Marks of Perfect Love (rewritten)

If the doctrine often called entire sanctification, evangelical holiness, or Christian perfection is true — or if the closely related doctrine known as assurance of faith is true — then an important conclusion follows. It means that even in this present life, it is both our duty and our privilege to experience the fulfillment of that great command: “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart.” In simpler terms, it means that it is possible to live in what can rightly be called perfect love. 

This leads us to a serious and deeply meaningful question: When can our love truly be called perfect? That is the question this chapter seeks to answer.

Before doing so, a few necessary foundations must be laid.

The Death of Her Father and Her Daughter

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

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Incidents of 1672. Presentiment of her father’s death. A message reaches her soon after with the news of his last sickness. His death. Remarks. Affectionate eulogium on her daughter.  Her sickness and death.

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Thus passed the year 1671. I am particular in the periods of time, so far as I am able to ascertain them, which is not always easy to be done. And the reason is, that by connecting the dealings of God and the progress of the inward life with specific times and situations, the mental operation is aided, and we can hardly fail to have a clearer idea of the incidents which are narrated. Another year had now opened upon her, and found her renewedly consecrated to God, and growing wiser and holier through the discipline of bitter experience. Her trials had been somewhat less in this year than in the preceding, but still they were not wholly suspended. And as God designed that she should be wholly his, there were other trials in prospect, which were designed to aid in this important result. We proceed, therefore, in our narrative, with such incidents and facts as we are able to gather from the sources of information found in her own writings and in the writings of some of her contemporaries, which remain to us.

Quietness is Sustained by God's Promises

The grace of quietness of spirit is sustained by faith in God’s promises. The man of true faith is very far from considering the afflictions of God’s people the same thing with their being cast off and rejected. On the contrary, relying on God’s promises, he has not a doubt, that their trial will in due season be changed into redemption, and their mourning into victory. Abraham had his long day of trial; but his hopes deferred were ultimately satisfied and made rich in the gift of Isaac, “the son of promise.” The patriarch Joseph endured the severe trial of his faith in exile and imprisonments and in false accusations; but at length, in the language of the author of the Mute Christian, “he changed his iron fetters into chains of gold, his rags into royal robes, his stocks into a chariot, his prison into a palace.” David also was afflicted in his youth; but was victorious in age. He, who dwelt in caverns and made his pillow upon a rock, was at last seated upon the throne of Israel. Once the humble keeper of his father’s sheep, and known only in the solitudes of his native vallies, he became, in God’s time, the shepherd and ruler of a mighty people; great in his renown, great in his achievements, and greater still in being able to bear testimony to the favor and faithfulness of God. The man of faith understands this. He knows it all. It is written in letters uneffaceable on the centre of his heart. And is it strange, therefore, marking as he does the bow of promise in the dark cloud that overhangs him, that he should be resigned and quiet in spirit? “The steps of a good man,” says the Psalmist, “are ordered by the Lord; and he delighteth in his way. Though he fall, he shall not be utterly cast down, for the Lord upholdeth him with his hand.”

— from The Life of Faith, Part 2, Chapter 13.

Faithfulness in Trial

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

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Faithfulness in trial. Spiritual consolations.

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In all the trials which she was thus called to endure, in the afflictions of her own person, and in the loss of her favorite son, it may be said of her, as it was of Job, — who is naturally called to mind by the story of her sufferings, — that she "sinned not, nor charged God foolishly."  So far, at least, as the occurrences, which have now been mentioned, are concerned, the sincerity of the consecration which she had made of herself and of all her interests to God, had been tried; and through the grace of God it had not been found wanting.

Turning to God Anew

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

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Her statement of some of her early trials:

"It was then I began to eat the bread of sorrow, and mingle my drink with tears."

Such are the expressions which convey to us her sense of her trials. It was in this extremity that it occurred to her, (alas, that we learn this lesson so often from sorrows alone,) that, in the deficiency of all hope in creatures, there might be hope and help in God. It is true, that she had turned away from him; and having sought for solace where she had not found it, and where she ought not to have sought it, she felt ashamed to go back.

But borne down by the burdens of a hidden providence, (a providence which she did not then love because she did not then understand it,) she yielded to the pressure that was upon her, and began to look to him, in whom alone there is true assistance.

