The difference between true and false equanimity. The way to the former.

The Twelfth Letter.

The difference between true and false equanimity. The way to the former.

In the grace of Jesus, dearly beloved sister!

Your kind letter of the 12th of May, to Fr. N——, I opened in his absence — for, on account of our fellowship in the Lord, I regard it as though it were written directly to me as well; and I know, besides, that he and you will gladly grant me such freedom.

The answer to your question — how it still goes with us both on this pilgrim-road — you have, on the whole, guessed well in your letter: namely, that with others, as with you, summer and winter, rain and sunshine, take their turns. Now it would certainly be very good and needful — and, by divine grace, well possible too — that amid and under all such changeablenesses one should remain, according to the inner ground, wholly equanimous and detached from it all, abiding in God. But just here I must, together with you, dear sister, still confess my weakness — however well I also recognize the contrary.

True, I do not exactly find that these changeablenesses go to my heart so much more than they once did; yet such a thing often has quite another cause, and does not always come from a ground of virtue and surrender — for which reason one must not, just there, trust oneself. When we sometimes have outward business or distractions, then we mark and feel the inner alternations far less than when we have much outward stillness and attention upon ourselves: in this there is much that deceives. It often goes with us as with those who lie in a high fever, who, on account of the confusion in the head, sometimes know little aright of their own condition.

Therefore, that we may attain to the true, divine equanimity, we must, it seems to me, take great care that we do not take any outward thing or event too much to heart — whereby everything in us can often be thrown into confusion and disorder, so that nature can no longer be told apart from grace, the outward from the inward man; so that one then does not know what to hold to, like one who has the dizziness in his head. Further, we must faithfully exercise ourselves, by God's grace, in inward prayer, or turning-in, and not let the time needful for it be robbed from us without weighty cause. Through true inward prayer we shall come forth more out of all that is visible, and out of ourselves — which is precisely the land of changeableness — and shall, little by little, discover within us a very noble, still, pure ground of the heart, which has no fellowship at all (if I may so speak) — not only with all the changeablenesses of the outward world, but also with all the alternations of our soulish man — but where God, and the still eternity, reveal themselves. Whomever God has brought thus far lives, throughout, very equanimously according to this part; indeed, so far he cannot be otherwise than at rest, because in God no unrest has any place — nor, either, in a soul that abides in God. But hush, mouth and pen! This must be experienced rather than spoken. Besides this, it seems to me, we must not look at ourselves so constantly, nor reckon ourselves by what changes and alternates in us, against or apart from our will; but we must look to the ground of our will — to our inmost desire, heart, and love, which are all one — and hold ourselves thereby to God, by God, and in God, as well as we are able through His grace: for so, too, does God look upon us, as we are according to this part. Finally, we must learn to let God be God, in truth, through the inmost and irrevocable surrender of our whole being into His hand and into His unbounded good pleasure — whereby, properly and at last, we are set into a very unshakable state, when the divine mercy leads us thither. I break off short, for I do not gladly write of things that go so far beyond my own experience; nor do I even know how, in the writing, I came upon it. Your love and discretion will take it all for the best.

My outward body is still frail; for several weeks I have been able to eat little, though now and then it is again somewhat better. Yet it always seems to me that if the head were not so heavy and dull, the rest would not amount to so much. We must accustom ourselves to thank God for what is unpleasant, even when reason thinks otherwise: for God is God; and that must be our comfort and joy in everything.

How, then, is the dear friend N—— doing? It seems to me I have heard nothing of her lately, though I am often reminded to remember you in your weakness. For us frail ones, nothing is especially more needful than that we keep ourselves — freely detached, gathered in, and still — beside Jesus, and at His feet. There is the true Bethesda (the house of mercy), as it is called, where we must wait upon His inward stirrings of grace, as those waited upon the outward movings of the water. Do but look once at John 5:3 — what kind of people gather there? Whether it might not be the right place for us too?

German

Der zwölfte Brief.

Unterschied der wahren und falschen Gleichmüthigkeit. Weg zur erstern.

In der Gnade JEsu vielgeliebte Schwester!

Euer Angenehmes vom 12. Mai an Fr. N. N. habe ich bei dessen Abwesenheit eröffnet, weil ich wegen unserer Gemeinschaft im HErrn es ansehe, als wenn's auch direct an mich geschrieben wäre, und ich zudem weiß, daß er und ihr mir solche Freiheit gerne vergönnen werdet.

— Opening lines of the original German. The complete transcription of all 605 letters appears in the forthcoming Encounter Press critical edition; Brief 1 is shown in full as a sample.

German text: public domain (1773–75 first edition / 1845 Gesammelte Schriften).