Spiritual Torrents Part 4

_PART II._

CHAPTER I.

MORE PARTICULAR DESCRIPTION OF SOME OF THE CHARACTERISTICS OF THE DIVINE RESURRECTION LIFE--TRUE LIBERTY AND THE RISEN LIFE, IN DISTINCTION FROM THAT WHICH IS NOT SO, OF WHICH JOB IS AN ILl.u.s.tRATION--COMMENCEMENT OF THE APOSTOLIC LIFE--ITS FUNCTIONS AND ITS FRUITS--ON THE PRACTICE OF VIRTUE, PARTICULARLY OF HUMILITY--BLESSEDNESS OF BEING LOST IN G.o.d--RARITY OF PERFECT ABANDONMENT--RAYS OF GLORY ESCAPED FROM WITHIN.

I omitted to say that this is where true liberty begins; not, as some imagine, a liberty which necessitates idleness; that would be imprisonment rather than liberty, fancying ourselves free because, having an aversion to our own works, we no longer practise them. The liberty of which I speak is of a different nature; it does all things easily which G.o.d would have done, and the more easily in proportion to the duration and the painfulness of the incapacity to do them which we have previously experienced. I confess I do not understand the resurrection state of certain Christians, who profess to have attained it, and who yet remain all their lives powerless and dest.i.tute; for here the soul takes up a true life. The actions of a raised man are the actions of life; and if the soul remain lifeless, I say that it may be dead or buried, but not risen. A risen soul should be able to perform without difficulty all the actions which it has performed in the past, only they would be done in G.o.d. Did not Lazarus, after his resurrection, exercise all the functions of life as formerly, and Jesus Christ after His resurrection was willing to eat and to converse with men. And so of those who believe themselves to be risen with Christ, and who are nevertheless stunted in their spiritual growth and incapable of devotion,--I say, that they do not possess a resurrection life, for there everything is restored to the soul a hundred-fold. There is a beautiful ill.u.s.tration of this in the case of Job, whose history I consider a mirror of the spiritual life. First G.o.d robbed him of his wealth, which we may consider as setting forth gifts and graces; then of his children; this signifies the destruction of natural sensibilities, and of our own works, which are as our children and our most cherished possessions: then G.o.d deprived him of his health, which symbolises the loss of virtue; then He touched his person, rendering him an object of horror and contempt. It even appears that this holy man was guilty of sin, and failed in resignation; he was accused by his friends of being justly punished for his crimes; there was no healthy part left in him.

But after he had been brought down to the dunghill, and reduced as it were to a corpse, did not G.o.d restore everything to him, his wealth, his children, his health, and his life?

It is the same with spiritual resurrection; everything is restored, with a wonderful power to use it without being defiled by it, clinging to it without appropriating it as before. All is done in G.o.d, and things are used as though they were not used. It is here that true liberty and true life are found. "If we have been planted in the likeness of Christ's death, we shall be also in the likeness of His resurrection" (Rom. vi.

5). Can there be freedom where there are powerlessness and restrictions?

No; "If the Son shall make you free, ye shall be free indeed," but with His liberty.

This is where true liberty begins. Nothing that G.o.d desires is difficult to us, or costs us anything; and if a person is called to preach, to instruct, &c., he does it with a marvellous facility, without the necessity of preparing a discourse, being well able to practise what Jesus commanded His disciples, "Take no thought how or what ye shall speak: for I will give you a mouth and wisdom, which all your adversaries shall not be able to gainsay nor resist" (Matt. x. 19; Luke xxi. 15). This is not given till after an experience of powerlessness; and the deeper that experience has been, the greater is the liberty. But it is useless to endeavour to force ourselves into this condition; for as G.o.d would not be the source, we should not realise the desired results. It may well be said of this risen life, that all good things are given with it. In this state, the soul cannot practise the virtues as virtues; it is not even conscious of them; but all the virtues have become so habitual to it, that it practises them naturally, almost instinctively. When it hears others speak of deep humiliation, it is surprised to find that it experiences nothing of the kind; and if it sought to humble itself, it would be astonished, as though it were guilty of unfaithfulness, and would even find it impossible, because the state of annihilation through which it has pa.s.sed has placed it below all humiliation; for in order to be humbled, we must _be something_, and nothingness cannot be brought lower; its present state has placed it above all humility and all virtue by its transformation into G.o.d, so that its powerlessness arises both from its annihilation and its elevation. Those persons have nothing outwardly to distinguish them from others, unless it be that they do no harm to any one; for, so far as the exterior is concerned, they are very ordinary, and therefore do not attract observation, but live in a state of quiet rest, free from all care and anxiety. They experience a deep joy, arising from the absence of all fear, or desire, or longing, so that nothing can disturb their repose or diminish their joy. David possessed this experience when he said, "The Lord is my light and my salvation, whom shall I fear? The Lord is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid" (Ps. xxvii.