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

We Live by Faith, We Continue in Faith

As we begin to live by faith, so we must continue to live by faith. Of the truth of this general view, established as it is by the experience of holy men in all ages of the church, there can be no reasonable doubt. If we need wisdom, for instance, (as every person, who strives to live the divine life, does need it,) we can obtain it in no other way, than by asking for it in the exercise of FAITH; that is to say, believing that God, in accordance with his promise, a promise which has its foundation in the atoning merits of Christ, will give all that wisdom which is necessary for us. If we need support in temptation, (as every person in the present state of existence does need it,) we must ask for such support in the same spirit of filial confidence, without any of those misgivings and doubts, which are the opposites of faith, and we shall have it. If we need a will resigned to God in the endurance of trial or a will conformed to God’s will in the discharge of duty, and will only look to God for it, fully believing in him as true to his own character and declarations, he cannot, and will not disappoint us. There is no mistake, no uncertainty. It is not a result which is accidental or contingent, which may be or may not be; it is just as certain as it is, that God is infinite; and that being what he is, he exists in order to communicate the blessedness of his own nature to others, and that all subordinate beings exist, and can exist, so far as they exist in the divine image, only by receiving from him.

— edited from The Life of Faith Part 1, Chapter 8.

Young Madam Guyon's Trials

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

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Her statement of some of her trials continues:

The place, which was assigned for my residence in my husband's house, was the room which properly belonged to my step-mother. I had no place into which I could retire as my own; and if it had been otherwise, I could not have remained alone in it for any length of time without offense. Kept thus continually in her presence, she took the opportunity to cast unkind reflections upon me before many persons who came to see us. And to complete my affliction, the person who was chosen to act as nurse to my husband in his sicknesses, and who at other times was expected to perform the offices of waiting-maid to myself, entered into all the plans of those who persecuted me. She kept me in sight like a governess, and treated me in a very singular manner, considering the relations actually existing between us. For the most part I bore with patience these evils, which I had no way to avoid; but sometimes I let some hasty answer escape me, which was to me a source of grievous crosses and violent reproaches for a long time together. And when I was permitted to go out of doors, my absence added but little to my liberty. The footman had orders to give an account of everything I did. And what contributed to aggravate my afflictions, was the remembrance of my former situation, and of what I might have enjoyed under other circumstances. I could not easily forget the persons who had sought my affections, dwelling, by a contrasted operation of mind, on their agreeable manners, on the love they had for me, and on the dispositions they manifested,— so different from what I now had before me. All this made my present situation very gloomy, and my burthen intolerable."

It was then I began to eat the bread of sorrow, and mingle my drink with tears. But my tears, which I could not forbear shedding, only furnished new occasion for attack and reproach. In regard to my husband, I ought perhaps to say, that it was not from any natural cruelty that he treated me as he did. He seems to have had a real affection for me, but being naturally hasty in his temper, his mother found the art of continually irritating him against me. Certain it is, that when I was sick, he was very much afflicted. Had it not been for the influence of his mother and of the waiting maid whom I have mentioned, we might have lived happily together.

As it was, my condition was every way deplorable. My step-mother secured her object. My proud spirit broke under her system of coercion. Married to a person of rank and wealth, I found myself a slave in my own dwelling, rather than a free person. The treatment which I received so impaired the vivacity of my nature, that I became dumb, like 'the lamb that is shearing.' The expression of thought and feeling which was natural to me, faded from my countenance. Terror took possession of my mind. I lost all power of resistance. Under the rod of my despotic mistress, I sat dumb and almost idiotic. Those who had heard of me, but had never seen me before, said one to another, ‘Is this the person who sits thus silent like a piece of statuary, that was famed for such an abundance of wit?’ In this situation, I looked in various directions for help; but I found no one with whom I could communicate my unhappiness; no one who might share my grief, and help me to bear it. To have made known my feelings and trials to my parents, would only have occasioned new crosses. I was alone and helpless in my grief.

— from The Life of Madam Guyon Volume 1, Chapter 5.

The Inward Burning

Be PATIENT, let the fire consume,

Give God's interior burning room.

Make no resistance, let it blaze.

And self, in root and branch, erase.

The life of self hath long annoyed;

Thy hopes assail'd, thy joys destroy'd;

It poisons every inward sense ;

And FIRE alone can drive it thence.

The fiery trial gives distress;

But never wish its anguish less;

The pain thou feelest is a sign

Of flames from heaven, of fire divine.

