The Practice of the Presence of God
The first time I saw Brother Lawrence was upon the third of August 1666. He told me.
That we should establish ourselves in a sense of God’s Presence, by continually conversing with Him. That it was a shameful thing to quit His conversation to think of trifles and fooleries.
That we should feed and nourish our souls with high notions of God; which would yield us great joy in being devoted to Him.
That we ought to quicken, i.e. to enliven our faith. That it was lamentable that we had so little; and that instead of taking faith for the rule of their conduct, men amused themselves with trivial devotions, which changed daily. That the way of faith was the spirit of the Church, and that it was sufficient to bring us to a high degree of perfection.
That we ought to give ourselves up entirely to God, with regard both to things temporal and spiritual, and seek our satisfaction only in the fulfilling of His will, whether He lead us by suffering or by consolation; for all would be equal to a soul truly resigned. That there was need of fidelity in those times of dryness, or insensibility and irksomeness in prayer, by which God tries our love to Him: that then was the time for us to make good and effectual acts of resignation, whereof one alone would oftentimes very much promote our spiritual advancement.
That as for the miseries and sins he heard of daily in the world, he was so far from wondering at them, that, on the contrary, he was surprised that there were not more, considering the malice sinners were capable of: that for his part, he prayed for them; but knowing that God could remedy the mischiefs they did, when He pleased, he gave himself no farther trouble.
That to arrive at such resignation as God requires, we should watch attentively over all the passions, which mingle as well in spiritual things as those of a grosser nature; that God would give light concerning those passions to those who truly desire to serve Him. That if this was my design, viz., sincerely to serve God, I might come to him (B. Lawrence) as often as I pleased, without any fear of being troublesome; but, if not, that I ought no more to visit him.
Brother Lawrence, or Nicholas Herman of Lorraine (1611–1691)—Low-born Frenchman and Carmelite monk, Brother Lawrence lived a saintly life, which is reflected in his writings.
The Authority of the Bible
To attempt to free His sayings from their relativity to the particular situation is often to blunt their edge rather than to bring out their universality.
To take an example: there is a saying reported several times in the Gospels, about “bearing the cross.” Luke, intent on applying it directly to the situation of his readers, represents Jesus as saying that His follower must “take up his cross daily and follow me.” That rendering of the saying has largely influenced its application. It has been taken to refer to habitual forms of self-sacrifice or self-denial. The ascetic voluntarily undergoing austerities felt himself to be bearing his daily cross. We shallower folk have often reduced it to a metaphor for casual unpleasantnesses which we have to bear. A neuralgia or a defaulting servant is our “cross,” and we make a virtue of necessity. What Jesus actually said, according to our earliest evidence, was, quite bluntly, “Whoever wants to follow me must shoulder his gallows-beam”—for such is perhaps the most significant rendering of the word for “cross.” It meant a beam which a condemned criminal carried to the place of execution, to which he was then nailed until he died. Jesus was not using the term metaphorically. Under Rome, crucifixion was the likeliest fate for those who defied the established powers. Nor did those who heard understand that He was asking for “daily” habits of austerity. He was enrolling volunteers for a desperate venture and He wished them to understand that in joining it they must hold their lives forfeit. To march behind Him on that journey was as good as to tie a halter around one’s neck. It was a saying for an emergency. A similar emergency may arise for some Christians in any age. In such a situation it is immediately applicable, in its original form and meaning. For most of us, in normal situations, it is not so applicable. But it is surely good for us to go back and understand that this is what Christ stood for in His day. We shall then at least not suppose that we are meeting His demands in our day by bearing a toothache bravely or fasting during Lent.
Charles Harold Dodd (1884–1973)—Professor at Cambridge and lecturer at Oxford, Congregationalist pastor and biblical scholar, Dodd was the general director of the New English Bible translation.
