Short and Easy Method of Prayer — Chapters 16 & 17

CHAPTER XVI.

THIS STATE OF PRAYER NOT ONE OF IDLENESS, BUT OF NOBLE ACTION, WROUGHT BY THE SPIRIT OF GOD, AND IN DEPENDENCE UPON HIM--THE COMMUNICATION OF HIS LIFE AND UNION.

Some people, hearing of the prayer of silence, have wrongly imagined that the soul remains _inactive_, _lifeless_, and _without movement_.

But the truth is, that its action is more noble and more extensive than it ever was before it entered this degree, since it is moved by God Himself, and acted upon by His Spirit.

St Paul desires that we should be _led by the Spirit of God_ (Rom.

viii.

14).

I do not say that there must be no action, but that we must act in dependence upon the divine movement.

This is admirably set forth by Ezekiel.

The prophet saw wheels which had the spirit of life, and wherever this spirit was to go, they went; they went on, or stood, or were lifted up, as they were moved, for the spirit of life was in them: but they never went back (see Ezek.

i.

19-21).

It should be the same with the soul: it should suffer itself to be moved and guided by the living Spirit who is in it, following His direction, and no other.

Now this Spirit will never lead it to go backwards, that is, to reflect upon the creature, or to lean upon itself, but always to go forward, pressing continually towards the mark.

This action of the soul is a restful action.

When it acts of itself, it acts with effort; and is therefore more conscious of its action.

But when it acts in dependence upon the Spirit of grace, its action is so free, so easy, so natural, that it does not seem to act at all.

"He brought me forth also into a large place; He delivered me, because He delighted in me" (Ps.

xviii.

19).

As soon as the soul has commenced its course towards its centre,[2] from that moment its action becomes vigorous--that is, its course towards the centre which attracts it, which infinitely surpasses the velocity of any other movement.

2. See chap.

ix.

It is action then, but an action so _noble_, so _peaceful_, so _tranquil_, that it seems to the soul as though it were not acting at all; because it rests, as it were, naturally.

When a wheel is only turning with a moderate speed, it can easily be distinguished; but when it goes quickly, no part of it can be distinctly seen.

So the soul which remains at rest in God has an action infinitely noble and exalted, yet very peaceful.

The greater its peace, the greater is its velocity, because it is abandoned to the Spirit, who moves it and makes it act.

This Spirit is God Himself, who draws us, and in drawing makes us run to Him, as the Bride well knew when she said, "Draw me, we will run" (Cant.

i.

4).

Draw me, O my Divine Centre, by my inmost heart: my powers and my sensibilities will run at Thy attraction!

This attraction alone is a balm which heals me, and a perfume which draws.

"We will run," she says, "because of the savour of Thy good ointments."

This attracting virtue is _very strong_ but the soul follows it _very gladly_; and as it is equally strong and sweet, it attracts by its strength and delights by its sweetness.

The Bride says, "Draw me, we will run."

She speaks of herself, and to herself: "Draw _me_;" there is the unity of the object which is attracted: "_We_ will run;" there is the correspondence of all the powers and sensibilities which follow in the train of the centre of the heart.

It is not then a question of remaining in idleness, but of acting _in dependence upon the Spirit of God_, who animates us, since it is in Him that "we live, and move, and have our being" (Acts xvii.

23).

This calm dependence upon the Spirit of God is absolutely necessary, and causes the soul in a short time to attain the simplicity and unity in which it was created.

It was created one and simple, like God.

In order, then, to answer the end of our creation, we must quit the multiplicity of our own actions, to enter into the simplicity and unity of God, in whose image we were created (Gen. i.

27).

The Spirit of God is "one only," "yet manifold" (Wisdom of Solomon vii.

22), and its unity does not prevent its multiplicity.

We enter into God's unity when we are united to His Spirit, because then we have the same Spirit that He has; and we are multiplied outwardly, as regards His dispositions, without leaving the unity.

So that, as God acts infinitely, and we are of one spirit with Him, we act much more than we could do by our own action.

We must suffer ourselves to be guided by Wisdom.

This "Wisdom" is more moving than any motion (Wisdom of Solomon vii.

24).

Let us, then, remain in dependence upon His action, and our action will be vigorous indeed.

"All things were made by (the Word); and without Him was not anything made that was made" (John i. 3).

God, in creating us, created us in His image, after His likeness (Gen. i.