Oh let it burn, till pride and lust,

And envy, creeping in the dust,

And wrong and crime, of every name,

Shall perish in the heavenly flame.

— from Christ in the Soul (1872) LXXVII.

Madam Guyon: The Trial of Christian Faith

'Twas my purpose, on a day,
To embark and sail away:
As I climbed the vessel's side,
Love was sporting in the tide.
"Come," he said,— "ascend — make haste,
Launch into the boundless waste."

Many mariners were there,
Having each his separate care;
They, that rowed us, held their eyes
Fixed upon the starry skies;
Others steer'd, or turn'd the sails
To receive the shifting gales.

Love, with power divine supplied,
Suddenly my courage tried;
In a moment it was night;
Ship and skies were out of sight;
On the briny wave I lay,
Floating rushes 'all my stay.

Did I with resentment burn
At  this unexpected turn?
Did I wish myself on shore,
Never to forsake it more?
No — "My soul" — I cried, "be still;
If I must be lost, I will."

Next he hasten'd to convey
Both my frail supports away;
Seized my rushes; bade the waves
Yawn into a thousand graves;
Down I went and sunk as lead,
Ocean closing o'er my head.

Still, however, life was safe;
And I saw him turn and laugh;
"Friend," cried he, "adieu! lie low,
While the wintry storms shall blow;
When the spring has calm'd the main,
You shall rise and float again."

Soon I saw him with dismay,
Spread his wings and soar away;
Now I mark his rapid flight;
Now he leaves my aching sight;
He  is gone, whom I adore;
It is in vain to seek him more.

How I trembled, then, and fear'd,
When my LOVE had disappeared!
"Wilt thou leave me thus," I cried,
"Whelm'd beneath the rolling tide?'
Vain attempt to reach his ear!
LOVE was gone, and would not hear.

Ah! return and love me still;
See me subject to thy will;
Frown with wrath, or smile with grace,
Only let me see thy face!
Evil I have none to fear;
All is good, if thou art near.

Yet he leaves me — cruel fate!
Leaves me in my lost estate
Have I sinn'd? O, say wherein;
Tell me, and forgive my sin!
King, and Lord, whom I adore,
Shall I see thy face no more?

Be not angry; I resign,
Henceforth, all my will to thine;
I consent that thou depart,
Though thine absence break my heart;
Go, then, and forever too;
All is right, that thou wilt do.

This was just what LOVE intended;
He was now no more offended;
Soon as I became a child,
LOVE return'd to me and smiled;
Never strife shall more betide,
'Twixt the Bridegroom and his Bride.

— Madame Guyon, as translated by William Cowper.

External Crosses

God sometimes sees fit to impose upon his beloved children, internal, as well as external crosses. There seems to be almost a necessity for this. "The life, which they now live, they live by faith on the Son of God." The Christian life is truly and emphatically a life of faith. A life of faith is necessarily the opposite of a life of direct vision. And how can the principle of faith operate, much more how can it acquire strength, unless God shall at times withdraw himself from the direct vision, and leave the soul to its own obscurity? If a man, wishing to test the spirit of obedience in his son, commands the son to follow him in a certain direction, does he not render his own test unavailable, by taking him by the hand and dragging him along? And so our heavenly Father, if he wishes to test and to strengthen our faith, must he not sometimes take us out of the region of openness and clearness of sight, and place us in the midst of entanglements, uncertainties, and shadows? What we need, what we must have, what is absolutely indispensable to our interior salvation, is faith; faith which gives the victory; faith strong, unwavering, adamantine. It was by want of faith that we fell; it is by want of faith that we are kept in continual bondage; and it is only by the restoration of faith that we can sunder the chains that shackle us, and walk forth in spiritual freedom. But faith can never arise to that degree of invigoration, which our necessities so imperiously demand, while we are permitted to walk continually in the field of open vision and under the sunlight of present manifestations. Hence there seems to be a necessity, that he who has made us and who loves us with an infinity of love, should, nevertheless, sometimes wrap himself in the majesty of uncreated darkness, in order that we may learn the great lesson of following God without seeing Him, and of appreciating his uttered word, his simple declaration, at the same value with his manifested realities and acts.

