The Prodigal Returns Part 5

What I know of the soul's actual Finding and Contact with G.o.d I keep very closely to myself. Here and there to a few, a very few souls, I may speak: to all others I am forbidden to speak. I am stopped; and I understand perfectly why this is: it is that I should do more harm than good. Anyone looking at me would say (and all the more so because I am dressed in the fashion of the day, and not in some peculiar way, or in a nun's habit, for such trifling things affect many minds), "That person is demented to think that she knows what it is to have Contact with G.o.d," and it would seem a scandal to them. But the explanation of the mystery is not so simple as this. I am not demented. I never was so sane, so capable in my life as now.

I never was so perfectly poised as now. But if you say to me, "Explain what it is that you know, in order that I too may know,"

then I can say to you nothing more than, "Come and know for yourself, for G.o.d awaits you."

To ill.u.s.trate a mere fraction of the difficulty of pa.s.sing such a knowledge from one self to another self, let us take such a case as that of a man born blind. He sits beneath a tree, on the gra.s.s. You put a blade of gra.s.s in his fingers, and also a leaf from the tree, and you say to him, "This is gra.s.s, and this is the leaf of the tree which shelters you, and both are green." "And what," he asks, "is green?"

And to save your life you cannot make him know what it is, or make him know the tree, or know the gra.s.s, though he touches them both with his hands. How, then, shall G.o.d, Who can be neither seen, nor heard, nor touched, how shall He be made known from one to another? He must be experienced to be known. And if you should say to me, "What does it feel like to have found G.o.d?" then I should say, "It feels that the roof is lifted off the world, and wherever we may be or stand it is a straight line from us to G.o.d and nothing between, nothing between, day or night."

VI

To come to the contemplation of G.o.d it is not necessary to go through any lengthy toil, some process of throwing out this or that, painfully, slowly, denying the existence of everything in order to arrive at G.o.d. The way is not denying, but concentrating; and in the act of concentration, because of love, all other things whatsoever in creation fall away into nothing and are no more, because G.o.d in all His graciousness reveals Himself, and then He alone exists for the enraptured soul.

VII

Supposing that we have found Jesus Christ, supposing that we know Him so well and have come to love Him so much that our love for Him is become stronger than any other love, very much stronger than any other love, and still, in spite of hopes and endeavours, we know that we have not found the G.o.dhead, we have not found Union with the First and Third Person of the Holy Trinity--the heavens have not, as it were, been opened to us to let our souls slip through to G.o.d. Are we to be discouraged because of this? Are we to think ourselves less favoured, less loved? A thousand times no.

We are, perhaps, in neither heart, mind, or soul quite sufficiently prepared for the great ordeals that must be gone through _after Union with G.o.d,_ To find G.o.d is Victory. But Victory has dangers.

We have perhaps not yet sufficiently developed just those exact qualities which it is essential we must have in order to _maintain_ the connection with G.o.d in the face of all obstacles when once He is found. When G.o.d reveals Himself to a soul she is in great danger, and she knows it, because to fail Him now, to turn away now, to be unfaithful now--this is a terrible disaster to the soul. G.o.d in His mercy exposes no soul to such dangers until she is as ready as may be, but He bides and He works in her till she is ready. So it may very well be that it is not in this life that we come to Union, but later; and the fact that we have not come to Union is a sign to increase our nearness to Christ by as much as we can: the very smallest advance that we make in this life is of the utmost value to us later.

VIII

The soul that is seeking Union with G.o.d must not, upon any pretext whatever, engage itself in spiritualism. Spiritualism may have its great uses for the heart and mind which are without, or are struggling for, belief--the heart and mind of Thomas seeking to touch, to have a proof; but remember the words of the Saviour to Thomas: "Blessed are they," He says, "who have not seen, and yet have believed." And we do not need to wait for death to receive this blessing, but we receive it here. The soul that would find G.o.d must go to Him by means of His Holy Spirit, and no other spirit but the Spirit of G.o.d can take us to Him; and to try to hold communications with the spirits of men _is not the way._ The soul that has come to Union with G.o.d is perfectly aware of the existence of spirits--is intensely aware,--but refuses to pay any attention if she wise. Some of these spirits are very subtle, very knowing; some are full of flattery, and very persistent; others present themselves as still in human form, and seek to terrify with their terrible faces, some diabolical, some appearing to be in a great agony and undergoing changes more astonishing and horrible than can be even imagined before experienced--and melting only to be re-formed into that which is yet more fearful. Have nothing whatever to do with spirits.