1).

A heart ravished with joy no longer looks at itself, nor thinks of itself; and its joy, though great, is not an object of contemplation.

The soul is in a state of ravishment and ecstasy which cause no uneasiness, because G.o.d has enlarged its capacity almost to infinitude.

Those ecstasies which cause the loss of consciousness are the effect of human imperfection, and are nevertheless the admiration of men. G.o.d is, as it were, drawing the soul out of itself that it may be lost in Him; but as it has neither sufficient purity nor strength to bear the process, it becomes necessary, either that G.o.d should cease thus to draw it, which involves the cessation of the ecstasy, or that nature should succ.u.mb and die, which not unfrequently happens. But in this resurrection life, the ecstasy lasts, not for a few hours only, but for ever, without either violence or variation, G.o.d having purified and strengthened the subject of it to the extent necessary to enable it to bear this glorious ravishment. It seems to me that when G.o.d goes out of Himself, He creates an ecstasy,--but I dare not say this for fear of teaching an error. What I say then is, that the soul drawn out of itself experiences an inward ecstasy; but a happy one, because it is only drawn out of itself in order that it may be drowned and lost in G.o.d, quitting its own imperfections and its own limited thoughts to partic.i.p.ate in those of G.o.d.

O happy nothingness! where does its blessedness end? O poverty-stricken, weary ones! how well ye are recompensed! O unutterable happiness! O soul! what a gain thou hast made in exchange for all thy losses! Couldst thou have believed, when thou wast lying in the dust, that what caused thee so much horror could have procured thee so great a happiness as that which thou now possessest? If it had been told thee, thou couldst not have credited it. Learn now by thine own experience how good it is to trust in G.o.d, and that those who put their confidence in Him shall never be confounded.

O abandonment! what gladness canst thou impart to the soul, and what progress it might have made if it had found thee at first; from how much weariness it might have been delivered if it had known how to let G.o.d work! But, alas! men are not willing to abandon themselves, and to trust only in G.o.d. Even those who appear to do it, and who think themselves well established in it, are only abandoned in imagination, and not in reality. They are willing to abandon themselves in one thing and not in another; they wish to compromise with G.o.d, and to place a limit to what they will permit Him to do. They want to give themselves up, but on such and such conditions. No; this is not abandonment. An entire and total abandonment excepts nothing, keeps back nothing, neither death, nor life, nor perfection, nor salvation, nor heaven, nor h.e.l.l. O poor souls! give yourselves up utterly in this abandonment; you will get only happiness and blessing from it. Walk boldly on this stormy sea, relying on the word of Jesus, who has promised to take upon Himself the care of all those who will lose their own life, and abandon themselves to Him. But if you sink like Peter, ascribe it to the weakness of your faith. If we had the faith calmly, and without hesitation, to face all dangers, what good should we not receive! What do you fear, trembling heart? You fear to lose yourself? Alas! for all that you are worth, what would that matter? Yes, you will lose yourself if you have strength to abandon yourself to G.o.d, but you will be lost in Him. O happy loss! I do not know how sufficiently to repeat it. Why can I not persuade every one to make this abandonment? and why do men preach anything less? Alas! men are so blind that they regard all this as folly, as something fit for women and weak minds; but for great minds it is too mean; they must guide themselves by their own meagre share of wisdom. This path is unknown to them, because they are wise and prudent in themselves; but it is revealed to babes, who can suffer self to be annihilated, and who are willing to be moved by G.o.d at His pleasure, leaving Him to do with them as He will, without resistance, without considering what others will say. Oh, how difficult it is to this proper prudence to become nothing both in its own eyes and in the sight of others! Men say that their one object in life is to glorify G.o.d, while it is really their own glorification. But to be willing to be nothing in the sight of G.o.d, to live in an entire abandonment, in utter self-despair, to give themselves to Him when they are the most discouraged, to leave themselves in His hands, and not to look at self when they are on the very edge of the abyss; it is this that is so rare, and it is this which const.i.tutes perfect abandonment. There sometimes occur in this life wonderful manifestations to the natural senses, but this is not usual; it is like Christ on the Mount of Transfiguration.

