Pure Love vs. Selfish Love (Rewritten).

Up to now, we tried to show that evangelical holiness is essentially the same thing as perfect love. 

Scripture makes this plain in the great commandment: “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and your neighbor as yourself.” The moment a person begins to love, holiness begins. But holiness is complete only when love has fully overcome selfishness — when a person loves with the whole heart.

Faith, without question, comes before love. Whether we look at this biblically or psychologically, faith is the foundation and the necessary starting point. But even so, Scripture gives love the highest honor, calling it “the fulfillment of the law.” So the most important question we can ask — whether we truly belong to God and are genuinely holy — ultimately comes down to this: Are we perfected in love?

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.

A Selfish Being

If a man’s love centres in himself as the highest or supreme object of his affections, which it must do, if it does not centre in some other being, he is of course a selfish being; and as such he cannot be regarded as a truly holy being. If he thinks for himself, acts for himself, lives for himself, as he must do if he himself be the highest object of love, it must be sufficiently obvious without any comment upon it, that he cannot be otherwise than selfish, and cannot be otherwise than unholy. 

All such love, which thus centres in ourselves, is wrong, and is not acceptable in the sight of God; because it is not proportioned to its object, and is inordinate.

It may be proper to add this remark here, that pure love or holy love is that love which is precisely appropriate to the object; being such, neither more nor less, as the object is precisely entitled to, so far as we are capable of understanding what the object is.

If our love centres in creatures inferior to God, and becomes supreme in them, it is necessarily selfish; as really so, though not so obviously so at first sight, as if it centered in ourselves. It is entirely obvious, that the motive for loving inferior beings in the highest degree, for loving them supremely, cannot be founded in their own characters. It is not a love, to which they are justly entitled. It is not right to love them in this manner. 

And if the motive of this love is not founded in their characters, and is, therefore, not based upon moral rectitude, it is founded, and must necessarily be so, in some selfish modification of our own feelings. The only active principle in man, which is antagonistical to rectitude, is selfishness in some of its modifications. Whenever a moral being deviates from the right, in any and all cases where he has a perception of what the right is, it will be found to be through the influence of self. In all such cases, if a being is loved otherwise than it ought to be, and is therefore loved wrongly, selfishness will always be found at the bottom. It will sometimes be very secret and almost hidden; but it will always be there.

— The Life of Faith, Part 2, Chapter 4.

When Thy Pure Fires Prevail

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

---

Such are the expressions, in which she speaks of the remarkable change which thus passed upon her spirit, — an event in her life which opened new views, originated new feelings, instituted new relations, and gave new strength. Too important in itself and its relations to be forgotten under any circumstances, we find her often recurring to it with those confiding, affectionate and grateful sentiments, which it was naturally calculated to inspire.

One of her religious poems, which Cowper has translated, expresses well the feelings which we may suppose to have existed in her at this time.

"All are indebted much to Thee,

But I far more than all;

From many a deadly snare set free,

And raised from many a fall.

Overwhelm me, from above,

Daily with thy boundless love.

What bonds of gratitude I feel,

No language can declare;

Beneath the oppressive weight I reel,

'Tis more than I can bear;

When shall I that blessing prove,

To return Thee love for love?

Spirit of Charity! Dispense

Thy grace to every heart;

Expel all other spirits thence

Drive self from every part.

Charity divine! Draw nigh;

Break the chains in which we lie.

All selfish souls, whate'er they feign,

Have still a slavish lot;

They boast of liberty in vain,

Of love, and feel it not.

He, whose bosom glows with thee,

He, and he alone, is free.

Oh blessedness, all bliss above,

When thy pure fires prevail!

LOVE only teaches what is love;

All other lessons fail;

We learn its name, but not its powers,

Experience only makes it ours.

— edited from The Life of Madam Guyon Volume 1, Chapter 6.