26).

He gave to us the Spirit of the Word by the breath of life (Gen. ii.

7), which He breathed into us when we were created in the image of God, by the participation of the life of the Word, who is the image of His Father.

Now this life is one, simple, pure, intimate, and fruitful.

The devil having disfigured this beautiful image, it became necessary that this same Word, whose breath had been breathed into us at our creation, should come to restore it.

It was necessary that it should be He, because He is the image of the Father; and a defaced image cannot be repaired by its own action, but by the action of him who seeks to restore it.

Our _action_ then should be, to _put ourselves_ into a position to suffer the action of God, and to allow the Word to retrace His image in us.

An image, if it could move, would by its movement prevent the sculptor's perfecting it.

Every movement of our own hinders the work of the Heavenly Sculptor, and produces false features.

We must then remain silent, and only move as He moves us.

Jesus Christ has _life in Himself_ (John v. 26), and He must communicate life to all who live.

That this action is the most noble cannot be denied.

Things are only of value as the principle in which they originate is noble, grand, and elevated.

Actions committed by a divine principle are _divine actions_;

whereas the actions of the creature, however good they may appear, are _human actions_ or at best they are virtuous actions, if they are done with the help of grace.

Jesus says that He has life in Himself; all other beings have but a borrowed life, but the Word has life in Himself; and as He is communicative, He desires to communicate this life to men.

We must then give place to this life, that it may flow in us, which can only be done by evacuation, and the loss of the life of Adam and of our own action, as St Paul assures us: "If any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold all things are become new" (2 Cor.

v.

17).

This can only be brought about by the death of ourselves and of our own action, that the action of God may be substituted for it.

We do not profess, then, to be without action, but only to act in dependence upon the Spirit of God, suffering His action to take the place of our own.

Jesus shows us this in the gospel.

Martha did good things, but because she did them of her own spirit, Christ reproved her for them.

The spirit of man is turbulent and boisterous; therefore it does little, though it appears to do much.

"Martha, Martha," said Jesus, "thou art careful and troubled about many things; but one thing is needful; and Mary hath chosen that good part, which shall not be taken away from her" (Luke x. 41, 42).

What had she chosen, this Magdalene?

Peace, tranquillity, and repose.

She apparently ceased to act, that she might be moved by the Spirit of God; she ceased to live, that Christ might live in her.

This is why it is so necessary to renounce ourselves and all our own works to follow Jesus; for we cannot follow Him unless we are animated with His Spirit.

In order that the Spirit of Christ may dwell in us, our own spirit must give place to Him.

"He that is joined to the Lord," says St Paul, "is one spirit" (1 Cor.

vi.

17).

"It is good for me to draw near to God: I have put my trust in the Lord God" (Ps.

lxxiii.

28).

What is this "drawing near"?

It is the beginning of union.

Union has its beginning, its continuation, its completion, and its consummation.

The commencement of union is an inclination towards God.

When the soul is converted in the manner I have described, it has an inclination to its centre, and a strong tendency to union: this tendency is the commencement.

Then it adheres, which happens when it approaches nearer to God; then it is united to Him, and finally becomes one with Him--that is, it becomes one spirit with Him; and it is then that this spirit, which proceeded from God, returns to Him as its end.

It is, then, necessary that we should enter this way, which is the divine motion, and the Spirit of Jesus Christ.

St Paul says, "If any man have not the Spirit of Christ, he is none of His" (Rom.

viii.

9).

To be Christ's, then, we must suffer ourselves to be filled with His Spirit, and emptied of our own: our hearts must be evacuated.

St Paul, in the same place, proves to us the necessity of this divine motion: he says, "As many as are led by the Spirit of God, they are the sons of God" (Rom.

viii.

14).

The divinely-imparted Spirit is the Spirit of divine sonship; therefore, the same apostle continues, "Ye have not received the spirit of bondage again to fear; but ye have received the spirit of adoption, whereby we cry, Abba, Father" (Rom.

viii.

15).

This spirit is no other than the Spirit of Christ, by whom we participate in His Sonship; and this "Spirit itself beareth witness with our spirit that we are the sons of God."

As soon as the soul leaves itself to be moved by the Spirit of God, it experiences the witness of this divine sonship; and this witness serves the more to increase its joy, as it makes it know _that it is called to the liberty of the sons of God_, and that the spirit it has received is not a spirit of bondage, but of liberty.