The Country Parson
The Country Parson preaches constantly, the pulpit is his joy and his throne: if he at any time intermit, it is either for want of health, or against some great Festival, that he may the better celebrate it, or for the variety of the hearers, that he may be heard at his return more attentively. When he intermits, he is ever very well supplied by some able man who treads in his steps, and will not throw down what he has built; whom also he entreats to press some point, that he himself has often urged with no great success, that so in the mouth of two or three witnesses the truth may be more established. When he preaches, he procures attention by all possible art, both by earnestness of speech, it being natural to men to think, that where is much earnestness, there is something worth hearing; and by a diligent, and busy cast of his eye on his auditors, with letting them know, that he observes who marks, and who not; and with particularizing of his speech now to the younger sort, then to the elder, now to the poor, and now to the rich. This is for you, and This is for you; for particulars ever touch, and awake more than generals. Herein also he serves himself of the judgments of God, as of those of ancient times, so especially of the late ones; and those most, which are nearest to his Parish; for people are very attentive at such discourses, and think it behooves them to be so, when God is so near them, and even over their heads. Sometimes he tells them stories, and sayings of others, according as his text invites him; for them also men heed, and remember better than exhortations; which though earnest, yet often die with the Sermon, especially with Country people; which are thick, and heavy, and hard to raise to a point of Zeal, and fervency, and need a mountain of fire to kindle them; but stories and sayings they will well remember. He often tells them, that Sermons are dangerous things, that none goes out of Church as he came in, but either better, or worse; that none is careless before his Judge, and that the word of God shall judge us. By these and other means the Parson procures attention; but the character of his Sermon is Holiness; he is not witty, or learned, or eloquent, but Holy.
George Herbert (1593–1633)—Anglican rector of the parish church of Bremerton, near Salisbury, Herbert was one of the seventeenth-century metaphysical poets.
Miscellaneous Writings
The more his heart is trained to be sensitive to divine influences, the happier man is; the further he pushes his preparation, the higher he ascends in the scale of happiness.
But no man can be sensitive to divine influence except by conforming to God, and in proportion to his conformity he is sensitive to divine influence. Conformity comes of submission to God. The more subject to creatures a man is, the less he conforms to God, but the pure, disinterested heart, being void of creatures, is constantly worshiping God and conforming to him, and is therefore sensitive to his influence. That is what St. Paul means by saying: “Put on the Lord Jesus Christ”—that is, conform to Christ! Remember that when Christ became man, he was not one man but took all human nature on himself. If you get out, therefore, and clear of creatures, what Christ took on himself will be left to you and you will have to put on Christ.
If any man will see the excellence and use of perfect disinterest, let him take seriously what Christ said to his disciples about his humanity: “It is expedient for you that I go away: for if I go not away, the Comforter will not come unto you”—as if he said: “You take too much pleasure in my visible form and therefore the perfect pleasure of the Holy Spirit cannot be yours.” Therefore discard the form and be joined to the formless essence, for the spiritual comfort of God is very subtle and is not extended except to those who despise physical comforts.
Johannes Eckhart (ca. 1260–1327)—Meister (Master) Eckhart was a German theologian, mystic, Dominican preacher, and professor of theology at Parisian University. He was arraigned for heresy late in life, and his writings were condemned by the Catholic Church after his death.
The School of Charity
“My Lord!” says St. Thomas, seeing, touching, and measuring the Holiness so meekly shown to him in his own crude terms; and then, passing beyond that sacramental revelation to the unseen, untouched, unmeasured, uttering the word every awakened soul longs to utter—“My God!” The very heart of the Christian revelation is disclosed in that scene.
So it is that the real mark of spiritual triumph is not an abstraction from this world, but a return to it; a willing use of its conditions as material for the expression of love. There is nothing high-minded about Christian holiness. It is most at home in the slum, the street, the hospital ward: and the mysteries through which its gifts are distributed are themselves chosen from among the most homely realities of life. A little water, some fragments of bread, and a chalice of wine are enough to close the gap between two worlds; and give soul and senses a trembling contact with the Eternal Charity. By means of these its creatures, that touch still cleanses, and that hand still feeds. The serene, unhurried, self-imparting which began before Gethsemane continues still. Either secretly or sacramentally, every Christian is a link in the chain of perpetual penitents and perpetual communicants through which the rescuing Love reaches out to the world. Perhaps there is no more certain mark of a mature spirituality than the way in which those who possess it are able to enter a troubled situation and say, “Peace,” or turn from the exercise of heroic love to meet the humblest needs of men.
Evelyn Underhill (1875–1941)—Anglican mystic and philosopher of religion, Underhill was the first woman granted lecture status at Oxford University; she was also a fellow of King’s College, London. Underhill authored thirty-nine books on church history and Christian mysticism.
The Poetical Works
Sorrow of saints is sorrow of a day,
Gladness of saints is gladness evermore:
Send on your hope, send on your will before,
To chant God’s praise along the narrow way.
Stir up His praises if the flesh would sway,
Exalt His praises if the world press sore,
Peal out His praises if black Satan roar
A hundred thousand lies to say them nay.