Extinction of the Power of Evil Habits

The state of interior nothingness is characterized, further, by the extinction of the power of antecedent evil habits. A person may be sanctified to God, his heart may be pure in the divine sight, and still there may be a constant struggle on the part of the "old man" or the "old nature," to regain possession. It is difficult to explain this, viz. that a truly holy heart may still have a struggle antagonistical to sin, and oftentimes a fearful struggle; but it is probably owing, in addition to the direct temptations of Satan, to the tremendous power of antecedent evil habits. The principle of self-love for instance, may by divine grace be redeemed from its selfish attitude, and may be brought to its true subjective position and become a holy principle; and yet in consequence of its previous habits of inordinate exercise, there may be a strong tendency, which requires constant resistance, to resume its former position of irregularity and sin. This tendency is not, properly speaking, in the principle itself; but is forced upon it exteriorly, if we may so express it, by the law of habit; and therefore although it is extremely dangerous, it does not appear to be necessarily sinful. The idea may here perhaps be illustrated in the case of the reformed inebriate. He has refrained from drinking; but the influence of the antecedent law of habit is still felt in his system. He is no longer guilty of the sin of drinking; but his liability to fall into this sin is greatly increased by his antecedent evil habit. There is, undoubtedly, something mysterious in this: but it seems, nevertheless, to be true. He feels that, in consequence of his former evil habits, the enemy is near at hand and in great power; that his danger is thereby increased, and that he must always be in the attitude of watchfulness and of resistance. Something like this is the case with those, who have just entered into that state where they can say, they "love the Lord with all their heart." The enemy is cast out; but he avails himself of the influence of the law of habit, to take a hostile attitude and to seek a re-entrance.

Now when a person has experienced the state of interior nothingness, as it is conveniently, perhaps, and yet not accurately termed, he has by divine grace, not only succeeded in conquering sin in the gigantic forms of creature-love and of self-will, but in breaking down the perplexing influence and the unfavorable tendency of former habits. And hence there is a vast accession to his power, and to his tendency to union with God, Satan himself, in the presentation of his temptations, has comparatively but little influence over such a soul. He has, comparatively speaking, no basis to operate upon, no way of secret, circuitous, and indirect attack; but must come boldly up and make his attack, face to face, as he did in his temptation of the blessed Savior. And this he would rather not do, if he can approach the object of his attack in some other way.

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

Kinds of Sorrow

There are different kinds of sorrow. There is  a godly sorrow, and a worldly sorrow; a sorrow which works life and a sorrow which works death. The one is the product of man's unsanctified nature; the other is inspired by the Holy Ghost. The one is the companion of self-seeking, envy, and avarice; the other is the associate of humility, of love of the truth, and of desires after holiness. The one is sorrow, because we have offended God; the other is sorrow because we have not gained the world.

— Religious Maxims (1846) CLXXXI.

Recognizing the Spirit's Guidance: Outward Manner of Life

The teachings of the Holy Spirit will have a tendency to beautify and perfect the outward manner, as well as the inward experience. And accordingly he, who is truly under this divine direction, will always find his conduct characterized by the utmost decency, propriety, and true courteousness. I believe it is a common remark, that a truly devout and holy person may, in general, be easily recognized by the outward manner. And this remark, which is confirmed by experience, has its foundation in nature. The natural life, which is inordinately full of self, and is often prompted in its movements by passion, pride, and prejudice, will of course develop itself in an outward manner as extravagant, inconsistent, and imperfect, as the inward source from which it springs. Hence it is that we so often see, in the intercourse of man with man, so much that shocks our notions of propriety; so much in word or in action that is characterized by violence or levity; so much that is unsuitable to the time and place. But he, on the contrary, in whom the natural life is slain, and in the center of whose heart the Holy Spirit has taken up his residence to inspire it with truth and love, will discover an outward manner as true, as simple, and as beautiful, as the inward perfection from which it has its origin. A voice inspired with gentleness and love, a countenance not only free from the distortions of passion but radiant with inward peace, a freedom from unbecoming gayety and thoughtless mirth, a propriety of expression resulting from seriousness of character, a disposition to bear meekly and affectionately with the infirmities of others, a placid self-possession, an unaffected but strict regard to the proprieties of time, place, and station, can hardly fail to impress upon the outward beholder a conviction of the purity and power which dwell within.

