— Religious Maxims XLVI.
The life of those who dwell in the secret place of the Most High may be called a Hidden Life, because the animating principle, the vital or operative element, is not so much in itself as in another. It is a life grafted into another life. It is the life of the soul, incorporated into the life of Christ; and in such a way, that, while it has a distinct vitality, it has so very much in the sense, in which the branch of a tree may be said to have a distinct vitality from the root.
Tuesday, April 22, 2014
Elevation in Profound Humility
If we wish to rise high in God; we must be willing to sink low in ourselves. It may seem like a contradiction in terms, but it is nevertheless true, that there is no elevation in true religion higher than that of profound humility. He that would be the the greatest must become the least. He, who was equal with God, condescended to become man. And it was the beloved Son of the Most High that washed the feet of the disciples.
Monday, April 21, 2014
Christian Simplicity
When on a certain occasion the pious Fenelon, after having experienced much trouble and persecution from his opposers, was advised by some one to take greater precautions against the artifices and evil designs of men, he made answer in the true spirit of a Christian, MORIAMUR IN SIMPLICITATE NOSTRA, "let us die in our simplicity." He, that is wholly in Christ, has a oneness and purity of purpose, altogether inconsistent with those tricks and subterfuges, which are so common among men. He walks in broad day. He goes forth in the light of conscious honesty. He is willing, that men and angels should read the very bottom of his heart. He has but one rule. His language is, in the ordinary affairs of life, as well as in the duties of religion, "My Father, what wilt thou have me to do?" — This is christian simplicity; and happy, thrice happy is he, who possesses it.
— Religious Maxims (1846) XLV.
Saturday, April 19, 2014
Christ in the Soul
Thou sayest, it shall surely be,
That Christ, the Lord, shall come again;
And, in His scepter'd majesty,
His royal state maintain.
'Tis well. Already hath He come;
Already in the holy soul,
He makes His high and scepter'd home,
And wields supreme control.
Christ in the heart is holy LOVE;
Nor doth He make a higher claim;
In earth below, in heaven above,
LOVE is His "hidden name."
He comes; but not to outward view;
He comes and makes the spirit whole:
He comes, the Beautiful, the True,
The Love-life of the soul.
That Christ, the Lord, shall come again;
And, in His scepter'd majesty,
His royal state maintain.
'Tis well. Already hath He come;
Already in the holy soul,
He makes His high and scepter'd home,
And wields supreme control.
Christ in the heart is holy LOVE;
Nor doth He make a higher claim;
In earth below, in heaven above,
LOVE is His "hidden name."
He comes; but not to outward view;
He comes and makes the spirit whole:
He comes, the Beautiful, the True,
The Love-life of the soul.
— Christ in the Soul (1872) VIII.
Friday, April 18, 2014
Give All and Take All
The kingdoms of the world are thine,
If thou hast faith thyself to lose;
But they who seek the ME and MINE,
The universal good refuse.
The master of his own desire,
The victor over selfish claims,
Doth by that DEATH OF SELF aspire
To universal ends and aims.
He breaks his bars and prison bound;
And in his free, imperial soul,
Hath boldly reached, and nobly found
The wide, the bright, the kingly whole.
The gems, in hidden mines that glow,
The stars, that shine beyond the skies,
The heavens above, the earth below,
ALL, ALL, are his, to SELF, who dies.
If thou hast faith thyself to lose;
But they who seek the ME and MINE,
The universal good refuse.
The master of his own desire,
The victor over selfish claims,
Doth by that DEATH OF SELF aspire
To universal ends and aims.
He breaks his bars and prison bound;
And in his free, imperial soul,
Hath boldly reached, and nobly found
The wide, the bright, the kingly whole.
The gems, in hidden mines that glow,
The stars, that shine beyond the skies,
The heavens above, the earth below,
ALL, ALL, are his, to SELF, who dies.
— Christ in the Soul (1872) VII.
Thursday, April 17, 2014
Pray Earnestly for Sanctification
Pray earnestly for sanctification. Let this be the desire of your heart from morning till evening, and from evening till morning. On this subject keep the soul resolutely fixed. Take no denial. Refuse to be comforted, till you are blessed. But nevertheless, be careful, that you impose no conditions upon God. Say not, thou must do it in this way or in that. Remember, He is a sovereign; and that you are nothing. Sometimes He comes and turns out the evil legions of the heart with observation and with a triumphant shout. But not unfrequently He is mighty in his silence, and smites and destroys his enemies by an agency so mysterious and secret, that it seems to be alike unseen and unheard.