Do not resist them when they come, but drop them behind by fixing heart, mind, and soul on Christ. The Spirit of Christ easily overcomes every spirit, every evil, every fear, and in order to ourselves overcome all such things, we need to unite with the Spirit of Jesus Christ by concentrating upon Him with love, and ignoring obstructions. Those who have lent themselves to spiritualism, hoping to find comfort, a lost friend, or even G.o.d Himself, when they give it up (as they must do) they may find themselves greatly plagued by the fires with which they have been playing; but these can soon be overcome by diligently uniting the heart and mind to Jesus Christ.

IX

After coming to full Union with G.o.d, the mind becomes permanently attached to Him, _and this without effort;_ but in order that it shall be without effort, the will must be kept in a state of loving attention to Him, and this again can only be done without effort if the heart is so full of love that it desires nothing else than G.o.d; and this is dependent again upon the grace which the soul receives from Him because of her love and response--so now we see, living and working in our own being, the reason and meaning of His commandment to love Him with all the heart, mind, soul, and strength. It is doing this _after He has Himself given us the power to do it_ which makes us able to live in the closest, most delicious and precious nearness to G.o.d during all our waking hours. But it takes time, and it takes much pain to learn how to live this, as it were, double life--this inward life of companionship, of wonderful and blessed inward intercourse with G.o.d, and the outward intercourse of the senses with the world, our everyday duties, and our fellow-beings. In our early stages we have profound innumerable difficulties in understanding either our own capacities or G.o.d's wishes: we are terrified of losing Him, and yet are often bewildered, and pained also, by some of the higher degrees in which He communicates Himself. We do not understand how to leave G.o.d and return to earthly duties. Supposing that we are altogether wrapped up in the company of G.o.d, and some fellow-being suddenly recalls us to the world (the human voice can recall the soul as nothing else can), the pain is so great as to be nothing less than anguish; and if done often would seriously affect the health of the body.

But in a few years we learn to accomplish it without any shock.

One pain, however, remains, and it grows. I find myself unable to carry on a conversation with anyone unless it is about G.o.d, or about some work which is for G.o.d and has to do with His pleasure (and this is rare, because people are so glued to worldly affairs), for more than an hour, and even less, without the most horrible, the most deathly, exhaustion, which is not only spiritual but bodily--the face and lips losing all colour, the eyes their vitality: so dreadful is the distress of the whole being that one is obliged, upon any kind of pretext, to withdraw from all companions, and, if it is only for five minutes, be alone with G.o.d and, where no eye but His can see, unite completely with Him once more, and immediately the whole being becomes revivified. There is nothing else in life so wonderful, so rapturous as this swift reunion of the soul with G.o.d; and the joy is not only the joy of the soul, because the heart and mind have their fill of it too, for they too have ached and thirsted and hungered and longed, and now are satisfied.

If this measureless happiness could only be imagined by us before we experience it, how many of us would be spurred to greater efforts instead of falling back amongst the dust and cobwebs of Vanity!--but it cannot be imagined, and the only way to come to it is by faith and obedience; and it is easy to see why this arrangement is necessary, for if we could imagine it thoroughly, then we should probably try to get to G.o.d only on account of greed, and should find ourselves drifting away instead of towards Him; it cannot be done by greed, greed being one of those things which beguiled the soul away from Him to begin with; and He does not send the soul His favours till she is free of, and has risen above, the dangers of greed and seeks Him for Himself and not for His favours. As soon as it is safe for her He will give the soul continual favours, because Perfect Love is ever desirous to give, and is only restrained on our account to withhold favours. The soul which knows how to make all necessary preparations to receive Him becomes a source of joy to G.o.d, for now He can give and give and no harm be done to that soul; but He does not acquaint the soul too suddenly with all the joy that she is to Him, because she would not (at least certainly my soul would not) be able to bear the knowledge of the privilege that she enjoys, without some danger to herself,--and so, all unaware of the singularity of the privilege that she enjoys without any a.n.a.lysis of her happiness, she concerns herself with sweetly obeying Him, with singing to Him, and with giving Him all that she has all the day long, and so hovers before Him as delightful simplicity and love.

