Seeking in the Creature What Can Only Be Found in God

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

---

---

Mademoiselle De La Mothe continued in the state of mind which we have described, about a year. But this strong religious tendency also had its end.

What it was which led to the termination of religious prospects so flattering, it is difficult to state with entire confidence. There is some reason for thinking, however, that the love of God, not far from this time, began to be disturbed by the accession and influence of a love, which was more mixed and earthly in its origin. She relates that her father with his family left the city of Montargis, in order to spend some days in the country; and that he took with him a very accomplished young gentleman, one of his near relations. This young man, of whom she speaks in high terms for his religious sentiments, as well as his intellectual and other accomplishments, became much attached to her. She was still young, being only in her fourteenth year. She gives us to understand, that this individual, notwithstanding the circumstance of her immature age, made propositions of marriage. And this, after a suitable time, would probably have been the result, with the cordial consent of all the parties concerned, if it had not been met by the obstacle, that their relationship was so near as to bring them within the degrees of consanguinity, in which marriage is prohibited in the Catholic Church. This obstacle, it is true, could have been removed by a dispensation from the Papal See; but, still it was one of so serious a nature, that her father did not think it proper to give his consent. Still they were mutually pleased, and spent much time in each other's company. It was at the time of this attachment, that she says significantly and penitently, that she "began to seek in the creature what she had previously found in God." But we will let her describe her spiritual declension in her own language.

In connection with a reference to her daily interviews with this young relative, she says:

I left off prayer. I became as a vineyard exposed to pillage, whose hedges, torn down, give liberty to all the creatures to ravage it.  I began to seek in the creature what I had found in God.  And thou, oh my God! didst leave me to myself, because I left the first and wast pleased, in permitting me to sink into the horrible pit, to make me see and feel the necessity of maintaining a state of continual watchfulness and communion with thyself. Thou hast taught thy people, that thou wilt destroy those who, by indulging wrongly-placed affections, depart from thee. Alas! their departure alone causes their destruction; since in departing from Thee, the Sun of Righteousness, they enter into the region of darkness and the shadow of death. And there, bereft of all true strength, they will remain. It is not possible that they should ever arise again, unless Thou shalt revisit them; unless Thou shalt restore them to light and life, by illuminating their darkness, and by melting their icy hearts. Thou didst leave me to myself, because I left Thee first. But such was Thy goodness, that it seemed to  me, that Thou didst leave me with regret.

— edited from The Life of Madam Guyon (1847) Volume 1, Chapter 3.

A Missed Visit

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

---

About this time the Catholic church of France, desirous to spread abroad the Christian religion where it was yet unknown, was enlarging its missions in the East. Among the individuals whose piety led them to engage in this  benevolent  work, was a nephew of M. De La Mothe. His name was De Toissi; the same individual, of whom some account is given in the History of Foreign Missions, Relation des Missions Etrangéres,  under the name of De Chamesson. This young man, in company with one of the French bishops, the titular bishop of Heliopolis, had commenced his journey to the place of his labors in Cochin China; and in passing through Montargis, had called at the residence of his uncle. His visit was short; but characterized as it was by the circumstance, that he was about to leave his native land perhaps forever, and on business too that was infinitely dear to the heart of humanity and religion, it was full of interest. He was one of those, who could say in the sweet language of the subject of this Memoir, when in after life she suffered in prison and its exile,

“My  country, Lord, art Thou alone;

No other can I claim or own;

The point, where all my wishes meet,

My Law, my Love, life's only sweet."

Mademoiselle De La Mothe had gone out at, the time of this short but deeply interesting visit of her pious cousin; a visit incidental to a journey undertaken from religious considerations, and which, therefore, could not well be delayed from purely worldly motives. "I happened," she says, "at that time to be gone a-walking with my companions, which I seldom did. At my return he was gone. They gave me an account of his sanctity, and of the things he had said. I was so touched with it, that I was overcome with sorrow. I cried all the rest of the day and of the night."

