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.

Labor in Trust

The labor of the holy man ceases to be labor, in the ordinary sense of that term, not only for the reasons which have been mentioned, but because his humble trust in God actually supplies the place, in many cases, of positive effort. In other words, God does now reward him by actually sharing and lightening the burden which is upon him. God, whose happiness consists in the exercise of love, always delights to do the work of his people, when the circumstances are such as to allow him to do it. Man's first work, and, as compared with others, almost his only work, is to return from his sins, and to enter into union with his Maker. From that moment he not only may, but he ought to, give up all anxiety. God will never desert him. God will hold up and inspirit his weary arm. Even if the body labors, the anxieties of the spirit should cease.

See the father of a numerous family.  Day after day he toils without ceasing. Their food, their clothing, their morals, their education, their health, all successively occupy his thoughts, fill him with anxiety, and give him no rest. He is burdened and borne down to the dust, because he attempts to bear the burden alone. If he were a man of perfect faith, he would labor less; and at the same time with greatly improved results. His faith would honor God, and would secure the fulfillment of the promises. It would make God present, because it would necessarily secure the cooperation of his loving nature. And this is not all. It would react upon his own character; — giving clearness to truth, submission in sorrow, strength in temptation, patience under rebuke, and love at all times. So that, under the purifying power of a higher trust, an influence would emanate from his own character. His silence would speak. And the inaction of God, if we may so express it, (that is to say, the silent and quiet operation of God in the soul,) would do more  than the activity of the creature.

Certainly, in  view of such considerations as these, we have great reason for saying, if we cannot safely say anything more, that the labor of the man of God is a very different thing from the labor of the man of the world. It is exempt, at least, from all anxiety. And hence that calmness, which is seated on his brow. No expression of impatience, no scowl of hatred, no frown of anger; but a constant cheerfulness, which shows that the principles of faith and love at the centre make all things easy. It is one of the signs, therefore, of the truly holy man, that he is happy in his work; so much so, that under the existing circumstances, he could not be equally happy without work. So that, virtually, his work is his recreation; his labor is his play.

— edited from A Treatise on Divine Union (1851) Part 8, Chapter 7.

The Light Shines of Itself

True holiness acts and influences by its innate tendencies. It merely wants opportunities of action, and not appliances and instigations to action. It is not the language of Scripture, make thy light shine, but let thy light shine. In partially sanctified hearts, where the light is comparatively small, there is a disposition, which, however, in itself considered, is not to be blamed, to set the light off to the best advantage, to place it in favorable positions, to increase it by concentrating it in and reflecting it abroad on the multitude, through the instrumentality of persons of "good reputation." This is laudable under the circumstances. But if the light were full and bright at the center, there would not be need of this additional labor at the circumference. And the reason of this remark is, that it is the nature of holiness to diffuse itself, if there are no obstacles in the way. It cannot conceal itself, if it would. The first thing is its existence; the next is, to let it shine; — not to hide it, but to let it be; — stationed as it is by the wisdom of a heavenly position as well as bright by a heavenly radiance.

The light of Jesus Christ shone brightly long before he commenced his public apostolic life. It shone, because brightness was in his nature; and, therefore, it was his nature to shine. When he was very young, it was said of him, by lips which repeated it to others, that there is a lad in the town of Nazareth, living in a poor and retired family, who has God with him.  His  candle first diffused its light in a very small circle; but within the limits of that circle it shone freely and clearly in the rays of sincere and peaceable dispositions. He was not a holy man, but a holy boy; and, being such, he was known and felt to be such. As he grew older, working day by day at the trade of a carpenter, the same unobtrusive sincerity, the same forbearance and love, attended by perfect faith in his heavenly Father, attracted attention in a sphere somewhat enlarged, and drew to him some loving hearts that were affected by the innate power of holiness. Thus, though he came, as it were, silently, without effort and without observation, the light shone from him by its own nature; a light gentle but pure; penetrating quietly, but surely, in every direction; until it was whispered from the lips of the faithful, throughout Palestine, that a holy one had come. There was, indeed, a mystery resting upon him and his character, because he was a man unannounced, unknown; but still he was a real and divine presence, though indistinctly felt  and appreciated, even before he appeared publicly and authoritatively as the messenger of God. His light shone of itself.

— edited from A Treatise on Divine Union (1851) Part 8, Chapter 7.

Labor Not in Vain

Another reason that the labor of the holy man ceases to be labor, is this; he knows that he will be prospered in what he does; in other words, that his "labor is not in vain in the Lord." There are many promises to this effect. But this is not all. He knows that, when God imposes on his people something to be done, it is not merely to secure a particular outward result, but also, and sometimes chiefly, for the purpose of training and disciplining the inward dispositions. And if he fails to do the particular thing which is required to be done, still, if the effort has resulted in the trial and strengthening of his faith and obedience, he has his reward. He is sure of success in one way or the other. This imparts a joyousness of spirit, which gives a new character to his toil. Labor, which is enlivened by the joy of anticipated fruition, is rendered by that circumstance so delightful, that it virtually ceases to be labor.

— edited from A Treatise on Divine Union (1851) Part 8, Chapter 7.