This Union with G.o.d varies so much in degree that it makes an effect of endless variety. Yet it is all one same joy, it is the joy of angels reduced to such degree as makes it bearable to flesh: the soul knows that it is the joy of angels that she is receiving the first time that she has it given to her: immediately on receipt of this joy she comprehends the _mode_ of heavenly living; she knows it is but the outer edge that she touches, but what means so much to her is that she has _recaptured the knowledge of this mode of living:_ henceforth it is a question of progress, she bends all her attention to progress so that she may get nearer and nearer to G.o.d, so that she may do everything to please this suddenly refound, unspeakably beloved G.o.d.

She desires to get nearer and nearer to G.o.d in spite of the pain that she often experiences. Perhaps the first pains we experience are when we are in contemplation of G.o.d and are caught by G.o.d into High Contemplation. He will at times expose the soul to so much of the Divine Power that she cannot sever herself from the too great fulness of Union with G.o.d, though the body is crying to her to do it and the sufferings of the body are all felt by the soul, which is pulled two ways: all this is very painful and makes us almost in a _fear_ of G.o.d again. Why should Perfect Love inflict this pain on us? It may be to remind us that He is not only Love, but Power, Might, Majesty, and Dominion also. Yet could this ever be forgotten? It seems incredible. But it does not do to trust to one's soul, or to count on what she will do or not do: we know that the soul has forgotten almost everything about G.o.d, so much so that we are now thankful to arrive even so far as being quite certain that He exists! What infinite kindness that He should consent and condescend to Himself be her Teacher! But He does so condescend, and the more the soul relearns of G.o.d, the more she also learns that He is never weary of working for us all: this keeps the soul in a state of intense grat.i.tude.

When the soul arrives at Union with G.o.d, does she remain always in Union? Yes, but not at the degree of Union which is Contact. What is the difference? It can perhaps be most easily explained (though extremely imperfectly) by referring to the union of married life. In this union, though we live in one house, we are not always both in that house at the same time; but this does not dissolve our union, and we both know our way to return there, and the right to meet is always ours. When we are both in the house, although not in the same room, there is a much nearer feeling about it, and we are apt to give a momentary call one to the other, just to have the pleasure of response: yet, though we are aware the other one is in the house and that there is no part of the house where we are forbidden to meet--it is not enough; love requires more: it will be necessary for one to go and seek the actual presence of the other (the soul does this by a quiet prayer with perhaps a few words, but more probably no words).

The one finds the other one; but the other one is occupied, so the one waits patiently (this is pa.s.sive contemplation), and suddenly the occupied one is so constrained by love for the waiting one that he must turn to her, open wide his arms, and embrace her--they meet, they touch, they are content. In spiritual life this is contact or ecstasy or rapture. Here comes in the immensity of the difference between joys physical and joys spiritual--physical joys being limited to five senses: spiritual joys being above senses and open to limitless variations; but in order that these may be known in their fulness, we must eventually (after leaving the flesh) rise to immense heights of perfection: the joys enjoyed by the Archangel would _destroy_ a lesser angel: the degree of joy that invigorates the saint, that sends him into rhapsodies of happiness, would _destroy_ the sinner--(becoming insupportable agony to the sinner). This celestial joy is, fundamentally, a question of the enduring of some un-nameable energy. How can energy be a means of this immeasurable Divine joy? After years of experience I find I cannot go back upon the knowledge that I acquired on the very first occasion of experience--that energy _is a fundamental principle of the mystery._