Devil and Death and Hades, three-fold cord
Not quickly broken, front you to your face;
Front thou them with a face of tenfold flint:
Shout for the battle, David! never stint.
Body or breath or blood, but, proof in grace,
Die for your Lord, as once for you your Lord.
Christina Rossetti (1830–1894)—Sister of the Pre-Raphaelite Dante Gabriel Rossetti, Christina Rossetti was a notable Victorian poet whose work, while often melancholy and erotic, is filled with rich spirituality.
The Writings
Chapter V. That no one should be proud, but rather glory in the Cross of the Lord Be attentive, oh man, to how many excellent things the Lord God has placed in you, since He created and formed you “to the image” of His own Beloved Son according to the body “and to (His) likeness” according to the spirit (cf. Gen. 1:26). And all the creatures, which are under heaven, after you serve, know and obey their Creator better than you. And even the demons did not crucify Him, but you with them have crucified Him and even now you crucify (Him) by delighting in vices and sins. Whence therefore can you glory? For if you were so subtle and wise that you had “all knowledge” (cf. 1 Cor. 13:2) and knew how to interpret every “kind of tongue” (cf. 1 Cor. 12:28) and to search subtly after celestial things, in all these things you cannot glory; since one demon knew of celestial things and now knows of earthly things more than all men, (even) granted that there has been someone, who received from the Lord a special understanding of the highest wisdom. Similarly even if you were more handsome and wealthy than all and even if you were working miracles, as would put demons to flight, all those things are injurious to you and nothing (about them) pertains to you and you can glory in them not at all. But in this we can glory, “in” our “infirmities” (cf. 2 Cor. 12:5) and bearing each day the Holy Cross of our Lord Jesus Christ (Lk. 14:27).
Chapter VI. On the imitation of the Lord
Let us be attentive, all friars, to the Good Shepherd, who to save His own sheep endured the Passion of the Cross. The sheep of the Lord have followed Him in tribulation and persecution, shame and hunger, in infirmity and temptation and all other things; and because of these they have received from the Lord everlasting life. Whence it is a great shame to us servants of God, that the saints did the works, but we, by reciting them, want to receive the glory and honor.
Francis of Assisi (1181–1226)—Roman Catholic saint, preacher, and founder of the Franciscan Order, Francis ministered throughout Europe and traveled as far as the Holy Land. His friars were required to take vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience.
Your God Is Too Small
Many moralists, both Christian and non-Christian, have pointed out the decline in our moral sense, observed in recent years. It is at least arguable that this is almost wholly due to the decline in the first-hand absorption of Christian ideals. True Christianity has never had a serious rival in the training of the moral sense which exists in ordinary people.
Yet there are many, even among professing Christians, who are made miserable by a morbidly developed conscience, which they quite wrongly consider to be the voice of God. Many a housewife overdrives herself to please some inner voice that demands perfection. The voice may be her own demands or the relics of childhood training, but it certainly is not likely to be the voice of the Power behind the Universe.
On the other hand, the middle-aged business man who has long ago taught his conscience to come to heel may persuade himself that he is a good-living man. He may even say, with some pride, that he would never do anything against his conscience. But it is impossible to believe that the feeble voice of the half-blind thing which he calls a conscience is in any real sense the voice of God.
Surely neither the hectically over-developed nor the falsely-trained, nor the moribund conscience can ever be regarded as God, or even part of Him. For if it is, God can be made to appear to the sensitive an over-exacting tyrant, and to the insensitive a comfortable accommodating “Voice Within” which would never interfere with a man’s pleasure.
John Bertram Phillips (1906–1982)—This Bible translator, author, and broadcaster was an acquaintance of C. S. Lewis and claimed to have had a visitation by Lewis’s apparition after his death. Lewis wrote the introduction to Phillips’s Letters to Young Churches.
