Crucified to Holiness Itself

But perhaps the most decisive mark of the truly crucified man is, that he is crucified even to holiness itself. That is to say, he desires God only, seeks God only, is satisfied and can be satisfied with God only, in distinction from those truly spiritual gifts or graces, which God by his Holy Spirit imparts to the soul.

The truly devout man, for instance, exercises penitence, submission, gratitude, forgiveness, and other Christian graces on their appropriate occasions; and he has great reason to be thankful to God that he is enabled to do it. But if in some moment of inward forgetfulness, of religious “irrecollection,” if we may so term it, he turns the thoughts and the interests of his heart from God to the graces which God gives, and begins to take complacency in his religious exercises, and to be happy in his holiness and to love his holiness, instead of a fixed and exclusive love for the Author of his holiness, I think we may confidently say, he is no longer a man dead to self, no longer in the proper sense of the terms a man inwardly crucified. 

“The purer our gifts are,” says Fenelon, “the more jealous God is of our appropriating or directing them to ourselves. The most eminent graces are the most deadly poisons, if we rest in them and regard them with complacency. It is the sin of the fallen angels. They only turned to themselves, and regarded their state with complacency. At that instant they fell from heaven, and became the enemies of God.”

— from The Life of Faith, Part 2, Chapter 12.

Inward Crucifixion and Inward Consolations

Those, who are the subjects of inward crucifixion, do not seek, and do not value inward consolations in themselves considered. “It is written,” says the Savior, “man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of God.” Consolation is the attendant of religion, but it is not religion itself. Religion, in its highest sense, implies an entire union with the will of God. The true food of our souls is God’s commandment, which is only another name for God’s will. A desire of any thing, and complacency in any thing, which does not place God’s will first, is infidelity to God’s claims. Holy joy is not a thing, which comes by volition; but by a necessary law. If our hearts are right with God, such joy will always come in its appropriate place; not because it is called or willed, but because it cannot help coming. It is a thing which flows from holiness as from its natural fountain. The truly crucified man, therefore, is right in seeking the fountain first. Holiness is something which must be desired and sought for itself; something, which must stand, independently of its pleasant results, first in the mind’s eye, first in the heart’s affections.

— from The Life of Faith, Part 2, Chapter 12.

Inward Crucifixion and Adverse Circumstances

The inwardly crucified man receives with entire acquiescence and peace of spirit all adverse occurrences of whatever nature, the misrepresentations and rebukes of his fellow-men, the various injuries of body and estate, the disappointments of broken friendship and violated faith, the natural and unavoidable disruptions of social and family ties, and whatever other forms of human affliction exist. Whatever comes upon him, he feels that he deserves it. He opens not his mouth, except to praise the hand that is laid upon him. Satan, it is true, avails himself of the trials of his situation, and tempts him to evil thoughts; but he is enabled with divine assistance to resist them and to triumph over them. It seems to him a light thing to suffer any thing which God sees fit to impose. It is true, that the trials which he endures sometimes occasion sorrow and even deep sorrow; but it is a sorrow which is consistent with reconciliation to his lot and even happiness; a sorrow without repining, grief without bitterness.

— from The Life of Faith, Part 2, Chapter 12.

Inward Crucifixion and Worldly Honors

The truly crucified man, like the truly humble man, does not desire great or eminent things for himself; but deeply sensible of his unworthiness and dependence, it is entirely natural to him, in his new state of feeling, to seek, and to take the lowest place. 

In other words, as one of the results of his being crucified with Christ, he is dead to the perception and the pursuit of worldly honors. If, however, God should see fit, in his providence, to call him to a conspicuous and important station in the world, as he did anciently some of his pious servants, the fact of inward crucifixion would leave him no choice but the divine choice, no will but the divine will. He is entirely acquiescent, and not only acquiescent but rejoices alike in what God gives, and in what he takes away; because he esteems all things which he has, whether it be more or less, whether it be regarded by the world as honor or dishonor, in the light of a gift from God, and looks upon it as valuable only as it is subservient to God’s glory.

