:27 (KJV)

In analyzing and explaining the elements of that pure and heavenly peace, which our Savior has left both as the inheritance and the characteristic of truly holy souls, we proceed to remark, further, that they are at rest from the reproofs of conscience.

This is a state of things very different from that which is experienced by souls that are only partially united with God. The latter, as they are going through the transition state from love commencing to love completed, have a constant conflict in themselves. Their inward good and evil are arrayed in opposition to each other. They see the right; but they continue, in some degree at least, to follow the wrong. And just so far as this is the case, they are under condemnation. And under such circumstances, they cannot fail to be uneasy and unhappy.

Called to Holiness

It is to this great result, therefore, and to this great work, that every individual is called. “Be ye holy,” says God, “for I am holy.” “Be ye perfect, as your Father in heaven is perfect.” The law of God’s holy nature would not allow him to command less or to require less. His mighty heart of love is fixed upon the one great object, that all other hearts, that all other moral beings throughout the universe may be in unison with himself, and bear his own image. It is this, still more than mere forgiveness or pardon, great and wonderful and costly as that is, which constitutes salvation. And if it is a great work, considered in reference to its results, it is great also, considered in reference to the difficulties, which perplex it. 

But difficult as it is, God, operating by the Holy Spirit in the production of faith in the heart, can accomplish it. Human nature, instigated by distrust of God or by confidence in its own efforts, has attempted the work in other ways, and by other instrumentalities, but always in vain. It has found all its toils and all its sufferings useless, its fastings, its pilgrimages, its macerations, its many tears, its fixed purpose of being better and of doing better, of no avail when unattended by faith. They are nothing, and perhaps we may say, are worse than nothing, except when they are yielded as subsequent in time and in cooperation with faith. Undoubtedly some persons have made the attempt, (ecclesiastical history, especially that part of it which exists in the shape of religious biographies and memoirs, furnishes abundant proofs of it,) to gain the victory over their inward sins, and to sanctify themselves by a system of works, who have been ignorant, in a great degree, of the true principles of the Gospel on this subject. They have made the attempt, therefore, as it is probable, with a considerable degree of natural sincerity; with a real desire, according to the light which they possessed, to become what the Lord would have them to be. And God, who always regards real sincerity of feeling, even when it is perplexed by ignorance, has in many cases blessed them. But the result invariably has been, that they see at last, and acknowledge at last, that any system of human effort, which does not consist in simple cooperation and union with the antecedent presence and operation of the grace of faith in the heart, is without avail. So that the first great work of man, the first indispensable work, indispensable for sanctification as it is for forgiveness, indispensable now and indispensable moment by moment forever, is to BELIEVE.

—The Life of Faith, Part 2, Chapter 3.

Assurance and Consecration

Whatever may be true in regard to the lower degrees of religious faith, we may regard it as a fixed principle, that there can be no such thing as assurance of faith, without the antecedent existence of personal and entire consecration. Assurance of faith, as the phrase appears to be understood by those, who have written upon the subject, is not merely an assured faith, that God has an existence, or that he is good and just; but it is an assurance or assured belief that God is the God, the Father, and Friend of the subject of this faith. In other words, it is a state of mind, existing on the part of the subject of it, which excludes doubt in relation to his own personal and religious acceptance. The Christian, who possesses it, is enabled to speak in the first person. With a calm, unwavering, rejoicing confidence, and still without presumption, he can say of Christ, that he is MY Savior; and can say of God, that he is MY God, MY Father, MY Friend.

Now we do not hesitate to say, that this can never be done by a person, who has not seriously and fully consecrated himself to God. Not to consecrate ourselves to God, with a fixed purpose to do his will, is the same thing, as it seems to us, or at least is essentially the same thing, as deliberately to sin against God. Certain it is, that he, who is not willing to consecrate himself to God with a full purpose to conform to his designs, is willing to sin against him, when a favorable opportunity presents. It is not too much to say, that he is conscious, and must be conscious, at the present moment, of sinning against God in his heart. It is obviously impossible, that a person in this state of mind, if he has any proper conceptions of God’s law and of God’s character, should have a full assurance of being the subject of his acceptance and favor. No person, therefore, whatever other degrees of faith he may have, can enjoy full assurance of faith, who is not conscious, that he has in all things, and for all time to come, and with all the powers of perception and volition which he possesses, consecrated himself to God without reserve.

