Letters of Madam Guyon

by Jeanne Marie Bouvier de la Motte Guyon

You enquire, how one who desires to follow the movements of God's spirit, may distinguish these movements, from the natural operations of the mind. There is not, at all times, a positive certainty regarding divine movements. If it were so, we should become infallible as the angels; that is, if we were as pure in our intentions. We must walk with God, in entire abandonment and uncertainty, at the risk of sometimes making mistakes, which in the infancy of experience is unavoidable. He who wishes for a particular inspiration, or direction in common matters, which his own reason and judgment can determine, is liable to deception.

A pure soul acts in simplicity, and without certainty, being persuaded that what is good comes from God, and what is not good from self. The greater the simplicity,—the more separate from the mingling of self-activity—the purer are these operations; because the soul in this state is only a simple instrument, that the Word, which is in her, moves, so that it is the Word which speaks and not herself. This manner of speaking, relates to matters of importance, and not to the minute concerns of every-day life. The divine Word, in all exigencies, is found in the soul, that is wholly consecrated to Christ. "When they bring you before magistrates and kings, etc., it shall be given you in that hour what ye shall speak." This method of divine leading—by the hour and by the moment—leaves the soul always free and unencumbered, and ready for the slightest breath of the Lord. This breath, in the pure soul, is as the gentle zephyr, and not as the whirlwind, which shakes the earth. Do not then expect to have anticipated movements, or movements beforehand from God. I have an experience of many years, that God often makes known his will, only in the time of action.

If a pure soul, wholly sacrificed to God, should undertake something contrary to the will of God, it would feel a slight repugnance, and desist at once. If one does not feel this repugnance, let the act be performed in simplicity. A mother who holds her child by a leading-string, loosens it, that it may walk; but if about to make a mis-step, she draws the string. The repugnance which a holy soul feels to do a thing, is as when the mother draws the leading-string.

STATE OF SIMPLICITY.

I experienced recently, a marked perception of your state, as one in which God took delight, and upon which he had infinite designs, regarding himself and his glory. I saw clearly the state to which God desired to bring you—the means to be used, and the obstacles in the way—the mutual sympathy and confidence he required between us—and the openness and freedom of communication necessary for our mutual benefit, and that we should not hesitate to speak freely of each other's faults.

The peculiarity you remark in my experience, needs some explanation. You say I do not seem to be wounded, nor blame myself when reproved for a fault. To which I reply simply, there is no more of self remaining in me to be wounded. This indifferent state you notice in me, arises from the state of innocency and infancy in which I find myself. Our Lord holds me so far removed from myself, or from my natural state, that it is impossible for me to take a painful view of myself. When a fault is committed by me, it leaves no traces on the soul; it is as something external, which is easily removed. Do not infer that I am blind to my faults. The light of truth is so subtle and penetrating, that it discovers the slightest fault. Souls which are in the natural life, have real faults, as a paper written over with ink is strongly marked, therefore they see and feel them. But souls, transformed into God, have faults, as a writing traced on sand when the wind is high, the wind defacing it as soon as it is traced. This is the economy of divine wisdom, relating to souls in union and harmony with God. Oh! the greatness and simplicity of the way of Truth! How unlike the world's apprehension of it!

QUENCHING THE SPIRIT.

Desiring to follow closely the divine leading, I expressed to you the other day, some sentiments you were not able to receive. I perceived at once, that on account of your resistance, I could say no more. From this experience, although painful as regards yourself, I learnt the extreme delicacy of the spirit that seeks to aid others; and the strength of man's freedom to oppose this operation. I realized, also, my inability to act of myself; for, as soon as the spirit in me was silent, I had nothing to say. I had, however, the extreme satisfaction of knowing, that this good spirit alone conducted me; and that I would not, in the least degree, add, nor diminish from its operations.