Labor Inspired by Love

Another reason why the labor of the holy man, whose soul is in union with God, ceases to be labor in the ordinary sense of that term, is, that his labor is inspired by love. The labor of those who do everything from love, is a very different thing from the labor of those who act exclusively or chiefly from the impulse of conscience and the forced efforts of the will. The single circumstance of labor's being originated with or without the inspiration of the heart, makes all possible difference. The labor of the partially sanctified man, who stirs himself to action by reasonings and reflections, and by the efforts of the will, is the recreation, the happiness of the holy man. The holy man works without knowing that he works; because love converts what would otherwise be work into the spontaneous activity of a pleased and joyous nature. In doing what he loves to do, he labors just as much as the birds do when they fly in the air and sing; and just as much as the angels do, whose nature it is to fulfill the commands of their heavenly Father.

In  saying, therefore, that the holy soul rests from labor, we do not mean that it rests from action; but that its action is so easy and natural, so harmonious at the same time with the desires of the soul and with the arrangements of Providence, that it is exempt from the attributes of pain and distastefulness which are commonly associated with labor.

— edited from A Treatise on Divine Union (1851) Part 8, Chapter 7.

Labor Empowered by God

One reason that the labor of the truly holy man ceases to be labor, in the ordinary sense of that term, is, that there is a divine power working in him. The Infinite Mind is necessarily the life of the created and finite mind, so long as sin does not separate them from each other. Man is the instrument, in which and through which God works.

The Savior himself said, "I can of myself do nothing." The wonderful power which was manifested in him, in his incarnate state, had its source in his Father, from whom, in the exercise of faith, he continually drew divine strength. [See Acts, Ch. 1:3, and other passages of similar import.] The language of Paul and of other holy men, who derived their strength from God through Christ, is, "I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me." Philipp. 4: 13.

There is an inward conviction, a consciousness felt in the depths of the pious man's spiritual nature, that virtue has a necessary alliance with power, and that the good man never, can be deserted. God, who inspires this remarkable conviction, is pledged, both by nature and by promise, to see it realized. And thus the man of God, who feels this increased strength, finds that easy which would otherwise be hard to him.

— edited from A Treatise on Divine Union (1851) Part 8, Chapter 7.

Rest From Labor

The soul which is fully the Lord's may be said also to rest from labor.

This depends in part, however, upon the meaning which we attach to the term labor. As the term is commonly understood, it implies some degree, more or less according to the circumstances, of forethought and calculation, strivings of the will, and physical effort. But this is not all. It implies, also, not only effort, but pain. There is something unpleasant in it. In this view of the import of the term, God does not labor; angels do not labor; nor do glorified saints. There is obviously no such thing as labor of this sort in heaven. There is life; there is activity; everything is done which ought to be done; but all labor which involves pain ceases.

And, to a considerable extent, these views are true of the holy man in the present life. He does not cease to be active, and to do what the providence of God calls him to do; on the contrary, cooperating with God in the great work of redemption, he finds and knows no idle moments; but still, the work which he does, ceases so far to possess the ordinary attributes of labor, that he may be said, in a certain sense, to cease from labor.

It will be kept in mind by the reader, that this is not said of the sinful man, nor of the partially sanctified man, but of the man whose soul, freed from the separations of self, has passed into a state of entire union with God. Undoubtedly the rest, which is experienced even by such an one, is not so perfect, in consequence of the imperfections and hindrances of the body, as it will be hereafter; but still, it is so real and great, and besides, so naturally results from the principles involved in holy living, that it deserves to be noticed.

— edited from A Treatise on Divine Union (1851) Part 8, Chapter 7.

When Our Ministries Do Not Bear Fruit

There are few situations more trying than those in which we find our labors for the spiritual good of others fruitless. It requires strong faith, especially in ministers of the Gospel, not to find the yoke of God's providence, which binds us to such a situation, a heavy one. Nevertheless it is possible, that the duty which we owe to our heavenly Father, requires us to stay there with the same submission and the same grateful confidence, which reconcile us to other trying circumstances.

— Religious Maxims (1846) CLXXVI.

Finding God in Our Daily Work

It is obvious from the Scriptures, that we are required to be "diligent in business;" "whatever our hand findeth to do, to do it with our might;" "to provide for our own households;" and undoubtedly every person must, on Christian principles, regularly and conscientiously, accomplish the appropriate work of his hands, whatever it may be.

But here also, as in every thing else, we must recognize the presence and agency of God. We must do whatever God requires us to do; and must recognize him alike in the fulfillment and the disappointment of our efforts. We must not think too much of the inferior instrumentality of the rain and the sunshine; of the turning of the furrow and of the planting of the seed, although these are important in their place; but placing these and all other secondary acts and causes comparatively under our feet, must endeavor to gain a higher position, and to stand in nearer proximity to the Primitive Agency. "He that observeth the wind shall not sow; and he, that regardeth the clouds, shall not reap." God works in connection with second causes; but not in dependence on them. They are his servants, and not his masters; a sort of dumb expositors of his purposes and will, but in no sense, though blind man seldom looks above them, the originating and effective cause. "In the morning sow thy seed, and in the evening withhold not thy hand; for thou knowest not whether shall prosper, either this or that, or whether they both shall be alike good." [Ecclesiastes, 11: 4, 6.] Blessed is the man, who, as he goes about his daily business, tending his flocks with Abraham, or ploughing his fields with Elisha, can see God in trees and flowers and running brooks, in hills and valleys and mountains, in clouds and in sunshine; and can connect him, as an intelligible and effective agency, with everything that has relation to the time and the place, the nature and the results of his labors.

— edited from The Interior of Hidden Life (1844) Chapter 10.