But how, it may very well be asked, do sins interfere with the reception of this activity? Sins are all imperfections, thickenings of the soul from self-will: pure soul is necessary for the _happy_ reception of this celestial activity, and because impurities are automatically dissipated by this activity, and the dissipation or dispersion of them _is the most awful agony conceivable_ when too suddenly done, what is bliss to the saint is the extremity of torture to the sinner. Now we come very fearfully and dreadfully to understand something more of the meanings, the happenings, of the Judgment Day. Christ will inflict no direct wilful punishment on any soul; but when He presents Himself before all souls and they behold His Face, immediately they will receive the terrible might of the activity of celestial joy. The regenerated will endure and rejoice; the unrepentant sinner will agonise, and he must flee from before the Face of Christ, because the agony that he feels is the dispersal of his imperfect soul; and where shall the sinner flee, where shall he go to find happiness? for saint and sinner alike desire happiness, and there is in Spirit-life only one happiness--the Bliss of G.o.d. So then let us be careful to prepare ourselves to be able to receive and endure this happiness, even if it can at first be only in a small degree, so that we shall not be condemned _by our own pain_ to leave the Presence of G.o.d altogether and consequently lose Celestial Pleasures; let us at least prepare ourselves to remain near enough to know something of this tremendous living.

It was this Divine Activity which on the night of the Too Great Happiness so anguished my imperfect soul. But that night, and that anguish, taught my soul what she could never have learnt by any other means, and what it was I learnt I find myself unable to pa.s.s on to anyone; but that night was for my soul the turning-point of her destiny, that night altered my soul for evermore; that night I knew G.o.d as deeply as He can be known whilst the soul is in flesh.

G.o.d uses also a peculiar drawing power. All souls feeling desire towards G.o.d are to a greater or lesser degree conscious of this, and, as we know, frequently remain conscious of it as a desire and nothing further to the end of life in flesh. By means of it He draws a soul towards Himself until, because of it, the whole being is willing to make efforts at self-improvement, and this is the essential: it is this cleaning up of the character, this purification, which alone can bring us to the point where we can receive G.o.d's communications of Himself (in other words, ecstasies and periods of reunion with Celestial-living). Ecstasies inspire and awaken the soul: they convince the mind absolutely of the existence of another form of living _and of G.o.d Himself._

After ecstasy the efforts of the entire being are bent on trying to perfect itself, and extraordinary Graces may be freely and almost continually given to us in order to make improvement more rapid for us. The feeling for G.o.d which before ecstasy was a deep (and often very painful) longing for G.o.d now increases to a burning, never-ceasing desire for Him: only three thoughts can be said to truly occupy a person from this stage onwards--how to please G.o.d, how to get nearer to Him, how to show practical grat.i.tude. He may increase the flow of His Power to a soul till she is in great distress, longing to leap out of the body owing to the immensity of G.o.d's attraction. This attraction at times has a very real and sensible effect upon the body: it feels to counteract gravity, it makes the body feel so light it is about to leave the ground; it affects walking, and unaccountably changes it to staggering. To receive this attraction can be an ecstatic condition, but is by no means ecstasy. So long as we have power to move the body by will we are not in true ecstasy.

In ecstasy the body feels to be disconnected in some unaccountable manner from the will; it lies inert, though it knows itself and knows that it stills lives--which fundamentally differentiates it from sleep, because in sleep we do not know our body, we do not know if we are alive or dead, we know nothing. In ecstasy is no such blankness: merely the body is perforce inert, it would be entirely forgotten but for its periods of distress.

Neither can ecstasy be confused with dreaming, by even the most simple person. In dreaming, objects and events of a familiar type still surround us; the total inconsequence with which they present themselves alone makes dream-living unlike actual living, for it remains fundamentally of the same type--physical and full of persons, forms, objects, and word-thoughts. We can procure sleep by willing it, but we cannot will to procure ecstasy: we find it totally independent of will.

The Attraction of G.o.d can be a penetrating pain, because the soul, terribly drawn to G.o.d, exceedingly near Him, yet remains unsatisfied even in this close proximity. Why? Because she is being subjected to one Force only--she longs, she remains near, and receives nothing. G.o.d is not bestowing His Activity upon her, which is the way that she "knows" Him--she is not living the celestial life.

It is the combination of the two Forces working together simultaneously on and in the soul which differentiates ecstasy and rapture from all other degrees of G.o.d-Consciousness. When these two Powers work together, we experience celestial living, full Union, the bliss of Contact. It cannot possibly be said that in ecstasy we see G.o.d: it is a question of "knowing" Him through the higher part of the soul, in lesser or in deeper degrees.

X

If the Divine Lover gives such joys to the soul, how does the soul give joy to the Divine Lover? Is she beautiful? She becomes so.