A belief of our acceptance with God, founded on the fact of our entire consecration to him, taken in connection with the declarations and promises of God’s Word, is such a belief, as “no one,” in the language of Dr. Hopkins, “would have reason to call in question.” The evidence in the case is not what might be called by a term, which numerous facts in ecclesiastical history render almost an indispensable one, “apparitional” evidence; that is to say, the evidence of outward appearances and manifestations, the evidence of sights and sounds, of dreams and visions, upon which so many rely; but upon which the Bible no where authorizes us to place reliance. Nor is it what may be called “emotional evidence,” the evidence of mere joy and sorrow, upon which so many others rely; but which we obviously cannot rely upon with entire confidence, because our joys and sorrows are very variable, and may arise from causes, which are not religious, although they are frequently mistaken for such. It is the evidence, the divine and infallible evidence, of God’s Spirit testifying through the principle of faith; and that faith, which exists distinctly and quietly in our consciousness, just as any other analogous state of mind does, resting upon God’s immutable Word. If we have given ourselves to God to be wholly and forever his, then we have no reason for doubting, (and the testimony of the Holy Spirit revealed in the act of faith is in accordance with the fact,) that we are the children of God, since we have God’s immutable word, that we are such. “Come ye out from among them, and be ye separate, and touch not the unclean thing; and I will receive you, and will be a father unto you, and ye shall be my sons and daughters, saith the Lord Almighty.” 2 Corinthians 6:17, 18.

— edited from The Life of Faith (1852) Part 1, Chapter 16.

To Teach All the World the Love of God

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

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Reflections on her conversion.

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But it is to be noticed further, that under the influences of her new life, which required her to go about doing good, she labored for the spiritual, as well as the temporal benefit of others, — for the good of their souls, as well as for that of their bodies. Before the day dawned, prayers ascended from her new heart of love; "So strong, almost insatiable, was my desire for communion with God, that I arose at four o’clock to pray.” Her greatest pleasure, and, comparatively speaking, her only pleasure, was to be alone with God, to pray to him; and to commune with him. She prayed for others as well as herself. She says, "I could have wished to teach all the world to love God." Her feelings were not inoperative. Her efforts corresponded, if not absolutely, which would perhaps have been impossible, yet in a very high degree, with her desires. She says that God made use of her as an instrument in gaining many souls to himself. Her labors however, were more successful in some cases than in others, as would naturally be expected. Speaking of one of the female relatives of her husband, who was very thoughtless on religious subjects, she remarks,

I wanted her to seek the religious state, and to practice prayer. Instead of complying with my request, she expressed the opinion that I was entirely destitute of all sense and wisdom, in thus depriving myself, when I had the means of enjoying them, of all the amusements of the age; but the Lord has since opened her eyes to make her despise them.

She relates among some other incidents,

There was a lady of rank, whom I sometimes visited. She took a particular liking to me, because, as she was pleased to say, my person and manners were agreeable to her. She said, that she observed in me something extraordinary and uncommon. My impression is, that my spiritual taste reacted upon my physical nature, and that the inward attraction of my soul appeared on my very countenance. And one reason of this opinion is, that a gentleman of fashion one day said to my husband's aunt, 'I saw the lady your niece, and it is very visible that she lives in the presence of God!' I was surprised at hearing this, as I did not suppose that a person so much addicted to the world, could have any very distinct idea of God's presence, even in the hearts of his own people, This lady, I say, began to be touched with the sense of God.

The circumstances were these. At a certain time she proposed to me to go with her to the theater. I refused to go, as, independently of my religious principles and feelings, I had never been in the habit of going to such places. The reason, which I first gave to her for not acceding to her proposition, was of a domestic nature, namely, that my husband's continual indisposition rendered it inconvenient and improper for me. Not satisfied with this, she continued to press me very earnestly to go with her. She said, that I ought not to be prevented by my husband's indispositions from taking some amusement; that the business of nursing the sick was more appropriate to older persons, and that I was too young to be thus confined to them. This led to more particular conversation. I gave her my reasons for being particularly attentive to my husband in his seasons of ill health. But this was not all. I told her that I entirely disapproved of theatrical amusements; and that I regarded them as especially inconsistent with the duties of a Christian woman. The lady was far more advanced in years than I was; but whether it was owing in part to this circumstance or not, my remarks made such an impression on her, that she never visited such places afterwards."