Religious Essays
The holiness demanded by Isaiah, and thenceforth the holiness demanded by the scriptures as the ideal of man, and therefore also “the better righteousness” of the gospel, is rather in its essential nature a peculiar direction of the interest and will and feeling as a whole, which, indefinable in itself, we symbolize in the expressions: “not to be worldly,” “not to be of this world,” not to be fleshly but to be “spiritual,” to be ruled by the “spirit.” Such an ideal of “spirituality” is quite distinctly already perceptible in Isaiah, bearing just those traits which the opponents of this ideal, especially the pure moralists, have always resented in it. With Isaiah it makes itself felt characteristically in certain antipathies to things valued by “worldly” persons, which have at all times recurred as a mark of “spiritual” persons. The antipathies which we have in mind, and which reflect the nature of that ideal, take concrete form in Isaiah’s remarkable invective against what we should call fashion and modernity. Fashionable clothing, modern luxury, the twanging of the new big Egyptian harps, the ivory bedsteads and the horses imported from Egypt are hateful to him. Isaiah detests politics, the diplomacy of the Court, his people’s predilection for treaty-mongering, the running after the great ones of the earth. He detests these things because they lead men astray, causing them to trust in the might of men rather than in ruach and in the power of God. He hates them because all this is “flesh,” because Israel seeks thereby to be “like other peoples” instead of being spiritual and holding aloof from such worldly business.
He demands “holiness,” and holiness is to be shown primarily in fulfilling the injunctions of simple social morality. But that is not an end in itself, the aim is thereby to fulfil the “will of Jahveh” and to serve His honor. It is incorporated in the higher idea of being a people of Jahveh, appropriated to Jahveh, a sanctified group withdrawn from the world. Its ideal is to enter into a higher state, a state of consecration, an idealized order of Nazirites embracing the whole people, which is to be withdrawn from all profane contact in accordance with the words of Exodus 19:6: “And you shall be unto Me a kingdom of priests, and a holy nation.”
Rudolph Otto (1869–1937)—German Protestant theologian, philosopher, and educator, Otto studied non-Christian religions, focusing particularly on religious experience.
A Serious Call to a Devout and Holy Life
How is it possible for a man who intends to please God financially to bury his money in finery? This is just as impossible as a person who intends to please God with his words, then meets other people with swearing and lying. All wasting and unreasonable spending are done deliberately.
I have chosen to explain the problem of unholy living by appealing to intention, for it makes the case so plain. It is easy for an employee to know whether he intends to please his employer in all his actions. Likewise, a Christian can certainly know if he intends to please God with his life.
Consider two people; one prays regularly and the other doesn’t. The difference between them is not that the one has the physical strength required to pray and the other doesn’t. The difference is simply that one intends to please God by praying, and the other one doesn’t.
One person throws away his time and money on useless diversions. Another person is careful of every hour and uses his money for charity. The difference is not that one has power over his time and money and the other doesn’t; it is that one desires to please God, and the other one doesn’t.
The problem of unholy living does not stem from the fact that we desire to use money and time wisely, but fail due to the weaknesses of human nature. The problem is that we do not intend to be as responsible and devout as we can.
I do not mean to suggest that human intention can take the place of divine grace. Nor do I mean to say that through pure intention we can make ourselves perfect. I am simply saying that lack of desire to please God causes irregularities that by grace we should have the power to avoid.
William Law (1686–1761)—Law was educated at Cambridge and later became a fellow of the university. Law was ordained as an Anglican clergyman and is best known for his devotional classics, especially A Serious Call to a Devout and Holy Life, which influenced Samuel Johnson and the Wesleys as well as Lewis.
Introduction to the Devout Life
In God’s name, would you forfeit the eternal glory that God will certainly give you? The worthless amusements on which you have hitherto wasted your time will again come to lure your heart away and ask it to return to them. Can you resolve to reject eternal happiness for such deceitful and trivial things? You may take my word, if you persevere it will not be long before you obtain consolations so delicious and pleasing that you will acknowledge that the world is mere gall compared to such honey and that a single day of devotion is better than a thousand years of worldly life.
You see that the mountain of Christian perfection is very lofty and you say “O God, how shall I be able to climb it!” Courage, Philothea! When young bees begin to take form they are called nymphs and they cannot yet fly out among the flowers, mountains, or nearby hills to gather honey. Little by little, by continuing to eat honey the older bees have prepared, the little nymphs take on wings and grow strong so that later they fly all over the country in search of food. It is true that in devotion we are still only little bees and cannot fly up high according to our plan, which is nothing less than to reach the peak of Christian perfection. But as our desires and resolutions begin to take form and our wings start to grow, we hope that some day we shall become spiritual bees and be able to fly aloft. In the meantime let us feed on honey found in works of instruction that devout persons of ancient days have left us. Let us pray to God to give us “wings like a dove” not only to fly upward during the time of our present life but also to find repose in the eternity that is to come.
Francis de Sales (1567–1622)—Roman Catholic saint, bishop, preacher, and author, Francis was born in Sales, France, and was elected bishop of Geneva in 1602.