This was one of those incidents in the Providence of God, which come home to the heart. How often has the mere sight of a truly pious man brought the hardened sinner under conviction! How often have those who have been unmoved by the most eloquent religious appeals, been deeply affected by the most simple and unpretending words, when uttered under circumstances favorable to such a result. When she heard the statement of the deep and devoted piety of her cousin De Toissi, the thoughts of Mademoiselle De La Mothe, on the principle of contrast rather than of resemblance, naturally reverted to herself. She remembered how often God had called her to himself; and how often she had listened without obeying, or had obeyed without persevering in obedience. "What!" she exclaimed to a pious person, who acted as her Confessor and religious teacher, "am I the only person in our family to be lost! Alas! Help me in my salvation." Her whole soul was roused to a sense of her situation. She recalled with deep compunction her repeated seasons of seriousness and religious inquiry, and of subsequent declension. "Alas!" she exclaimed, "what grief I now sustained for having displeased God! What regrets! What exclamations! What tears of sorrow!" Once more she endeavored to bring her mind to a religious frame.

Once more she applied herself to the task of her soul's salvation, apparently with great sincerity and earnestness; but without being able to find the simple way of acceptance by  faith.  She resisted her passions, which were liable to be strongly moved; and her efforts were attended with a considerable degree of success. She asked the forgiveness of those, whom she was so unhappy as to have displeased. Appreciating, in some degree, the relation between religion and practical benevolence, she visited the poor, gave them food and clothing, and taught them the catechism. She spent much time in private reading and praying. She purchased and read some of the practical and devotional books which were most highly valued among her people, such as the Life of Madame de Chantal and the works of St. Francis de Sales. She inscribed the name of the Savior in large characters upon a piece of paper; and so attached it, to her person as to be continually reminded of him. With an erroneous notion of expiating her sin by her own suffering, she voluntarily subjected herself to various bodily austerities. Determining to leave nothing undone which seemed to furnish any hope of spiritual improvement, it is worthy of notice that she made a vow, in imitation of the devout Madame de Chantal, of ever aiming at the highest perfection, and of doing the will of God in everything. This undoubtedly was an important resolution, which, we may reasonably suppose, would have been followed by the happiest consequences, if it had not been made too much in her own strength, and in ignorance of the great renovating principle, that all true strength is derived from God through Christ by faith.  Among other things which characterized her mental exercises and her efforts at this time, it appears that she came to the resolution, if Providence should permit, to enter into a Convent, and in the apparent hopelessness of aid from any other source, to secure her spiritual interests and her salvation by becoming a Nun. This part of her plan, which showed the depth of her feeling on the subject which now occupied her mind, was frustrated by her father, who was tenderly attached to her, and who, while he was earnestly desirous that his daughter might become truly religious, supposed that she might possess religion without separating from her family, and without an entire seclusion from the world.

The Infinite Mind, no doubt, beheld and sympathized in the anxiety which she felt, and in the efforts she made. God is not, indifferent, he never can be indifferent, to those who strive to enter in. He numbers all their tears; he registers all their resolves. How can it be otherwise? If the state of mind be that of true striving after God, he himself has inspired it. Has he no feeling, no sympathy for his own work? It is true that he sometimes permits those whom he determines eventually to bless, to strive long, and perhaps to wander in erroneous ways. But the result of this painful experience will be, that, they will ultimately understand much better than they otherwise would have done, the direction and the issue of the true path. They have a lesson to learn which cannot well be dispensed with; and God therefore is willing that they should learn it. What that lesson is, it is not always easy to say, in individual cases. Perhaps the remains of self-confidence exist within them, which can be  removed only by the experience of the sorrows which are attendant upon the errors it invariably commits. And accordingly God leaves them to test the value of human wisdom. They try it; they fall into mistakes; they are overwhelmed with confusion; and then, and not till then, they see the necessity and importance of reposing all their confidence in Him, who alone can guide them in safety.

— edited from The Life of Madam Guyon (1877) Volume 1, Chapter 3.

Like a Beggar...