— Religious Maxims (1846) XLIV.
Wednesday, April 16, 2014
Spiritual Blindness
In vain does the man attempt to see, whose sight is obscured by the cataract, or by some other equally ruinous disease. Nor is he less blind, over whose spiritual eye sin has drawn its opaque scales and films. Hence it is said in Scripture, "The light shineth in darkness, and the darkness comprehended it not." But break off and purge away the spiritual cataract, and the power of vision will return. In proportion as the eye of the soul is purified from the perplexity of earthly corruptions, does Christ become the true light of the mind; and the beauty of the divine character begins from that moment to unveil itself in all its wonderful perfection. BLESSED ARE THE PURE IN HEART, FOR THEY SHALL SEE GOD.
— Religious Maxims (1846) XLIII.
Tuesday, April 15, 2014
"Cease, And I Will Do All"
Antonia Bourignon... speaking of some forms of prayer which she had been accustomed to go through, says, at a certain time, that they became burdensome to her, and difficult to be repeated. Her mind, fixing upon no particular object of want or desire, was greatly drawn to inward silence.
In her alarm she hardly knew what to think; but was inclined to adopt the trying conclusion, either that she had become indifferent to religion, or that God had abandoned her. She laid the case before God. The answer, which she speaks of having received, or perhaps more properly the conclusion to which her spirit was promptly led by a divine operation, was embodied in the concise but significant inward expression, "Cease, and I will do all."
The import of this divine response was this: Cease from the useless multitude of petitions with which you now weary me; leave, in the exercise of faith, all your cares and sorrows and wants in my hands, and I will take care of you.
In other words, it was the transition point from a life of desire to a life of faith; and, instead of being a state of indifference or declension in religion, was really one of great advancement.
In her alarm she hardly knew what to think; but was inclined to adopt the trying conclusion, either that she had become indifferent to religion, or that God had abandoned her. She laid the case before God. The answer, which she speaks of having received, or perhaps more properly the conclusion to which her spirit was promptly led by a divine operation, was embodied in the concise but significant inward expression, "Cease, and I will do all."
The import of this divine response was this: Cease from the useless multitude of petitions with which you now weary me; leave, in the exercise of faith, all your cares and sorrows and wants in my hands, and I will take care of you.
In other words, it was the transition point from a life of desire to a life of faith; and, instead of being a state of indifference or declension in religion, was really one of great advancement.
— edited from A Treatise on Divine Union (1851) Part 2, Chapter 4.
Monday, April 14, 2014
The Life of Desire Contrasted With the Life of Faith
In order satisfactorily to understand the nature of the life of faith, it is necessary to distinguish it in some particulars from the life of desire. It is by these last expressions that the state of Christians, in the more common forms of experience, may well be described. Undoubtedly the description will apply with still more truth and emphasis to those whose hearts have never been brought in any degree under a truly religious influence. Of Christians, however, as well as of those who are not so, it can be said, with too much reason, that their life, which ought to be more fully sustained by a higher principle, is a life of desire. If they will examine carefully, they will be surprised to find the great disproportion which there is between their desires and their faith.
They desire, for instance, those temporal things which are convenient for them, without exercising a correspondent degree of faith, and without looking, as they ought to do, to the great and only Giver of all good. They desire, with feelings partly natural and partly, the progress of God's work in the world; but they have but little faith, certainly far less than they ought to have, that his work will be carried on. They have desires, perhaps earnest desires, that individuals, with whom they are acquainted, should become the devout followers of God; — but they have not faith in proportion to their desires. It is oftentimes the case that their desires are various, multiplied, and perhaps violent, when they are scarcely conscious of any degree of faith. Indeed, it seems sometimes to be the case that desires are strong and impetuous in proportion to want of faith.
The life of desire has its center in the creature. The life of faith has its center in God. The life of desire has its origin in the wants of man's fallen condition. It is the natural expression, the voice of those wants. The life of faith has its origin in the fulness of God. It is the expression, the voice of that fulness. The life of desire, originating in the creature, is bounded in its horizon. It selects particular objects, such as it can see, and appreciate, and cling to. The life of faith seeks nothing in its own will; but expanding its view to all objects and all relations of objects, it chooses, without knowing what is best for itself or others, only what God chooses.