But our intercourse with each other did not end here. I was once in company with her and another lady, who was fond of talking, and had read the writings of the Christian Fathers. They had much conversation with each other in relation to God. The learned lady, as might be expected, talked very learnedly of him. I must confess that this sort of merely intellectual and speculative conversation, in relation to the Supreme Being, was not much to my taste. I scarcely said anything; my mind being drawn inwardly to silent and inward communion with the great and good Being, about whom my friends were speculating. They at length left me. The next day the lady, with whom I had previously had some conversation, came to see me. The Lord had touched her heart; she came as a penitent, as a seeker after religion; she could hold out in her opposition no longer. But I at once attributed this remarkable and sudden change, as I did not converse with her the day previous, to the conversation of our learned and speculative acquaintance. But she assured me it was otherwise. She said, it was not the other's conversation which affected her, but my silence; adding the remark, that my silence had something in it which penetrated to the bottom of her soul, and that she could not relish the other’s discourse. After that time we spoke to each other with open hearts on the great subject.

It was then that God left indelible impressions of grace on her soul; and she continued so athirst for him, that she could scarcely endure to converse on any other subject. That she might be wholly his, God deprived her of a most affectionate husband. He also visited her with other severe crosses. At the same time he poured his grace so abundantly into her heart that he soon conquered it, and became its sole master. After the death of her husband and the loss of most of her fortune, she went to reside on a small estate which yet remained to her, situated at the distance of about twelve miles from our house. She obtained my husband's consent to my going to pass a week with her, for the purpose of consoling her under her afflictions. The visit was attended with beneficial results. God was pleased to make me an instrument of spiritual good to her. I conversed much with her on religious subjects. She possessed knowledge, and was a woman of uncommon intellectual power; but being introduced into a world of new thought as well as new feeling, she was surprised at my expressing things to her so much above what is considered the ordinary range of woman's capacity. I should have been surprised at it myself, had I reflected on it. But it was God, who gave me the gift of perception and utterance, for her sake; he made me the instrument, diffusing a flood of grace into her soul, without regarding the unworthiness of the channel he was pleased to make use of. Since that time her soul has been the temple of the Holy Ghost, and our hearts have been indissolubly united.

— edited from The Life of Madam Guyon (1877) Volume 1, Chapter 8.

Faith Has Various Objects

Faith, in itself considered, is a very simple principle; but it possesses this peculiarity, a peculiarity which explains in part the great extent of its influence, that, on different occasions and under different circumstances, it may attach itself to any and every object; and consequently the sphere of its operations is very wide, perhaps we may say, as wide as the universe itself. And then there is this remark further to be made, that of all the various objects in this wide and unlimited sphere, it may make its selection, if we may so speak; that is to say, it may believe in many of them, or it may believe in a smaller number of them, or it may believe only in one of them; and it may also believe in that one, considered in one of its aspects and relations only, or as considered in many.

In religion, faith attaches itself to God as the primary object of belief. A belief in God, such a belief as issues in the soul’s renovation and salvation, involves undoubtedly the fact of other objects and other exercises of belief. It involves a belief in the mission of Jesus Christ. It involves a belief in the mission and operations of the Holy Ghost. God, nevertheless, is the primary object; the object to which all other belief tends, and in which it ultimately centers. But men may believe in God, in accordance with the remark just now made, considered in a part of his attributes and relations, or in the whole. They may believe in him, for instance, as the God merely of the natural creation; or they may believe in him as the God of events, the God of providence as well as of nature; or they may believe in him as the God of the Bible also.

— The Life of Faith, (1852) Part 1, Chapter 13.

Spiritual Joy

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

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Further reflections on Jean Guyon's conversion experience:

It is very obvious from her statements, that, in her first experience of the new life, she had great joy. Joy was a marked characteristic of it. But taught by the great inward Teacher, she was enabled to perceive from the first, that it would not be safe for her to estimate either the reality or the degree of her reli­gion by the amount, of her happiness.