The Spirit of the divine motion is so necessary for all things, that Paul founds this necessity upon our ignorance of the things that we ask for.

"The Spirit," he says, "helpeth our infirmities; for we know not what we should pray for as we ought; but the Spirit itself maketh intercession for us, with groanings which cannot be uttered."

This is conclusive: if we do not know what to pray for, nor how to ask as we ought for what is necessary for us, and if it is needful that the Spirit who is in us, to whose motion we abandon ourselves, should ask it for us, ought we not to leave Him to do it?

He does it "with groanings which cannot be uttered."

This Spirit is the Spirit of the Word, who is always heard, as He says Himself: "I know that Thou hearest me always" (John xi.

42).

If we leave it to the Spirit within us to ask and to pray, we shall always be answered.

Why so?

O great apostle, mystic teacher, so deeply taught in the inner life!

teach us why.

"It is," he adds, "because He that searcheth the hearts knoweth what is the mind of the Spirit, because He maketh intercession for the saints according to the will of God;" that is to say, this Spirit only asks that which it is God's will to give.

It is God's will that we should be saved and that we should be perfect.

He asks, then, for all that is necessary to our perfection.

Why, after this, should we be burdened with superfluous cares, and be wearied in the greatness of our way, without ever saying, There is no hope in ourselves, and therefore resting in God?

God Himself invites us to cast all our care upon Him, and He complains, in inconceivable goodness, that we employ our strength, our riches, and our treasure, in countless exterior things, although there is so little joy to be found in them all.

"Wherefore do ye spend money for that which is not bread, and your labour for that which satisfieth not?

Hearken diligently unto me, and eat ye that which is good, and let your soul delight itself in fatness" (Isa.

lv.

2).

Oh, if it were known what happiness there is in thus hearkening unto God, and how the soul is strengthened by it!

All flesh must be silent before the Lord (see Zech.

ii.

13).

All self-effort must cease when He appears.

In order still further to induce us to abandon ourselves to Him without reserve, God assures us that we need fear nothing from such abandonment, because He has a special individual care over each of us.

He says, "Can a woman forget her sucking-child, that she should not have compassion on the son of her womb?

Yea, she may forget, yet will I not forget thee" (Isa.

xlix.

15).

Ah, words full of consolation!

Who on hearing them can fear to abandon himself utterly to the guidance of God?

CHAPTER XVII.

DISTINCTION BETWEEN EXTERIOR AND INTERIOR ACTIONS--THOSE OF THE SOUL IN THIS CONDITION ARE INTERIOR, BUT HABITUAL, CONTINUED, DIRECT, PROFOUND, SIMPLE, AND IMPERCEPTIBLE--BEING A CONTINUAL SINKING IN THE OCEAN OF DIVINITY--SIMILITUDE OF A VESSEL--HOW TO ACT IN THE ABSENCE OF SENSIBLE SUPPORTS.

The actions of men are either exterior or interior.

The _exterior_ are those which appear outwardly, and have a sensible object, possessing neither good nor evil qualities, excepting as they receive them from the interior principle in which they originate.

It is not of these that I intend to speak, but only of interior actions, which are those actions of the soul by which it _applies itself_ inwardly to some object, or _turns away_ from some other.

When, being applied to God, I desire to commit an action of a different nature from those which He would prompt, I turn away from God, and I turn towards created things more or less according to the strength or weakness of my action.

If, being turned towards the creature, I wish to return to God, I must commit the action of turning away from the creature, and turning towards God; and thus the more perfect is this action, the more complete will be the conversion.

Until I am perfectly converted, I need several actions to turn me towards God.

Some are done all at once, others gradually; but my action ought to lead me to turn to God, employing all the strength of my soul for Him, as it is written, "Therefore even now, saith the Lord, turn ye even to me with all your heart" (Joel ii.

12).

"Thou shalt return unto the Lord thy God ...

with all thine heart and with all thy soul" (Deut.

xxx.

2).

God only asks for our heart: "My son, give me thy heart, and let thine eyes observe my ways" (Prov.

xxiii.

26).

To give the heart to God is to have its gaze, its strength, and its vigour all centred in Him, to follow His will.

We must, then, after we have applied to God, remain always turned towards Him.

But as the mind of man is weak, and the soul, being accustomed to turn towards earthly things, is easily turned away from God, it must, as soon as it perceives that it is turned towards outward things, resume its former position in God by a simple act of return to Him.

