A Cutting Off

"And if thy right eye offend thee, PLUCK IT OUT,  and cast it from thee; for it is profitable for thee that one of thy members should perish and not that thy whole body should be cast into hell. And if thy right hand offend thee, CUT IT OFF, and cast it from thee; for it is profitable for thee that one of thy members should perish, and not that thy whole body should be cast into hell." — Matt. 5: 29, 30.

The natural life... has a close connection with the natural desires. Just so far as such desires are inordinate in their action, they are the result of unsanctified nature, and not of the Spirit of God. The root, however, the original and fruitful source of that state of things in the natural heart, which is conveniently denominated the Natural Life, is the inordinate action of the principle of SELF-LOVE; denominated, in a single term, selfishness. The pernicious influence from this source, with the exception of what has become sanctified by the Spirit of God, reaches and corrupts every thing. Hence the importance of the process of excision. It is not only important, but indispensably necessary, that this evil influence should be met and destroyed wherever it exists. A process often exceedingly painful; but inevitable to him, who would be relieved from his false position, and put in harmony with God. There must be a CUTTING OFF, and a renewed and repeated CUTTING OFF, till the tree of Self, despoiled of its branches and foliage, and thus deprived of the nourishment of the rain, the sun, and the atmosphere, dies down to its very root; giving place, in its destruction, to the sweet bloom of the tree of life.

A life of practical holiness depends essentially upon two things: FIRST, upon an entire consecration of ourselves, body and spirit, to the Lord; and SECOND, upon a belief that this consecration is accepted. We must, in the first place, offer up our whole being as a sacrifice to the Lord, laying all upon his altar. But we should remember, it is laid there, in order that the natural life may be consumed, and that there may be a resurrection of the true spiritual life from its ashes. He, therefore, who has consecrated himself to God, must expect that the truth of the consecration will be tested by the severity of an interior crucifixion, which is the death of nature, but in the end present and everlasting life. It is not till the flame has come upon us, and we have passed through the fire of the inward crucifixion, which consumes the rottenness and the hay and stubble of the old life of nature, that we can speak, in a higher sense, of the new life; and say, CHRIST LIVETH IN ME.

— edited from The Interior or Hidden Life (1844) Part 2, Chapter 10.

Dying and Rising With Chirst

Without mentioning other devout men, we may properly repeat here, as being in harmony with some of the views hitherto given, the expressions of the learned and venerable John Arndt, whose name is deservedly dear to the Christian world. "If thou believest,” he says, "that Christ was crucified for the sins of the world, thou must with him be crucified to the same. If thou refusest  to comply with this, thou canst not be a living member of Christ, nor be united with him by faith. If thou believest that Christ is risen from the dead, it is thy duty to rise spiritually with Him. In a word, the birth, cross, passion, death, resurrection and ascension of Christ, must, after a spiritual manner, be transacted in thee." And again he remarks in another place: — "Let us renounce wholly our own strength, our own wisdom, our own will and self-love, that, being thus resigned to God alone, we may suffer his power freely to work in us, so that nothing may, in the least, oppose the will and operations of the Lord."

I am aware that this is a hard doctrine to the natural heart. It strikes heavily upon that feeling of self-confidence, which is one of the evil fruits of our fallen condition. But, as it respects myself, if I may be allowed in humility of spirit to refer to my own feelings, it is a doctrine which is inexpressibly dear to me. I have been taught for many years, and by painful experience, that I can place no confidence in my own thoughts, feelings, or purposes. In none of these respects can I be my own keeper. On the contrary, I have seen, with the greatest clearness, that to be left to myself, either in these respects or in anything else, is always to be left in sin. And so great has been my anguish of spirit, in view of my entire inability to guide myself aright, that I could only pray that I might be struck out of existence and be annihilated, or that God would return and keep that which I could not keep myself. 

IF THOU, O GOD, WILT MAKE MY SPIRIT FREE.