It is true there is not only such a thing as joy, but such a thing as religious joy, or joy attendant on religion, and which, therefore, may properly be described, in the language of the Scriptures, as "joy in the Holy Ghost." But this is a very different thing from saying, that joy and religion are the same thing. Joy is not only not religion, but it does not always arise from religious causes. The grounds or causes of its origin are numerous, and sometimes very diverse. A new speculative truth, new views which are at variance with the truth, or even the pleasant intimations of a dream or vision, whether more or less remarkable, (to say nothing of physical causes, and of providential causes,— causes connected with the state of our health and with our situation in life,) may be followed by a pleasurable excitement of the emotional part of our nature, which may be mistaken for true religion.

Certain it is, however, that no joys can be regarded as really of a religious nature and as involving the fact of religion, which are not attended with repentance for sin and faith in Jesus Christ, with the renovation of the desires and with the subjection of the will.

The views of Madame Guyon on this subject were distinct and decided. She took the Savior for her example, who was not the less a religious man, because he was a man of "sorrows and acquainted with grief." She did not seek joy, but God. God first,  and what God sees fit to give, afterwards. She believed and knew, (so far as she thought it necessary to give attention to the subject of her own personal enjoyments at all,) if she gave herself to God wholly, without reserve, God would not be slow to take care of her happiness. 

— edited from The Life of Madam Guyon Volume 1, Chapter 7.

Not an Apparitional Expereince

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

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Further reflections on Jean Guyon's conversion experience:

There is a sort of inward experience, which is not only intellectual, but which, to indicate to what part of the intellect it belongs, may be described more specifically as "apparitional." It is generally found among uneducated persons, but not exclusively; and it is so frequent in its occurrence, as well as important in its results and relations, as to authorize some notice. It consists, for the most part, in sights seen and sounds heard, not excluding anything which is addressed to the intellect through the external  senses;  and can justly be regarded as especially liable to illusion. It is here, perhaps, more than anywhere else, although all such experience may be accounted for to a considerable extent on natural principles, that Satan "transforms himself into an angel of light."

So far as this form of experience is concerned, the kingdom of God was erected within her “without observation."  No sound was heard but that of the "still small voice," which speaks inwardly and effectually. There was no dream, no vision, no audible message. Her change was characterized, not by things seen, but by operations experienced; not by revelations imparted from without, and known only as existing without, but by affections inspired by the Holy Ghost from within, and constituting, from the time of their origin, a part of the inward consciousness.

— edited from The Life of Madame Guyon Volume 1, Chapter 7.

Human Moral Freedom

But what is to be said of human freedom and human responsibility?

If our dependence upon God is to be so strict, and our self-renunciation is to be so entire, is there good reason for regarding man as a being, either possessed of the elements, or responsible for the fact of moral accountability?

The simple truth is, that God never has violated; he never will violate; and while he remains what he is, he never can violate the moral freedom of his creatures. He gave them moral freedom; and the gift itself is the pledge of its protection. This freedom he is bound by the very elements of his nature to respect sacredly and to respect always. Being what he is, he is not so weak in principle as to violate his own implied promise; nor, considered as the superior, and man as the dependent, is he so poor in character as to be satisfied with a homage, which is not voluntarily rendered.

To be saved from sin and to be brought into moral harmony with the Divine Mind, without a recognition of moral freedom, would in our apprehension, be in the nature of a contradiction in terms; and would, in reality, be neither salvation to men nor honor to God. It is, therefore, left to men, and left to all moral beings throughout the universe, to decide, (and it is a question which is always and necessarily decided one way or the other,) whether they will be saved by the divine operation alone, or will attempt to save themselves by their own efforts. If they consent to be thus saved, in other words if they give themselves up to God to be saved in his own way and manner, then they live by the presence and the agency of the divine operation; or in the expression of the Scriptures by the indwelling of the Holy Ghost; but if they do not consent, they live, as Satan and all other rebellious spirits do, by the operation of unavailing and destructive efforts generated out of self. But where consent is given, so that the divine operation may be in harmony with the mental laws, moral freedom is unimpaired.