A beggar at a certain time, hungry and destitute of clothing, went and asked aid from another person. He asked in faith; that is to say, he asked in the exercise of entire confidence both in the ability and in the benevolent disposition of the person, to whom the application was made. And his faith being rightly placed, he received in accordance with his faith. But in thus placing himself in harmonious relation with the donor, viz.: in corresponding, in his sense of need, in his willingness to receive, and in the exercise of faith, with the donor’s generous disposition, no one can suppose that he ceased to exercise his own agency or to possess moral responsibility; and at the same time, being a mere recipient, no one can suppose, that he had any merit, which could detract from the fullness and freeness of the gift, or which could entitle him to reward. And so in the relations existing between man and God. If our own minds, in the sense of want and in the exercise of faith, are put into harmony and union with the Divine Mind, we shall receive what we need; but, being recipients and not the donor, we shall feel, as the beggar did, that the merit of all our mercies is in the giver of them; and at the same time it will be true, that we shall receive them without any infringement or loss of personal agency and accountability.

It is desirable, that these views and principles should be remembered. They aid in justifying the representations of Scripture, which every where and most emphatically ascribe man’s spiritual restoration to faith. Nor can any other principle, considered as standing first and standing alone, take its place. Even the principle of love, noble and divine as it is, could not unite the soul to God, and could not even be pleasing to God, without faith as its antecedent and basis. In the full possession of faith, we at once enter into harmony with God, and we necessarily exercise, on their appropriate occasions, all those affections which are desirable. By a law of its own nature it propagates every thing else from its own bosom. Having once come into existence under the divine inspiration, it may be said instrumentally and in the natural filiation of the mental exercises, to make all, to secure all. But without faith, whatever else he may have, man is left of God and left of happiness.

— edited from The Life of Faith (1852) Part 1, Chapter 7.

Faith Alone Binds Us With God — Not Human Merit

Faith, then, is the tie, which binds us to our Maker. It does it effectually; and no other principle can take its place, or fulfill its office.

And there is one reason for this remark, which should be noticed here. Faith can harmonize man with his Maker, and make him the recipient of what is necessary for the restoration and perfection of his nature, without involving the idea or the fact of moral merit on man’s part. That is to say, having strength, having wisdom, or any other inward and Christian grace from God in the exercise of faith, we cannot, as Christians, speak of it as our own wisdom and our own strength, and consequently cannot appropriate to ourselves any merit nor lay claim to any reward. And yet, in renouncing ourselves and in harmonizing with God in the exercise of faith, simple as these mental operations appear to be, and as they are in fact, there is obviously so much of free and of positive action as to involve and to secure our moral responsibility.

— edited from The Life of Faith (1852) Part 1, Chapter 7.

Renouncing Our Own Strength

In renouncing our own strength and any thing else which may be regarded as pertaining to ourselves, it is not meant, that we should be inactive and not employ those powers which God has given us; but that in their exercise, we should have no hope, no confidence in them, except so far as they exist in co-operation with an inward divine guidance, and are attended with the divine blessing; in other words, we should have no confidence in them, except so far as the human operation is one with the divine operation.

Or to express the same thing again, in another shape, the great business of the creature is, not to be without action, but to act in concurrence with God, to harmonize with God. This was the prayer of the Savior, “as thou, Father, art in me, and I in thee; that they also may be one in us.” To express the whole as simply and briefly as possible, the sum of religion is unity with God. And this unity, which cannot exist without the concurrence of the creature, is secured by faith. It is not possible for God to be in union with any being, that has not confidence in him. A want of confidence, which is the same thing as a want of faith, is itself disunion.

— edited from The Life of Faith (1852) Part 1, Chapter 7.

Faith is the Bond of Union with God

It is faith, more than any thing else, which constitutes the true bond of union between God and man.

If God in his supremacy is first in time and first in power, if the true and only source of existence of power to all other beings resides in himself as necessarily involved in his own infinite nature; in other words, if God is God, then all other beings and all other things, sin only excepted, are from him and by him. It becomes, then, a great problem, in what way this supremacy, without which God cannot be God, shall exist and operate in God’s moral creatures, giving them life and power, and sustaining the life and power which it gives, and yet without a violation of their moral responsibility. In other words, the question or problem is, in what way shall men, consistently with their moral identity and responsibility, enter, (as all Christians who experience the highest results of religion do enter,) into the state of entire moral union or oneness with God.

Receiving The Sacrament

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

---

When she entered upon the twelfth year of her age, she proposed to partake of the sacrament of the Eucharist.