And as several repeated acts form a habit, the soul contracts a habit of conversion, and from action it passes to a habitual condition.

The soul, then, must not seek by means of any efforts or works of its own to come near to God; this is seeking to perform one action by means of others, instead of by a simple action remaining attached to God alone.

If we believe that we must commit no actions, we are mistaken, for _we are always acting_; but each one must act according to his degree.

I will endeavour to make this point clear, as, for want of understanding it, it presents a difficulty to many Christians.

There are _passing_ and _distinct_ actions, and _continued_ actions;

_direct_ acts and _reflected_ acts.

All cannot perform the first, and all are not in a condition to perform the others.

The first actions should be committed by those who are turned away from God.

They ought to turn to Him by a distinct action, more or less strong according to their distance from Him.

By a _continued_ action I understand that by which the soul is completely turned towards its God by a _direct_ action, which it does not renew, unless it has been interrupted, but which exists.

The soul being altogether turned in this way, is in love, and remains there: "And he that dwelleth in love, dwelleth in God" (1 John iv.

16).

Then the soul may be said to be in a habitual act, resting even in this action.

But its rest is not idle, for it has an action _always in force_, viz.

, _a gentle sinking in God_, in which God attracts it more and more strongly; and, following this attraction, and resting in love, it sinks more and more in this love, and has an action infinitely stronger, more vigorous, and more prompt, than that action which forms only the return.

Now the soul which is in this _profound and strong action_, being turned towards its God, does not perceive this action, because it is direct, and not reflex; so that persons in this condition, not knowing how rightly to describe it, say that _they have no action_.

But they are mistaken; they were never more active.

It would be better to say they do not distinguish any action, than that they do not commit any.

The soul does not act of itself, I admit; but it is drawn, and it follows the attracting power.

Love is the weight which sinks it, as a person who falls in the sea sinks, and would sink to infinity if the sea were infinite; and without perceiving its sinking, it would sink to the most profound depths with an incredible speed.

It is, then, incorrect to say that no actions are committed.

All commit actions, but all do not commit them in the same manner; and the abuse arises from the fact, that those who know that action is inevitable wish it to be _distinct_ and _sensible_.

But sensible action is for beginners, and the other for those more advanced.

To stop with the first would be to deprive ourselves of the last; and to wish to commit the last before having passed the first would be an equal abuse.

Everything must be done in its season; each state has its commencement, its progress, and its end.

There is no act which has not its beginning.

At first we must work with _effort_, but afterwards we enjoy the fruit of our labour.

When a vessel is in the harbour, the sailors have a difficulty in bringing it into the open sea; but once there, they easily turn it in the direction in which they wish to navigate.

So, when the soul is in sin, it needs an effort to drag it out; the cords which bind it must be loosened; then, by means of strong and vigorous action, it must be drawn within itself, little by little leaving the harbour, and being turned within, which is the place to which its voyage should be directed.

When the vessel is thus turned, in proportion as it advances in the sea, it leaves the land behind it, and the further it goes from the land, the less effort is needed to carry it along.

At last it begins to sail gently, and the vessel goes on so rapidly that the oars become useless.

What does the pilot do then?

He is contented with spreading the sails and sitting at the helm.

_Spreading the sails_ is simply laying ourselves before God, to be moved by His Spirit.

_Sitting at the helm_ is preventing our heart from leaving the right way, rowing it gently, and leading it according to the movement of the Spirit of God, who gradually takes possession of it, as the wind gradually fills the sails, and impels the vessel forward.

So long as the vessel sails before the wind, the mariners rest from their labour.

They voyage farther in an hour, while they rest in this manner and leave the ship to be carried along by the wind, than they would in a much longer time by their own efforts; and if they wished to row, besides the fatigue which would result from it, their labour would be useless, and would only serve to retard the vessel.

This is the conduct we should pursue in our inner life, and in acting thus we shall advance more in a short time by the Divine guidance, than we ever could do by our own efforts.

If only you will try this way, you will find it the easiest possible.

When the wind is contrary, if the wind and the tempest are violent, the anchor must be thrown in the sea to stop the vessel.

This _anchor_ is trust in God and hope in His goodness, waiting in patience for the tempest to cease, and for a favourable wind to return, as David did: "I waited patiently for the Lord," he says, "and He inclined unto me" (Ps.

xl.

1).