And this is especially true, when it is considered, that the act of consent is not the same thing as a cessation or annihilation of action; it is not a mere absence or negation of mental movement; but is a real or positive act on the part of the creature; one which may be specifically described as an act of harmonious concurrence and cooperation, with the divine act. And what is worthy of notice, and is especially important here, this consentient and concurrent act is repeated in all time to come; existing always in immediate consecution with the divine influence, moment by moment. It is in this position of the two minds, the Divine Mind, and created minds, (a position which reconciles the two otherwise antagonistical ideas of God’s gift and man’s free reception,) that grace is communicated. The idea of grace imparted or infused in any other manner, the idea of grace enforced, the idea of saving men against their own consent, involves an absurdity. Salvation is nothing else, and can be nothing else, than harmony with God. But harmony without consent would be an adjustment of conceptions not more free from absurdity, than that of love without affection.

— edited from The Life of Faith Part 1, Chapter 9.

The Hour of Prayer

It is the place and hour of prayer;

Oh, haste and meet together there.

Inspr'd with faith, relieved from care,

How sweet, how blest the hour of prayer!

Sweet hour of prayer!

At that dear hour distrust retires;

The earth withdraws its vain desires;

And God, the Holy Ghost, inspires

The flame of heaven's celestial fires;

Sweet hour of prayer!

'Tis then that truth shall guide thy ways;

'Tis then that prayer shall change to praise;

'Tis then that hearts and tongues shall raise

The song of heaven's unending days.

Sweet hour of prayer!

— Christ in the Soul (1872) LXXVI.

Receiving The Sacrament

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

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When she entered upon the twelfth year of her age, she proposed to partake of the sacrament of the Eucharist.

She acknowledges that for some time previous she had been remiss in religious duties. Some jealousies and disaffections, as is not unfrequently the case, had sprung up among the younger members of her father's family. A feeling of dissatisfaction and melancholy seems to have entered her mind. And as if weary of God, she gave up what little religious inclination and feeling she had, saying, "she was none the better for it," and wickedly implying in the remark, that the troubles connected with religion exceeded the benefit resulting from it. I think it would not be correct to say, that she had given up religion; but rather had given up many favorable feelings and many outward practices, which have a connection with religion. And this remark will perhaps be the better understood, when we say in explanation, that, although she had been interested in religion, it does not appear that she possessed those traits or qualities which really constitute it. Prompted, partly by example, and partly by serious impressions, she had sought it, but had not found it. Her religious interest, as we have already had occasion to notice, varied at different times. At one time, in particular, it seems to have been very great. She seems to have had convictions of sin; she had some desires to live in God's guidance and favor; she formed good resolutions; she had a degree of inward consolation. But when we examine these experiences closely, I think we shall find reason for saying, that such desires, convictions, and resolutions, which often lay near the surface of the mind without stirring very much its inward depths, were, in her case at least, the incidents and preparatives of religion, rather than religion itself. The great inward Teacher, the Holy Ghost, had not as yet dispossessed the natural life, and given a new life in Christ. She herself intimates that her religion was chiefly in appearance; and that self, and not the love of God, was at the bottom.

The suggestion to partake of the sacrament of the Supper, and thus by an outward act at least, to array herself more distinctly on the Lord's side, seems to have originated with her father. In order to bring about what he had near at heart, and which was in accordance with the principles of the church of which he was a member, he placed her again at the Ursuline Seminary. Her paternal half-sister, who still resided there, and who appears to have had some increased and leading responsibility as an instructress, pleased with the suggestion, but at the same time aware of her unfortunate state of mind, labored assiduously to give rise to better inward dispositions. The labors of this patient and affectionate sister, who knew what it was both to believe and to pray, and for whom religion seems to have had a charm above every thing else, were so effectual, that Jeanne Marie now thought, as she expresses it,  "of giving herself to God in good earnest."  The day at length arrived; she felt that the occasion was too important to be trifled with; she made an outward confession of her sins, with apparent sincerity and devoutness, and partook of the sacramental element for the first time with a considerable degree of satisfaction. But the result showed that the heart was not reached. The day of her redemption had not come. The season and its solemnity passed away, without leaving an effectual impression. The sleeping passions were again awaked. "My faults and failings," she says, "were soon repeated, and drew me off from the care and the duties of religion." She grew tall; her features began to develop themselves into that beauty which afterwards distinguished her. Her mother, pleased with her appearance, indulged her in dress.. The combined power of her personal and mental attractions were felt in the young and unreflecting attachments of persons of the other sex. The world resumed its influence, and Christ was in a great degree forgotten.