The Trials of the Sanctified Life

It is perhaps a common opinion, that those, who are greatly advanced in religion, and have experienced what may properly be regarded as the grace of present sanctification, are not very much tried and afflicted. They are supposed to possess not only an inheritance of constant peace, but of much joy.

That a truly sanctified person is never in darkness, in one sense of the term, viz. condemnatory darkness; in other words, that he never loses the grace of a confiding trust in God and of solid internal peace, which his Savior has given to him as his inheritance, is undoubtedly true. If there ever be an exception, as for instance when the mental powers are depressed and darkened by the pressure of some physical disease, yet such exceptions are, probably, few in number, are explainable on principles peculiar to themselves, and are not to be regarded as essentially affecting the general doctrine.

But although those, who are wholly devoted to God, may be said always to have a solid and permanent peace, it is not true, that they are exempt from heavy afflictions both external and internal. On the contrary, there is some reason to believe, that those, who love most, will suffer most; that those, who are the strongest in the Lord, will have the heaviest burden to bear. "In the world," says the Savior, "ye shall have tribulation." "For unto you it is given in the behalf of Christ," says the Apostle in his Epistle to the Philippians, "not only to believe on him, but also to suffer for his sake." 

It  is important to understand this, to know that it is our lot and our privilege to be partakers of Christ's sufferings, so that those, who enter into the way of holy living, which is just what it is described to be, viz. a narrow way, may not be discouraged and overcome in the season of heavy trial. Satan will say to them at such times, Where now is your God? And it is exceedingly desirable, that they should know how to answer him.

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

Silence Under Trials

When words and acts, untrue, unkind,
Against thy life, like arrows, fly;
Receive them with a patient mind;
Seek no revenge, make no reply.

Oh holy SILENCE! 'Tis the shield,
More strong than warrior's twisted mail;
A hidden strength, a might conceal'd,
Which worldly shafts in vain assail.

He,  who is silent in his cause,
Has left that cause to heavenly arms;
And heaven's eternal aid and laws
Are swift to ward the threatening harms.

God is our great, protecting Power.
BE STILL! The great Defender moves;
He  watches well the dangerous hour;
Nor fails to save the child He loves.

— Christ in the Soul (1872) XXXII.

One Great Consideration

Amid all the trials of life, amid the rebukes, calumnies, and persecutions of evil men, in seasons when Satan seems to triumph, there is one great consideration which ought to tranquilize and elevate the Christian mind; and that is, that God, who sees the end from the beginning, will glorify himself, and will make even the wrath of his enemies to praise him.

— Religious Maxims (1846) CVIII.

Walking Through the Darkness

The tendency of suffering is not only to lead us to God, as the only being who can help us, but to keep us there. The general result, in the case of Christians, is, the more they suffer, the more they trust; and the more they trust, the more will the principle of trust or faith be strengthened. So that affliction, by impressing the necessity of higher aid than human, tends not only to originate faith in God, but indirectly to increase it; tends not only to unite us with God, but to strengthen that union.

Indeed, it is difficult to see how faith can be much strengthened in any other way. When we walk by faith, we walk, in a certain sense, in darkness. If it were perfectly light around us, we should not walk by faith, but by open vision. Faith is a light to the soul; but it is the very condition of its existence, that it shall have a dark place to shine in. It is faith which conducts us, but our journey is through shadows. And this illustrates the meaning of certain expressions fre­quently found in the experimental writings of Dionysius the Areopagite, and found also in other writers who hold similar views, such as the "night of faith," "the divine darkness," "the obscure night of faith,"  and the like.

It  is hardly necessary to say, that darkness or night, in its application to the mind, is a figurative expression, and means trial or suffering, attended with ignorance of the issues and objects of that suffering. And, accordingly, these writers teach, in harmony with other experimental writers, that seasons of trial, leading to the exercise of faith, are exceedingly profitable. The biblical writers, whom they profess to follow, obviously teach the same. "Persecuted," says the apostle, "but not forsaken; cast down, but not destroyed. Always bearing about in the body  the dying of the Lord Jesus, that the life also of Jesus might be made manifest in our body." And again, "Our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory." 2  Cor.  4:9, 10, 17.

— edited from A Treatise on Divine Union (1851) Part 5, Chapter 7.