She acknowledges that for some time previous she had been remiss in religious duties. Some jealousies and disaffections, as is not unfrequently the case, had sprung up among the younger members of her father's family. A feeling of dissatisfaction and melancholy seems to have entered her mind. And as if weary of God, she gave up what little religious inclination and feeling she had, saying, "she was none the better for it," and wickedly implying in the remark, that the troubles connected with religion exceeded the benefit resulting from it. I think it would not be correct to say, that she had given up religion; but rather had given up many favorable feelings and many outward practices, which have a connection with religion. And this remark will perhaps be the better understood, when we say in explanation, that, although she had been interested in religion, it does not appear that she possessed those traits or qualities which really constitute it. Prompted, partly by example, and partly by serious impressions, she had sought it, but had not found it. Her religious interest, as we have already had occasion to notice, varied at different times. At one time, in particular, it seems to have been very great. She seems to have had convictions of sin; she had some desires to live in God's guidance and favor; she formed good resolutions; she had a degree of inward consolation. But when we examine these experiences closely, I think we shall find reason for saying, that such desires, convictions, and resolutions, which often lay near the surface of the mind without stirring very much its inward depths, were, in her case at least, the incidents and preparatives of religion, rather than religion itself. The great inward Teacher, the Holy Ghost, had not as yet dispossessed the natural life, and given a new life in Christ. She herself intimates that her religion was chiefly in appearance; and that self, and not the love of God, was at the bottom.

The suggestion to partake of the sacrament of the Supper, and thus by an outward act at least, to array herself more distinctly on the Lord's side, seems to have originated with her father. In order to bring about what he had near at heart, and which was in accordance with the principles of the church of which he was a member, he placed her again at the Ursuline Seminary. Her paternal half-sister, who still resided there, and who appears to have had some increased and leading responsibility as an instructress, pleased with the suggestion, but at the same time aware of her unfortunate state of mind, labored assiduously to give rise to better inward dispositions. The labors of this patient and affectionate sister, who knew what it was both to believe and to pray, and for whom religion seems to have had a charm above every thing else, were so effectual, that Jeanne Marie now thought, as she expresses it,  "of giving herself to God in good earnest."  The day at length arrived; she felt that the occasion was too important to be trifled with; she made an outward confession of her sins, with apparent sincerity and devoutness, and partook of the sacramental element for the first time with a considerable degree of satisfaction. But the result showed that the heart was not reached. The day of her redemption had not come. The season and its solemnity passed away, without leaving an effectual impression. The sleeping passions were again awaked. "My faults and failings," she says, "were soon repeated, and drew me off from the care and the duties of religion." She grew tall; her features began to develop themselves into that beauty which afterwards distinguished her. Her mother, pleased with her appearance, indulged her in dress.. The combined power of her personal and mental attractions were felt in the young and unreflecting attachments of persons of the other sex. The world resumed its influence, and Christ was in a great degree forgotten.

Such are the changes which often take place in the early history of religious experience. To-day there are serious thoughts, awakened and quickened feelings, and good resolutions; everything wears a propitious aspect. To-morrow, purposes are abandoned, feelings vanish; and the reality of the world takes the place of the anticipations of religion. Today the hearts of mothers and sisters, and of other friends, who have labored long and prayed earnestly for the salvation of those who are dear to them, are cheered and gladdened. To-morrow they find the solicitations to pleasure prevailing over the exhortations to virtue; and those who had been serious and humble for a time, returning again to the world. But it is often the case, that these alternations of feeling, which it is not easy always to explain, have an important connection, under the administration of a higher and divine providence, with the most favorable results.

They may, in many cases, be regarded as constituting a necessary part of that inward training, which the soul must pass through, before it reaches the position of true submission and of permanent love. They show us the great strength of that attachment which binds us to attractions which perish, the things of time and sense. They leave a deep impression of the forbearance and long-suffering of God. They teach the necessity of the special and powerful operations of divine grace, without which the heart, naturally alienated from all attachment to the true object of its love, would perish in its worldly idolatry.

— edited from The Life of Madam Guyon Volume 1, Chapter 2.