Such are the changes which often take place in the early history of religious experience. To-day there are serious thoughts, awakened and quickened feelings, and good resolutions; everything wears a propitious aspect. To-morrow, purposes are abandoned, feelings vanish; and the reality of the world takes the place of the anticipations of religion. Today the hearts of mothers and sisters, and of other friends, who have labored long and prayed earnestly for the salvation of those who are dear to them, are cheered and gladdened. To-morrow they find the solicitations to pleasure prevailing over the exhortations to virtue; and those who had been serious and humble for a time, returning again to the world. But it is often the case, that these alternations of feeling, which it is not easy always to explain, have an important connection, under the administration of a higher and divine providence, with the most favorable results.

They may, in many cases, be regarded as constituting a necessary part of that inward training, which the soul must pass through, before it reaches the position of true submission and of permanent love. They show us the great strength of that attachment which binds us to attractions which perish, the things of time and sense. They leave a deep impression of the forbearance and long-suffering of God. They teach the necessity of the special and powerful operations of divine grace, without which the heart, naturally alienated from all attachment to the true object of its love, would perish in its worldly idolatry.

— edited from The Life of Madam Guyon Volume 1, Chapter 2.

Faith is the Source of All True Feeling

Faith is the source, the parent of all true feeling. And in saying this, we ought to add, that we use the term feeling in a general sense; meaning by it not merely the emotions, to which it is sometimes limited, but those other modifications of our sensibilities, which we include under the denomination of the desires and affections.

And it is proper to say here, that faith is the source, the parent of all true feeling and affection in the natural sense, as well as in the religious sense. Certain it is, that this statement admits of an easy and a satisfactory illustration in the case of the affection of love. It requires no proof to sustain the assertion, that natural love is based upon natural faith. If we have entire confidence in another, if we believe him to be amiable and pure in feeling, and upright in principle, it is the natural result of such confidence, that we shall love him. And on the other hand, it will be very difficult, and I think we may say, it will be found naturally impossible for a person to love another, (except, perhaps, with that lower form of love, which is synonymous with pity or sympathy,) in whom he has no faith. And the same confidence, the same faith, which inspires the affection of love in the first instance, gives it permanency in time to come. The one perpetuates itself in company with the other. Suggestions may arise, and temptations may assail us, but love will live, if confidence does not perish. But how soon does our love to a person, to whom we were once devotedly attached, cease, when our faith in him ceases! No sooner is the confidence, which we reposed in his amiability, in his truth and honor, and other estimable qualities, taken away; in other words, no sooner is our faith in the existence of these traits taken away, than the love, which rested upon it, falls at once to the ground.

The law of the religious affections is the same. They always imply the antecedent existence of faith. Religious faith, sustained by the Holy Spirit, but operating in a manner entirely analogous to the operations of natural faith, is undoubtedly the true basis of religious love. Without the key of faith the foundation of divine love, which refreshes and gives beauty to the whole soul, would never be opened within us. It would be impossible; because it would obviously be a result, not only without reason, but against reason. It is because we believe or have faith in God as just, benevolent and holy, as possessed of every possible perfection calculated to attract and secure our love, that we love him.

— from The Life of Faith (1852) Part 1, Chapter 6.

Entering Into Rest

It is very obvious, that this state of mind — union with God — cannot be fully understood, except in connection with inward experience. In the language of the author of the Life of Sir Henry Vane, "Divine life must have divine words; words which the Holy Ghost teacheth, to give its own character." [Life of Sir Henry Vane, anonymous, printed in 1662.] Therefore we will not attempt to pursue the topic any further than to say, that the state of union with God, when it is the subject of distinct consciousness, constitutes, without being necessarily characterized by revelations or raptures, the soul's spiritual festival, a season of special interior blessedness, a foretaste of heaven. The mind, unaffected by worldly vicissitudes and the strifes and oppositions of men, reposes deeply in a state of happy submission and quietude, in accordance with the expressions in the Epistle to the Hebrews, that those who believe, ENTER INTO REST.