CHAPTER II.

STABILITY, EXPERIENCES, ELEVATION, EXTREME PURITY, AND PEACE OF THE SOUL IN THE CONDITION OF ABANDONMENT--ALL IS PURELY G.o.d TO IT--FOR ITS LOST LIBERTY IT FINDS THAT OF G.o.d--STATE IN WHICH ALL IS DIVINELY SURE, EQUAL, AND INDIFFERENT.

The soul having attained a divine state, is, as I have already said, an immovable rock, proof against all blows or shocks, unless it be when the Lord desires it to do something contrary to custom; then, if it does not yield to His first promptings, it has to suffer the pain of a constraint to which it can offer no resistance, and is compelled by a violence, which cannot be explained, to obey His will.

It is impossible to tell the strange proofs to which G.o.d subjects the hearts which are perfectly abandoned, and which offer no resistance to Him in anything; neither, if I could speak of them, should I be understood. All that I can say is, that He does not leave them the shadow of anything that could be named, either in G.o.d or out of G.o.d. And He so raises them above all by the loss of all, that nothing less than G.o.d Himself, either in earth or heaven, can stop them. Nothing can harm them, because there is no longer anything hurtful for them, by reason of their union with G.o.d, which, in a.s.sociating with sinners, contracts no defilement, because of its essential purity.

This is more real than I can express: the soul partic.i.p.ates in the purity of G.o.d; or rather, all natural purity having been annihilated, the purity of G.o.d alone exists in its nothingness; but so truly, that the heart is in perfect ignorance of evil, and powerless to commit it, which does not however prevent the possibility of its falling; but this seldom happens here, because the profound nothingness of the soul does not leave anything that can be appropriated to itself; and it is appropriation alone which can cause sin, for that which no longer exists cannot sin.

The peace of those in this condition is so invariable and so profound, that nothing either in earth or h.e.l.l can disturb it for a moment. The senses are still susceptible to suffering; but when they are overpowered by it, and cry out with the anguish, if they are questioned, or if they examine themselves, they will find nothing in themselves that suffers: in the midst of the greatest pain, they say that they suffer nothing, being unable to admit that they are suffering, because of the divine state of blessedness which reigns in the centre or supreme part.

And then there is such an entire and complete separation of the two parts, the inferior and the superior, that they live together like strangers; and the most extraordinary trouble does not interrupt the perfect peace, tranquillity; joy, and rest of the superior part; as the joy of the divine life does not prevent the suffering of the inferior.

If you wish to attribute any goodness to those who are thus transformed in G.o.d, they will object to it, not being able to find anything in themselves that can be named, affirmed, or heard. They are in a complete _negation_. It is this which causes the difference of terms and expressions employed by writers on this subject, who find a difficulty in making themselves understood, except by those whose experience accords with their own. Another effect of this negation is, that the soul having lost all that was its own, G.o.d having subst.i.tuted Himself, it can attribute nothing either to itself or to G.o.d; because it knows G.o.d only, of whom it can say nothing. Here all is G.o.d to the soul, because it is no longer a question of seeing all _in_ G.o.d; for to see things in G.o.d is to distinguish them in Him. For instance, if I enter a room, I see all that is there in addition to the room itself, though it be placed within it; but if all could be transformed into the room itself, or else were taken out of it, I should see nothing but the room alone. All creatures, _celestial_, _terrestrial_ or _pure intelligences_, disappear and fade away, and there remains only G.o.d Himself, as He was before the creation. The soul sees only G.o.d everywhere; and all is G.o.d; not by thought, sight, or light, but by an ident.i.ty of condition and a consummation of unity, which rendering it G.o.d by partic.i.p.ation, without its being able to see itself, prevents it seeing anything anywhere; it can see no created being out of the Uncreated, the only uncreated One being all and in all.

