Neither in His gracious nor providential dealings does God work a miracle lightly. It would be as great a wonder to see a person full of self become in a moment dead to all self-interest and all sensitiveness as it would be to see a slumbering infant wake in the morning a fully developed man. God works in a mysterious way in grace as well as in nature, concealing His operations under an imperceptible succession of events, and thus keeps us always in the darkness of faith.
He makes use of the inconstancy and ingratitude of the creature, and of the disappointments and surfeits which accompany prosperity, to detach us from them both. All this dealing appears perfectly natural, and it is by this succession of natural means that we are burnt as by a slow fire. We should like to be consumed at once by the flames of pure love; but such an end would cost us scarce anything. It is only an excessive self-love that desires thus to become perfect in a moment, and at so cheap a rate.
We cling to an infinity of things which we never suspect; we only feel that they are a part of us when they are snatched away, as I am only conscious that I have hairs when they are pulled from my head. God develops to us little by little what is within us, of which we are until then entirely ignorant, and we are astonished at discovering in our very virtues defects of which we should never have believed ourselves capable.
God spares us by discovering our weakness to us in proportion as our strength to support the view of it increases. We discover our imperfections one by one as we are able to cure them. Without this merciful preparation that adapts our strength to the light within, we should be in despair.
To the sincere desire to do the will of God we must add a cheerful spirit that is not overcome when it has failed, but tries again and again to do better; hoping always to the very end to be able to do it; bearing with its own involuntary weakness as God bears with it; waiting with patience for the moment when it shall be delivered from it; going straight on in singleness of heart according to the strength that it can command; losing no time by looking back, nor making useless reflections when it falls, which can only embarrass and retard its progress. The first sight of our little failings should humble us, but we must press on; not judging ourselves with a Judaical rigor; not regarding God as a spy watching for our least offense, or as an enemy who places snares in our path, but as a Father who loves and wishes to save us; trusting in His goodness, invoking His blessing, and doubting all other support. This is true liberty.
Humility.
The foundation of peace with all men is humility. Pride is incompatible with pride; hence arise divisions in the world. We must stifle all rising jealousies; all little contrivances to promote our own glory; vain desires to please or to succeed, or to be praised; the fear of seeing others preferred to ourselves; the anxiety to have our plans carried into effect; the natural love of dominion and desire to influence others. These rules are soon given, but it is not so easy to observe them. With some people, not only pride and hauteur render these duties very difficult, but great natural sensitiveness makes the practice of them nearly impossible, and, instead of respecting their neighbor with a true feeling of humility, all their charity amounts only to a sort of compassionate toleration that nearly resembles contempt.
Humility is the source of all true greatness; pride is ever impatient, ready to be offended. He who thinks nothing is due to him never thinks himself ill-treated; true meekness is not mere temperament, for this is only softness or weakness.
There is no true and constant gentleness without humility; while we are so fond of ourselves we are easily offended with others. Let us be persuaded that nothing is due to us, and then nothing will disturb us. Let us often think of our own infirmities, and we shall become indulgent toward those of others.