Without Resistance in the Hands of God

The soul, that has reached the center of its Nothing, (that is, is absolutely and forever nothing relatively to self,)  remains without resistance in the hands of God, like clay in the hands of the potter. It has become perfectly pliable and impressible to the divine touch. Such a soul is peculiarly the subject of that ennobling form of prayer, which is called in certain writers the Receptive or Passive Prayer; that is to say, a prayer which is inspired rather than self-originated, which is given, rather than self-produced. Entirely divested of those habits of self-activity, which are so common, and which, in consequence of preceding or of perplexing the operations of the Holy Spirit, are so injurious, the soul remains quiet and childlike in the divine presence. Like the placid lake, that receives and reflects to the eye of the beholder the image of trees and flowers on its banks, returning image for image, without a stem disarranged, or a petal broken; so in all the hidden aspirations which it constantly sends forth, it passively and almost unconsciously receives and reflects the image of God; an image, which is not distorted by the mixture of self-originated acts, nor marred by the disturbing power of internal agitation. God loves to leave the impress of his blessed image on the self-annihilated soul. And the prayer which it breathes, as it is not self-moved, but moves as it is moved upon, may truly be regarded as the praying breath of the Holy Spirit, who always dwells in the soul that knows itself no more.

We may see, therefore, how strong must be the position of the Divine Mind, (the DEUS AGENS INTER, as it has been expressed in the Latin,) in the self-annihilated soul. A soul, in the language of Michael de Molinos, "desiring as if it did not desire; willing as if it did not will; understanding as if it did not understand; thinking as if it did not think, without inclining to any thing; [that is, independently of the will of God;] embracing equally contempts and honors, benefits and corrections. Oh, what a happy soul is this, which is thus dead and annihilated. It lives no longer in itself, because God lives in it. And now it may most truly be said of it, that it is a renewed Phœnix, because it is changed, spiritualized, and. transformed into the divine image."

And again, he says,

We seek ourselves every time we get out of our Nothing; and, therefore, we never get to quiet and perfect contemplation. Creep in, as far as ever thou canst, into the truth of thy Nothing; and then nothing will disquiet thee; nay, thou wilt be humble and ashamed, losing openly thy own reputation and esteem.

Oh, what a strong bulwark wilt thou find of that Nothing! Who can ever afflict thee, if thou dost once retire into that fortress! Because the soul, which is despised by itself, and in its own knowledge is nothing, is not capable of receiving grievance or injury from any body. The soul, which keeps within its Nothingness, is internally silent, lives resigned in any torment whatsoever, by thinking it less than it doth deserve; is free from abundance of imperfections, and becomes commander of great virtues. While the soul keeps still and quiet in its Nothingness,  THE LORD DRAWS HIS OWN  IMAGE AND LIKENESS  IN  IT, WITHOUT ANY THING TO HINDER IT.

— edited from The Interior or Hidden Life (2nd edition, 1844) Part 3, Chapter 12.

EDITOR'S NOTE: Those who might be interested in further exploration of the teachings of Miguel de Molinos will find information and an online copy of the Spiritual Guide at the Christian Classics Ethereal Library here: Miguel de Molinos.

Holiness is One in Nature, But Diverse in Expression

It is one of the characteristics of a holy life, when it is not merely incipient but has become a nature, that, with the single exception of that, which, in being sin, is the opposite of itself, it easily harmonizes and sympathizes with what now is. In other words, while the inward fountain of holy love at the heart is always the same, and always full, the streams which flow from it, repelled by opposition, or attracted by sympathy, take their course variously, in the diversified channels of Providence.

Accordingly, harmonizing with the present objects of his thoughts and affections, the holy man is one in nature, but diversified in manifestation. He "weeps with those who weep, and rejoices with those who rejoice." Under the unerring impulses of the life which is from God, he becomes "all things to all men," but without losing the identity of his character as one united with God, and as being the "temple of the Holy Ghost." Instructed by the teachings of love, which is the best of all teachers, he is a man of smiles or of tears, of action or of rest. He rests when it is the time to rest, because rest in its time is better than toil out of time; but he labors when Providence calls him to labor, and love makes his labor sweet. He has a heart for humanity, and a heart for nature. More than a mere amateur of the outward world, he loves the rocks and the mountains for their own beauty and sublimity, and for the God that dwells in them. His heart warms and melts in the summer sunshine; but the thunder is his also, and the lightning. Nothing is out of place, because place is subordinated to the eternity and ubiquity of the life within. He is a citizen of his country, and serves her well, with­out losing the evidence of his citizenship in heaven; a subject of the powers that are ordained of God, without ceasing to be the subject of Him who has ordained them. He sings praises with the devoted Christian, and his heart yearns and melts over the impenitent sinner. In his simplicity, he is the companion of children; and in his wisdom, the counselor of age. He can sit at meat with the "publican and sinner," or receive the  hospitality of the unhumbled Pharisee; and, in both cases, he unites the proprieties of love with the faithfulness of duty.