Men would condemn such a state, saying it makes us something less than the meanest insect; and so it does, not by obstinacy and firmness of purpose, but by powerlessness to interfere with ourselves. You may ask one in this condition, "Who leads you to do such and such a thing? Is it G.o.d who has told you to do it, or has made known to you His will concerning it?" He will reply, "I know nothing, and I do not think of knowing anything: all is G.o.d and His will; and I no longer know what is meant by the will of G.o.d, because that will has become natural to me."

"But why should you do this rather than that?" "I do not know: I let myself be guided by Him who draws me." "Why so?" "He draws me because I, being no longer anything, am carried along with G.o.d, and am drawn by Him _alone_. _He_ goes. .h.i.ther and thither: _He_ acts; and I am but an instrument, which I neither see nor regard. I have no longer a separate interest, because by the loss of myself I have lost all self-interest.

Neither am I capable of giving any reason for my conduct, for I no longer have a conduct: yet I act infallibly so long as I have no other principle than that of the Infallible One."

And this blind abandonment is the permanent condition of the soul of which I speak; because having become one with G.o.d, it can see nothing but G.o.d; for having lost all separateness, self-possession, and distinction, it can no longer be abandoning itself, because, in order to abandon ourselves, we must do something, and have the power of disposing of ourselves.

The soul is in this condition "hidden _with Christ_ in G.o.d" (Col. iii.

3); _mingled_ with Him, as the river of which we have spoken is mingled with the sea, so that it can be separated no more. It has the ebb and flow of the sea, no longer by choice, will, and liberty, but by nature: the immense sea having absorbed its shallow limited waters, it partic.i.p.ates in all the movements of the sea. It is the sea which bears it, and yet it is not borne, since it has lost its own being; and having no other motion than that of the sea, it acts as the sea acts: not because it naturally possesses the same qualities, but because, having lost all its natural qualities, it has no others but those of the sea, without having the power of ever being anything but sea. It is not, as I have said, that it does not so retain its own nature, that, if G.o.d so willed it, in a moment it could be separated from the sea; but He does not do this. Neither does it lose the nature of the creature; and G.o.d could, if He pleased, cast it off from His divine bosom: but He does not do it, and the creature acts as it were divinely.

But it will be said that by this theory I deprive man of his liberty.

Not so; he is no longer free except by an excess of liberty, because he has lost freely all created liberty. He partic.i.p.ates in the uncreated freedom, which is not contracted, bounded, limited by anything; and the soul's liberty is so great, so broad, that the whole earth appears to it as a speck, to which it is not confined. It is free to do all and to do nothing. There is no state or condition to which it cannot accommodate itself; it can do all things, and yet takes no part in them. O glorious state! who can describe thee, and what hast thou to fear or to apprehend? O Paul! thou couldst say, "who shall separate us from the love of Christ?" "I am persuaded," says the great apostle, "that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor princ.i.p.alities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of G.o.d, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord" (Rom. viii. 35, 38, 39). Now these words, "I am persuaded," exclude all doubt. But what was the foundation of Paul's a.s.surance? It was in the infallibility of G.o.d alone. The epistles of this great apostle, this mystical teacher, are often read, but seldom understood; yet all the mystic way, its commencement, its progress, its end, are described by St Paul, and even the divine life; but few are able to understand it, and those to whom the light is given see it all there clearer than the day.

Ah! if those who find it so difficult to leave themselves to G.o.d could only experience this, they would confess that though the way might be arduous, a single day of this life was a sufficient recompense for years of trouble. But by what means does G.o.d bring the soul here? By ways altogether opposed to natural wisdom and imagination. He builds up by casting down; He gives life by killing. Oh! if I could tell what He does, and the strange means which He uses to bring us here. But silence!

men are not able to hear it; those who have experienced it know what it is. Here there is no need of place or time; all is alike, all places are good; and wherever the order of G.o.d may take us, it is well, because all means are useless and infinitely surpa.s.sed: when we have reached the end, there is nothing left to wish for.