Abide in Christ
Christian, fear not to claim God’s promises to make you holy. Listen not to the suggestion that the corruption of your old nature would render holiness an impossibility. In your flesh dwells no good thing, and that flesh, though crucified with Christ, is not yet dead, but will continually seek to rise and lead you to evil. But the Father is the Husbandman. He has grafted the life of Christ on your life. That holy life is mightier than your evil life; under the watchful care of the Husbandman, that new life can keep down the workings of the evil life within you. The evil nature is there, with its unchanged tendency to rise up and show itself. But the new nature is there too,—the living Christ, your sanctification, is there,—and through Him all your powers can be sanctified as they rise into life, and be made to bear fruit to the glory of the Father.
And now, if you would live a holy life, abide in Christ your sanctification. Look upon Him as the Holy One of God, made man that He might communicate to us the holiness of God. Listen when Scripture teaches that there is within you a new nature, a new man, created in Christ Jesus in righteousness and true holiness. Remember that this holy nature which is in you is singularly fitted for living a holy life, and performing all holy duties, as much so as the old nature is for doing evil.
Andrew Murray (1828–1917)—Evangelical and leader in the South African Dutch Reformed Church, Murray was educated in Scotland and Holland. He served several pastorates and was six times the moderator of the Reformed Church.
Holy Living
God is especially present in the hearts of his people, by his Holy Spirit: and indeed the hearts of holy men are temples in the truth of things, and, in type and shadow, they are heaven itself. For God reigns in the hearts of his servants: there is his kingdom. The power of grace has subdued all his enemies: there is his power. They serve him night and day, and give him thanks and praise: that is his glory. This is the religion and worship of God in the temple. The temple itself is the heart of man; Christ is the High Priest, who from there sends up the incense of prayers, and joins them to his own intercession, and presents all together to his Father; and the Holy Ghost, by his dwelling there, has also consecrated it into a temple; and God dwells in our hearts by faith, and Christ by his Spirit, and the Spirit by his purities; so that we are also cabinets of the mysterious Trinity; and what is this short of heaven itself, but as infancy is short of manhood, and letters of words? The same state of life it is, but not the same age. It is heaven in a looking-glass, dark, but yet true, representing the beauties of the soul, and the graces of God, and the images of his eternal glory, by the reality of a special presence.
Jeremy Taylor (1613–1667)—After his education at Cambridge, Taylor became an Anglican bishop and a prolific writer and served in ministry during the turbulent years of the English Civil War. William Mason called him the “Shakespeare of English prose,” and Samuel Taylor Coleridge spoke of him as the “Spenser of Prose.”
A Serious Call to a Devout and Holy Life
It is not Christianity that makes life anxious or uncomfortable, but the lack of it.
Many people believe a moderate dose of Christianity—not an excessive amount—will fulfill our lives. They believe vaulting ambition to be bad, but moderate ambition good. One might as well say that excessive pain hurts, but moderate pain feels good.
Another possible objection to rules for holy living is that so many things in this world are good. Created by God, they should be used; but following strict guidelines limits our enjoyment of them.
In effect, Christianity teaches us how to properly use the world. It teaches us what is strictly right about food, drink, clothing, housing, employment, and other items. We learn to expect no more from them than they can properly provide.
The Scriptures tell us that although this world can satisfy physical needs, there is a much greater good prepared for mankind, reserved for us to enjoy when this short life is over. Christianity teaches that this state of glory awaits those who do not blind themselves with gold dust or eat gravel or load themselves with chains in their pain—in other words, those who use things rightly and reasonably.
If Christianity calls us to a life of prayer and watchfulness, it is only because we are surrounded by enemies and always in need of God’s assistance. If we are to confess our sins, it is because such confessions relieve the mind and restore it to ease, just as weights taken off the shoulders relieve the body.
If prayer were not important, we would not be called to continue in it. When we consider that the other things we do are primarily or solely for the body, we should rejoice at prayer—it raises us above these poor concerns and opens our minds to heavenly things.
How ignorant people are to think that a life of strict devotion is dull and without comfort. It is plain that there is neither comfort nor joy to be found in anything else!
William Law (1686–1761)—Law was educated at Cambridge and later became a fellow of the university. Law was ordained as an Anglican clergyman and is best known for his devotional classics, especially A Serious Call to a Devout and Holy Life, which influenced Samuel Johnson and the Wesleys as well as Lewis.