— from The Life of Faith, Part 2, Chapter 12.

Inward Crucifixion and False Self-Confidence

We have already, without referring to the subject [of inward crucifixion] by name, in part explained what is to be understood by inward crucifixion in the remarks, which have been made upon the suppression of the inordinate exercises of the appetites and affections. Such appetites and affections, without being extinguished, are reduced to their true position; and are no longer the recipients of any life or any law but what comes from God. But this is not all; nor is it a principal part of what is implied in it. 

The process of inward crucifixion destroys and removes many other evils, to which our nature is exposed. Without going into a full detail of them, we may be allowed to say, among other things that it implies the destruction and removal of that feeling of SELF-CONFIDENCE, which is so natural to the heart that is not fully the Lord’s. Least of all things does the man, who has undergone the process of inward crucifixion, place a high estimate, a self-confident estimate, on his own strength, his own perseverance, his own wisdom. Every feeling of that kind, which once characterized his proud nature, has passed away. So much so, that, so far from cherishing them, even the recollection of them is painful.

 — from The Life of Faith, Part 2, Chapter 12.

 

Inward Crucifixion and Suffering

The term crucifixion implies suffering. The crucifixion of our inward nature cannot take place without the experience of suffering. The suffering, which we experience, is mental, and is analogous to that, which we experience at any and all times, when our desires are crossed and disappointed. It is the pain or suffering of ceasing to be what we have been by nature, and what by nature we have loved to be. A desire, a love, a passion, disappointed of its object, is always a sufferer. Such is the natural law in the case. And the intensity of the pain will be in proportion to the intensity of the passion. If we loved the world with but little strength, if we were bound to it but by slight adhesion, the process, which sunders this attachment, and disappoints this love, would give but slight pain. But bound as we are in fact with a tie which reaches forth from the heart to its object with the first moment of life, and which grows stronger and stronger with every pulsation, until it embodies, if we may so express it, the whole strength of the soul, the pain of separation, which corresponds to the strength of the previous attachment, is keen and intense indeed. The suffering of a parent, who sees all his attachments and hopes expiring in the death of a beloved child, are not keener. Hence in experiencing the new inward life, we are said to be crucified to that which went before; not only because we die to it, but because in dying to it we suffer.

Inward Crucifixion

A soul, right with God, is a soul crucified. A soul right with God, is a soul, which, in having undergone a painful death to every worldly tie, is a soul, which may be described, in the figurative sense, as being nailed to the cross. The crucifixion of the outward life, by a separation from outward error, and by doing right outwardly, is of far less consequence, in itself considered, and far less painful than the crucifixion of the inward life by doing and being right inwardly.

The subject of inward crucifixion is one of no small interest and importance. It is a subject, which very seldom fails to receive a due share of notice in those devout writers, who have endeavored to analyze and explain Christian experience. In some writers, especially that remarkable class who are usually denominated the Mystics, and are so denominated, more than for any other reason, in consequence of their insisting so much on a new spiritual life in distinction from the old sensual life, it is a theme of especial interest and remark. Some of these writers, particularly Tauler, John of the Cross, Canfield, Catharine of Genoa, and Madame Guyon, denounce the natural life, the Old Adam, as they sometimes denominate man’s fallen nature, with an unsparing, unmitigated eloquence, which, as it seems to us, finds no parallel except in the solemn and overwhelming denunciations of the Scriptures. They attack it with the weapons of argument also, and with a keen and hostile inspection, as well as with denunciation. They pursue it into its hidden places. They detect it under its hidden disguises. They reject all its excuses, all its flattering speeches, all its insinuating applications for a little forbearance, a little lenity. They are not satisfied, because they think and know, that God is not satisfied, until they see it dying and dead on the Cross. “If any man,” says the Savior, “will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross daily, and follow me.” Luke 9:23. The Apostle Paul says, referring to the trials he was called to endure, “I die daily.”

— from The Life of Faith, Part 2, Chapter 12.