The life of desire is variable. It takes a new appearance, and operates in a new direction, with every new object to which it attaches itself. The life of faith is invariable, always exhibiting the same aspect and looking in the same direction, because the object which inspired it never changes and never can change. The life of desire is a multiplied one, because it seizes successively upon the multiplied objects of desire by which it is surrounded. The life of faith is simple, because, tracing effects to causes and losing sight of the littleness of the creature in the infinity of the Creator, it rests upon God alone.
The life of desire asks; the life of faith satisfied. Desire is the voice, the petition of the creature; faith is the expression of God's answer. Desire, restless by its very nature, seeks to accomplish its object by positive and aggressive efforts. Faith, in the consciousness of its strength, conquers by being in harmony with the divine movement, and by the attractions and power of its innate purity and repose.
They desire, for instance, those temporal things which are convenient for them, without exercising a correspondent degree of faith, and without looking, as they ought to do, to the great and only Giver of all good. They desire, with feelings partly natural and partly, the progress of God's work in the world; but they have but little faith, certainly far less than they ought to have, that his work will be carried on. They have desires, perhaps earnest desires, that individuals, with whom they are acquainted, should become the devout followers of God; — but they have not faith in proportion to their desires. It is oftentimes the case that their desires are various, multiplied, and perhaps violent, when they are scarcely conscious of any degree of faith. Indeed, it seems sometimes to be the case that desires are strong and impetuous in proportion to want of faith.
The life of desire has its center in the creature. The life of faith has its center in God. The life of desire has its origin in the wants of man's fallen condition. It is the natural expression, the voice of those wants. The life of faith has its origin in the fulness of God. It is the expression, the voice of that fulness. The life of desire, originating in the creature, is bounded in its horizon. It selects particular objects, such as it can see, and appreciate, and cling to. The life of faith seeks nothing in its own will; but expanding its view to all objects and all relations of objects, it chooses, without knowing what is best for itself or others, only what God chooses.
The life of desire is variable. It takes a new appearance, and operates in a new direction, with every new object to which it attaches itself. The life of faith is invariable, always exhibiting the same aspect and looking in the same direction, because the object which inspired it never changes and never can change. The life of desire is a multiplied one, because it seizes successively upon the multiplied objects of desire by which it is surrounded. The life of faith is simple, because, tracing effects to causes and losing sight of the littleness of the creature in the infinity of the Creator, it rests upon God alone.
The life of desire asks; the life of faith satisfied. Desire is the voice, the petition of the creature; faith is the expression of God's answer. Desire, restless by its very nature, seeks to accomplish its object by positive and aggressive efforts. Faith, in the consciousness of its strength, conquers by being in harmony with the divine movement, and by the attractions and power of its innate purity and repose.
— edited from A Treatise on Divine Union (1851) Part 2, Chapter 4.
Saturday, April 12, 2014
Casting Off the Broken Shield of Earth
It is, perhaps, a common idea, that humility implies weakness; and that lowliness of spirit is the same thing with spiritual imbecility. But this certainly is not a correct view. Christian humility, it is true, has nothing in itself; but it has much in God. In a word, it is the renunciation of our own wisdom, that we may receive wisdom from above; the negation and banishment of our own strength, that we may possess divine strength; the rejection of our own righteousness, that we may receive the righteousness of Christ. How, then, can it possibly be weak and imbecile, while it merely casts off the broken shield of earth, that it may put on the bright panoply of heaven?
— Religious Maxims (1846) XLII.
Friday, April 11, 2014
Walking in Humility
Where there is true Christian perfection, there is always great humility; a Christian grace which it is difficult to define, but which implies at least a quiet and subdued, a meek and forbearing spirit. Whatever may be our supposed gifts and graces, whatever may be our internal pleasures and raptures, they are far from furnishing evidence of completeness of Christian character without humility. It is this grace, which, perhaps more than any other, imparts a beauty and attractiveness to the religious life; and which, while it is blessed with the favor and approbation of God, has the additional efficacy of disarming, in a considerable degree, even the hostility of unholy men. It has the appearance of a contradiction in terms, but is nevertheless true, that he who walks in humility walks in power.
— Religious Maxims (1846) XLI.
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