Also the soul is a poet of the first water, though she uses no words; and the soul is a weaver of melodies, though she makes no sound; but above all, and before all, the soul is a great lover. Now we know in this earthly life that a lover desires above everything else the love of her whom he loves. Only when she whom he loves returns his love, can he truly enjoy her.

So also the Divine Lover. O incomparable Love! Love gives all when it gives itself, love receives all when it receives Love.

By love, then, the soul is the Delight of G.o.d.

XI

The soul feels to be formless; though we become aware of a _spreading_ which causes her to feel of the form of a cup or a disc when she receives G.o.d, and in contemplation she feels to extend--flame-like until she meets G.o.d. She can wait for G.o.d--spread, but cannot maintain this form for long without G.o.d rejoices her by His touch. How can so formless a thing, still waiting for its Spiritual Body, be beautiful? She is beautiful because of the colours she is able to a.s.sume: she can glow with such colour as no flower on earth can even faintly imitate. Celestial colours are beyond all imagination.

As the soul grows in purity and is able to endure an increase of the Divine Radiations and Penetration, so she changes her colours; by her colours she delights the eye of her Maker, He touches her, she becomes yet more beautiful.

Very early in the morning G.o.d walks in His Garden of Souls, and in the evening also, and in the noonday, and in the night.

The soul that knows Him knows His approach, and, preparing and adorning herself for Him--waits.

XII

Does G.o.d come and go? The soul feels Him there, and not there. Is she mistaken in this, and G.o.d always to be possessed, but she not dressed to receive Him? If this is so, then how grievously frequent is our failure!

It is more encouraging to our own state to suppose that G.o.d lends Himself and withdraws; that He will be possessed; and He will not be. But this involves caprice. Can Perfect Love have caprice?

We find that grace can be received without intermission for weeks, even months, together. Without coming and departing (although in lesser and greater intensity) the Presence of G.o.d, Love and Comfort, envelop the soul. So then we learn by our own experience that G.o.d is willing to be present amongst us continually in His Second and Third Persons.

Yet, although He is present in His Two Persons, the soul is not filled: she is unspeakably blest and happy, but not wholly satisfied till He is present to her in His First Person also. She knows immediately when He so comes, and then the Three become One, and when They become One to her, in that moment the soul enters Bliss. It is true that if He so came to her very frequently, the soul could not endure Him; but certainly she could endure Him more frequently than she receives Him. It is not because she is worthy that she possesses Him: the soul never, under any circ.u.mstances, feels worthy: it is love alone which enables her to possess Him, and this love that she knows how to shed to Him is His own gift to her.

So the soul cries to Him, O mystery of love, was ever such sweet graciousness as lives in thee: such exquisite felicity of giving and receiving, in which the giver and receiver in mysterious rapture of generosity are oned! And this mystery of love is not in paucity of ways, but in marvellous variety of ways and of degrees--the ways of friendship, the brother and the sister, the mother and the child, the youth and the maiden, and Thyself and we.

Love makes the soul ponder on His tastes, His will, His nature. Does He prefer even in heaven to possess Himself to Himself in His First Person? or are there parts of heaven where He is ever willing to be possessed in His fulness: where He is eternally beheld in His Three Persons by such as can endure Him? The soul believes it, and this is the goal she strives for both now and hereafter.

Yet there is That of Him which is for ever Alone, which will never be known or shared by the greatest of the Angels. The soul comprehends that He will have it so because of that Solitary which sits within herself, she who is made after His likeness.

XIII

For many years before coming to Union with G.o.d, I found that it had become impossible to say more than a little prayer of some five or six words, and these were said very slowly: at times I was astonished at my inability, and ashamed that these pitiful shreds were all that I could offer, and always the same thing too; I tried to vary it--I could not. When I tried to say some fine sentence, when I tried even to ask for something, I could not; it all disappeared in a feeling of such sweet love for G.o.d, and I merely said again the same old words of every day. I loved. I could do nothing more than say so, and then stay there on my knees for a little while, very near Him, fascinated, adoring. But G.o.d is not vexed with a soul when she cannot say much. Is an earthly father vexed when his child, standing there before him, forgets the words upon its lips, forgets to ask, because it loves him so? Far from it.

This prayer is the commencement, the foretaste, of Contemplation.