— edited from The Interior or Hidden Life (2nd edition, 1844) Part 3, Chapter 6.

Heavenly Teaching

The selfish heart for wisdom looks 

In earth's dim leaves and moldering books; 

The holy heart its light doth find 

In God's great light and living Mind.

The holy heart, of love compact, 

With love in every thought and act, 

Doth find, within, the Teacher true, 

With thoughts and lessons ever new.

The secret whispers, inly heard, 

The voice, of the "Eternal Word," 

Surpass in wisdom, far, the reach 

Of what poor earthly schoolmen teach.

Oh WISDOM, coming from above, 

The eldest born, the child of LOVE, 

Be Thou our book, our living page, 

To guide us through earth's pilgrimage.

— Christ in the Soul (1872) XLIX.

Love Adapts to the Situation

One of the characteristics of holy love, in its developed and operative forms is, that it naturally and necessarily adapts itself to the existing state of things. Feelingly alive to every possible variety of circumstance, it assumes, at successive times, an infinity of modifications, without failing, under any of them, to maintain its own simplicity and truth. Its own nature, which harmonizes with the true good of all other natures, requires this. When it is alone, for instance, and its thoughts are
allowed to revert to God in distinction from the creatures of God, sympathizing with the divine excellence and blessedness, it naturally takes the form of adoring communion and praise. It begins to sing. "Bless the Lord,” it says with the Psalmist, "Bless the Lord, O my soul and forget not all his benefits!"

Pure Love Makes Itself Beloved

Pure or unselfish love has a power, beyond anything else, to make itself loved. This remarkable power is as permanent as its own existence. As its attributes of universality and purity, its dispositions to love all, and to love all without selfishness, are essential to its nature; so, also, is the attribute of its influence, that secret but certain  power of making itself beloved, which it has over all minds. It is not a power therefore, which is acquired, but inherent;  not incidental, but permanent; exerting its authority by virtue of its own right, and not merely as the gift of favorable circumstances.

Pure love necessarily makes itself beloved, because it involves in its own nature two things, which have a power over love, namely, Truth and Beauty.

Good For Evil

THEY DO NOT KNOW US. If they did,

They would not blame and smite us so.

To selfish hearts the light is hid,

And being blind, they cannot know.

Then let us not with anger burn,

Resembling thus our cruel foes;

But, when the cheek is smitten, turn

The other meekly to their blows.

With such forgiving words and deeds,

We claim the aid of that great Power,

Who knows His trusting people's needs,

And guards them in their trying hour.

God is thy battle's mighty arm;

God is thy great, victorious sword.

To him there comes nor fear nor harm,

Whose confidence is in the Lord.

— Christ in the Soul (1872) XXXIII.

The Misery of Hell

In the opposite of pure love, that is to say, in selfishness, as it develops itself in a future life, we find the great principle of moral discord, and also that, which constitutes the essential basis of the misery of hell. The misery of hell is not an accident; but just to the extent it is experienced at all, it is a permanent and necessary truth. Like every thing else it has its philosophy. Its leading element is love, terminating in self as the supreme object; in other words, it is supreme selfishness. This principle, wherever it exists and wherever it is transferred, necessarily carries with it the grand element of the world of woe. A being, who is supremely selfish, is necessarily miserable. The result does not depend upon choice or volition, but upon the nature of things. Instead of the principle of unity, which tends to oneness of purpose with other beings, and naturally leads to happiness, he has within him the principle of exclusion and of eternal separation. In its ultimate operation, if it is permitted permanently to exist, it necessarily drives him from every thing else, and wedges him closer and closer in the compressed circumference of his own personality. So that he is not only at variance with God and with all holy beings; but he is not at unity even with the devils themselves. The principle of love, terminating in self as the supreme object and exclusive of other objects, in other words, supreme selfishness makes him at war with all other beings; and it is impossible for him to be happy but in their destruction, which is also an impossibility. This is the true hell and everlasting fire.

— adapted from The Interior of Hidden Life (1844) Part 1, Chapter 12.