If thou, O God, wilt make my spirit free,

Then will that darkened soul be free indeed;

I cannot break my bonds, apart from thee;

Without thy help I bow, and serve, and bleed.

Arise, O Lord, and in thy matchless strength,

Asunder rend the links my heart that bind,

And liberate, and raise, and save at length

My long enthralled and subjugated mind.

And then, with strength and beauty in her wings,

My quickened soul shall take an upward flight,

And in thy blissful presence, King of kings,

Rejoice  in liberty, and life, and light,

In renovated power and conscious truth,

In faith and cheerful hope, in love and endless youth.

— edited from A Treatise on Divine Union (1851) Part 7, Chapter 3.

The Death and Resurrection of the Human Will

Properly speaking, or perhaps we should rather say, in this case, psychologically speaking, man's will can never die. A will is essential to man's nature, as it is to the nature of every moral being. Man, without a will, ceases to be man.

When, therefore, in examining the topics connected with religious experience, we speak of the death of the human will, we mean the human will considered in its action and its tendency to action, out of the divine order. It is the human will divergent, —  resting in the origin of its movement on the limited and depraved basis of personal interest,  and out of harmony with the will of God.

In the sense which has just been given, the human will, before it can have a higher and divine life, not only may die, but must die. Its death is not only possible but necessary. In its present life, if we may so express it, it has its principle of movement in motives which God cannot respect and approve; but, on the contrary, he disapproves and condemns them as inconsistent with the highest good of the universe. From such a will he is necessarily excluded.

It is impossible, therefore, that there should be any mitigation of its sentence; any pity or compromise whatever with its natural life. The hand of God himself, through the working of his unerring providences, nails it to the cross. It may exhibit much resistance; it may experience a painful and lingering death; with the nails driven through its hands and feet, it may plead that its bones may not be broken, and that its side may not be pierced; but no attention can, or ought to be given to its supplications.

The death of the will (that is to say, its death to the selfishness of nature) is the antecedent of its resurrection to holiness. In its resurrection love takes the place of selfishness. The will can no more be born into its new and divine life, and expand and flourish in its new beauty and maturity of love, before the extinction and death of its natural life of selfishness, than the spiritual body of the resurrection, adorned with immortal beauty, can come into existence before the death of the natural body. "That which thou sowest," says the apostle Paul, speaking of wheat and other grains, "is not quickened except it die." "So also," he adds, "is the resurrection of the dead. It is sown in corruption, it is raised in incorruption. It is sown in dishonor, it is raised in glory. It is sown a natural body, it is raised a spiritual body."

And these expressions, applied to the resurrection of the body, are applicable to the death and resurrection of the will. If it dies to all that is the opposite of God, it is made alive to all that has God in it. Dishonored and corrupted in its selfish nature, it perishes and is thrown lifeless into its burial place, until the spirit of God, brooding over and operating in its ruins, brings life out of death, and glory out of shame.

— edited from A Treatise on Divine Union (1851) Part 5, Chapter 4.

Death to Self

Look not for a, true living strength,
In the life of the ME and the I,
With nothing to love but its self-hood,
And fearing to suffer and die.
As thou seekest the fruit
From the seed-planted grain,
Seek life that is living,
From life that is slain.

Then hasten to give it its death-blow,
By nailing the I to the Cross;
And thou shalt find infinite treasure,
In what seemeth nothing but loss;
For where, if the seed
Is not laid in the ground,
Shall the germ of the new
Resurrection be found.

The soul is the Lord's little garden,
The I is the seed that is there;
And He watches it, While it is dying,
And hath joy in the fruits it doth bear.
In the seed that is buried,
Is hidden the power
Of the life-birth immortal,
Of fruit and of flower.

'Tis hidden, and yet it is true;
'Tis  mystic, and yet it is plain;
A lesson, which none ever knew,
But souls that are inwardly slain;
That God, from thy death,
By His Spirit shall call
The life ever-living,
The life, ALL IN ALL.

— Christ in the Soul (1872)