Suffering as an Evidence of Love

When suffering is attended with right affections, it becomes one of the strongest, and perhaps the only satisfactory evidence of true love. If God should bestow upon us mercies alone, without trials, it might be difficult to say, whether we loved him for himself, or only for the blessings he gave. But if our affection remains unshaken under the trials he sees fit to send, we have good reason to regard it as true. The love which exists and flourishes at such times is not a mere accessory, dependent for its continuance upon circumstances, but is a permanent principle.

— edited from A Treatise on Divine Union (1851) Part 5, Chapter 7.

Sanctification and the Path of Trial

The way of those who truly and deeply believe, like that trodden by the divine Master in whom they have trusted, is a path of trial. "Whosoever," says the Saviour, "doth not bear his cross and come after me, cannot  be my disciple." [Luke 14:27.] The most eminent Christians have, as a general thing, been called to pass through the greatest sufferings. Infinite wisdom, which explains the means it uses by the results that follow, has seen fit to connect their sufferings with their sanctification. God has seen it to be necessary that they should suffer, not only for the good of others, which they could easily understand, but also for their own good, the reasons of which it was the more difficult to see. A few remarks will explain, in part, the nature of this necessity.

A heart unsanctified, which is the same thing as a heart not united with God, is a heart which has become disordered both in its faith and in its attachments. Its desires, in consequence of its faith being wrongly placed, are separated from their true center; and, consequently, are either given to wrong objects, or, by being inordinate, exist in a wrong degree. The sanctification of the heart is its restoration from this wrong state. And this is done by a course the reverse of that which sin has previously prompted it to take, namely, by the substitution of a right faith for a wrong one; by taking the desires from wrong objects, and by suppressing all their inordinate action. But this is a process which is not ordinarily gone through without much suffering.

— from A Treatise on Divine Union (1851) Part 5, Chapter 7.

New Grace for New Trials

The grace which may meet and subdue the temptations of the present moment, may not be appropriate and adequate to the temptations of any future time. Every day and every moment bring their duties and trials, and need their appropriate grace. There must, therefore, be constantly repeated acts of faith; and by means of faith a constant application of the atoning efficacy of the blood of the Cross; both to preserve against the power of existing temptation, and also to wash the mind from the impurity of its stains, when we have already yielded to it. We would observe, finally, that temptations are profitable trials of the religious life, and are particularly calculated to purify and strengthen our faith. They are grievous for a time, it is true; but they are calculated to secure, in the end, the peaceable fruits of righteousness. Very few have become strong in faith, who have not passed through great trials. It is said of the Savior himself, that he "learned obedience by the things which he suffered."

— edited from The Interior or Hidden Life (1844)  Part 1, Chapter 19.

Acceptance of Trials

'Tis all the same to me;
Sorrow, and strife, and pining want, and pain!
Whate'er it is, it cometh all from Thee,
And 'tis not mine to doubt Thee or complain.

Thou knowest what is best;
And who, oh God, but Thee hath power to know?
'Tis Thine alike with good to make us blest,
And Thine to send affliction's hour of woe.

No questions will I ask.
Do what Thou wilt, my Father and my God!
Be mine the dear and consecrated task,
To bless the loving hand that lifts the rod.

All, all shall please me well;
Since living faith hath made it understood,
That in the shadowy folds of sorrow dwell
The seeds of life and everlasting good.

— Christ in the Soul (1872) XXIII.

Compassion

"JUDGE NOT," the heavenly Teacher says,
Judge not, your erring brother's ways;
It is the great, omniscient part
Of God alone, to know the heart.

'Tis God alone the trial knows
Of Him, in error's paths who goes;
The secret, hidden tempting power,
Which ruled him in the dangerous hour.

And since the wicked deed was done,
'Tis  known to God, and God alone;
What bitter sighs, what scalding tears,
Have rued that deed of other years.

 

Though Priest and Levite pass him by,
Oh, let him have Thy pitying eye;
Thy tender look, Thy heart-felt prayer,
A brother's love, a sister's care.

— Christ in the Soul (1872), XXI.

The Little Crosses

As a general thing, it may be expected that all Christians will find themselves able to bear the GREAT CROSSES of life, because they come with observation; they attract notice by their very magnitude; and by putting the soul on its guard, give it strength to meet them. But happy, thrice happy is he, who can bear the LITTLE CROSSES, which ever lie in wait, and which attack us secretly and without giving warning, like a thief in the night.

— Religious Maxims (1846) LXXI.