And all this, which seems to imply contradiction, and to require effort, is what it is, in all its ease and all its promptness, because it is not the result of worldly calculation, but the infallible working of a divine nature.

— edited from A Treatise on Divine Union (1851) Part 8, Chapter 9.

Ignorant, Yet Full of Wisdom

The Christian is ignorant, and feels himself to be so, and yet is full of divine wisdom. He is ignorant, comparatively speaking, because there are many things, the knowledge of which is not profitable, and which, therefore, he does not  seek. He  cannot seek knowledge in his own will any  more than he can seek anything else. He can say with the  utmost  sincerity, "I know nothing;" because all human knowledge, as compared with divine, is, and must  be, utter ignorance. And yet, being a "son of God,"  and being "led by the Holy Spirit," he feels that he may and will possess all that knowledge which will be necessary for him. If he knows but little, he knows enough; and if he has no knowledge from himself, he still has God for a teacher.

— edited from A Treatise on Divine Union (1851) Part 8, Chapter 8.

Inward Recollection Helps Us to Know the Truth

Inward Recollection helps us to know the truth, especially moral truth. The supreme desire of him, who has fully given his heart to God, is, not merely that he may be happy and thus please himself, but that he may KNOW and DO God's will. Knowledge, therefore, (we do not mean all kinds of knowledge, but particularly that which has relation to the divine will,) is obviously of the greatest consequence. And those will know most, who are the most recollected. The truth opens itself to the mind, that faithfully perseveres in the state of inward recollection, with remarkable clearness. And the reason, in part, is, because the mind, in a religiously recollected state, ceases to be agitated by the passions.

The light of God shines as the sun at noon day; but our passions, like so many thick clouds opposed to it, are the reason that we cannot perceive it. Love, hatred, fear, hope, grief, joy, and other vicious passions filling our soul, blind it in such a manner that it sees nothing but what is sensible and suitable to it;  refusing all that is contrary to its own inclinations and being thus filled with itself, it is not capable of receiving the light of God. — Bourignon's Light in Darkness, p. 14.

Now there can be no question, that Inward Recollection secures the soul in a most remarkable degree, from inordinate passions. Such passions cannot well flourish, with the eye of God distinctly looking upon them. And accordingly, under such circumstances, the illuminative suggestions of the Holy Spirit readily enter the mind, and operate in it, and reveal the divine will. So that he, who walks in recollection, may reasonably expect to walk in the light of true knowledge and of a divine guidance.

And not only this, Inward Recollection tends to concentrate, and consequently to strengthen very much the action of the intellectual powers.  It  does this, in part, and indirectly, by disburdening the mind of those wandering thoughts and unnecessary cares and excitements, which, with scarcely any exception, overrun the minds of those who do not live in a recollected state.

— edited from The Interior or Hidden Life (2nd Edition, 1844) Part 3, Chapter 7.

The Mystery of the New Birth

"Marvel not, that I said unto thee, ye must be born again. The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the  sound thereof, but canst not tell, whence it cometh and whither it goeth. So is every one, that is born of the Spirit."  John iii. 7, 8.

I hear the mountain wind, but see it not;
Its mournful sigh startles my mind's repose;
I listen; but it passes quick as thought;
I know not whence it comes, nor where it goes.
'Tis thus with those, who of the Spirit are born,
A change comes o'er them; how they cannot say.
They wake, as from the darkness wakes the morn,
And mental night is changed to mental day.
'Tis God's mysterious work. 'Tis He can find,
Deep searching, and 'tis He can touch
The deep and hidden spring that rules the mind,
And change its tendencies, and make it such,
Redeemed, restored, as it was not before.
We know that 'tis God's work; but we can know no more.

— American Cottage Life (1850) XXXVII.