Here all is G.o.d: G.o.d is everywhere and in everything, and therefore to the soul all is the same. Its religion is G.o.d Himself, always the same, never interrupted; and if sometimes G.o.d pours some stream of His glory upon its natural powers and sensibilities, it has no effect upon the centre, which is always the same. The soul is indifferent either to solitude or a crowd: it no longer looks forward to deliverance from the body in order that it may be united to G.o.d. It is now not only united, but transformed, changed into the Object of its love, which causes it no longer to think of loving; for it loves G.o.d with His own love, and naturally, though not inamissibly.

CHAPTER III.

IN WHICH IS EXPLAINED BY A COMPARISON THAT WHICH CONCERNS PERFECT UNION OR DEIFORMITY--SECRETS OF G.o.d REVEALED TO HIS HIDDEN ONES, AND BY THEM TO OTHERS--PERMANENCE AND PROGRESS OF THIS CONDITION, THOUGH VARIABLE--NATURAL CAPACITY MUST BE LOST--THE PARTIc.i.p.aTED CAPACITY OF G.o.d BY TRANSFORMATION GLOWS INFINITELY.

A similitude occurs to my mind which appears very appropriate to this subject: it is that of grain. First it is separated from the husk, which sets forth conversion and separation from sin: when the grain is separate and pure, it must be ground (by affliction, crosses, sickness, &c.); when it is thus bruised and reduced to flour, there must still be taken from it, not that which is impure, for this is gone, but all that is coa.r.s.e, that is, the bran; and when there is nothing left but the fine flour, then it is made into bread for food. It appears as though the flour were soiled, blackened, and blighted; that its delicacy and whiteness were taken from it, in order that it may be made into a paste which is far less beautiful than the flour. Lastly, this paste is exposed to the heat of the fire. Now this is precisely what happens to the soul of which I have been speaking. But after the bread is baked, it is fit for the mouth of the king, who not only unites it to himself by contact with it, but eats it, digests it, consumes it, and annihilates it, that it may enter into his composition, and become part of himself.

You will observe that though the bread has been eaten by the king, which is the greatest honour it can receive, and is its end, yet it cannot be changed into his substance unless it be annihilated by digestion, losing all its natural form and quality. Oh, how well this sets forth all the conditions of the soul; that of union being very different to that of transformation, in which the soul, in order to become one with G.o.d, transformed and changed into Him, must not only be eaten, but digested, that, after having lost all that was its own, it may become one with G.o.d Himself: "That they all may be one, as Thou, Father, art in me, and I in Thee; that they also may be one in us, I in them, and Thou in me, that they may be made perfect in one." (John xvii. 21, 23). "He that is joined unto the Lord is one spirit" (1 Cor. vi. 17).

This state is very little known, therefore it is not spoken of. O state of life! how narrow is the way which leadeth unto thee! O love the most pure of all, because Thou art G.o.d Himself! O love immense and independent, which nothing can limit or straiten!

Yet these people appear quite common, as I have said, because they have nothing outwardly to distinguish them, unless it be an infinite freedom, which is often scandalised by those who are limited and confined within themselves, to whom, as they see nothing better than they have themselves, all that is different to what they possess appears evil. But the holiness of these simple and innocent ones whom they despise is a holiness incomparably more eminent than all which they consider holy, because their own works, though performed with such strictness, have no more strength than the principle in which they originate, which is always the effort, though raised and enn.o.bled, of a weak creature; but those who are consummated in the divine union act in G.o.d by a principle of infinite strength; and thus their smallest actions are more agreeable to G.o.d than the mult.i.tude of heroic deeds achieved by others, which appear so great in the sight of men. Therefore those in this degree do not seek for great things to do, resting contented with being what G.o.d makes them at each moment. These do more, without doing anything, for the conversion of a kingdom, than five hundred preachers who have not attained this condition.

G.o.d sometimes, however, permits these people to be known, though not fully. Many people apply to them for instruction, to whom they communicate a vivifying principle, by means of which many more are won to Christ; but this is done, without care or anxiety, by pure Providence. If people only knew the glory which is rendered to G.o.d by such as these, who are scorned by the world, they would be astonished; for it is they who render to G.o.d a glory worthy of Himself; because G.o.d, acting as G.o.d within them, brings into them a glory worthy of Him.

Oh, how many Christians, quite seraphic in appearance, are far from this! But in this condition, as in all others, there are souls more or less divine. G.o.d hides them in His bosom, and under the veil of a most common life, so that they may be known to Him alone, though they are His delight. Here the secrets of G.o.d, in Himself and in the hearts of those in whom He dwells, are revealed; not by word, sight, or light, but by the science of G.o.d, which abides in Him; and when such people have to write or speak, they are themselves astonished to find that all flows from a divine centre, without their having been aware that they possessed such treasures. They find themselves in a profound science, without memory or recollection; like an inestimable treasure, which is un.o.bserved until there is a necessity for its manifestation; and it is in the manifestation to others that they find the revelation to themselves. When they write, they are astonished to find themselves writing of things with which they neither knew nor believed themselves to be acquainted; although, as they write, they cannot doubt their apprehension of them. It is not so with other Christians; their light precedes their experience, as a person sees from afar the things which he does not possess, and describes what he has seen, known, heard, &c.

But these are persons who hold a treasure within themselves, which they do not see until after the manifestation, although it is in their possession.

Yet, after all, this does not well express the idea which I wish to convey. G.o.d is in this soul; or rather the soul no longer exists; it no longer acts, but G.o.d acts, and it is the instrument. G.o.d includes all treasures in Himself, and manifests them through this soul to others; and thus, as it draws them from its centre, it becomes aware of their presence, though it had never reflected upon them before. I am sure that any who have attained this degree will enter into my meaning, and will easily distinguish the difference between the states I have described.

Those whom I mentioned first, see things and enjoy them as we enjoy the sun; but the others have become one with the sun itself, which does not enjoy nor reflect upon its own light. This condition is permanent, and its only vicissitude, so far as its centre is concerned, is a greater advancement in G.o.d: and as G.o.d is infinite, He can continually make the soul more divine by enlarging its capacity, as the water of which we have spoken expands in proportion as it is lost in the sea, with which it mingles incessantly without ever leaving it. It is the same with these souls. All who are in this degree have G.o.d, but some more and some less fully. They are all full, but all do not possess an equal plenitude. A little vase when full is as truly filled as a larger one, yet it does not contain an equal quant.i.ty. So all these souls are filled with the fulness of G.o.d, but it is according to their receptive capacity, which capacity G.o.d continually enlarges. Therefore the longer Christians live in this divine condition, the more they expand, and their capacity becomes continually more immense, without anything being left for them to do or desire; for they always possess G.o.d in His fulness, and He never leaves an empty corner in their hearts. As they grow and enlarge, He fills them with Himself, as we see with the air. A small room is full of air, but a large one contains more. If you continually increase the size of a room, in the same proportion the air will enter, infallibly though imperceptibly: and thus, without changing its state or disposition, and without any new sensation, the soul increases in capacity and in plenitude. But this growing capacity can only be received in a state of nothingness, because in any other condition there is an opposition to growth.

It may be well here to explain what may appear a contradiction, when I say, that the soul must be brought to nothing in order to pa.s.s into G.o.d, and that it must lose all that is its own; and yet I speak of capacity which it retains.

There are two capacities. One is natural to the creature, and this is narrow and limited: when it is purified, it is fitted to receive the gifts of G.o.d, but not G.o.d Himself; because what we receive within us must of necessity be less than ourselves, as that which is enclosed in a vase must be of less extent, though it may be of greater value, than the vase which contains it.

But the capacity of which I speak here is a capacity to extend and to lose itself more and more in G.o.d, after the soul has lost its appropriation, which confined it to itself; and this capacity being no longer restricted nor limited, because its annihilation has deprived it of all form, disposes the soul to flow into G.o.d, so that it loses itself, and flows into Him who is beyond comprehension. The more it is lost in Him, the more it develops and becomes immense, partic.i.p.ating in His perfections, and being more and more transformed in Him, as water in communication with its source continually mingles with it. G.o.d, being our original source, has created us with a nature fit to be united, transformed, and made one with Himself.

CHAPTER IV.