On inward dryness and poverty, and how one must conduct oneself therein.
The Eighteenth Letter.
On inward dryness and poverty, and how one must conduct oneself therein.
Dear brother in Jesus!
Your latter letter, as well as both the earlier ones, have duly reached my hand, together with what was sent along. The frank description of your dry and weary state, in your little letter of the 31st of October, has been pleasant — indeed, edifying — to me; and it appears from your latter one that you still find yourself so poor and ill-at-ease. It seems to me, dear brother, that I have compassion with you, and I wish from my heart that the faithful God, in this narrow and weighty passage, may keep His eyes open over you, that you may come through at the right end, to arrive at last, through the dry valley of weeping, with God in Zion.
Believe me! if I were to — or could — write or speak to you simply and according to the truth of my own state, it would often sound far more wretched; and perhaps this is the best with which I can comfort you in your misery: when I say that I find myself, in my own self, just as wretched, weak, and unfit as you. When I have now and then said a little word of it, in passing, to good friends, I was not believed; rather some, as I noticed, even supposed it came only from a ground of humility, that I spoke of my poverty — wherefore I now keep silent about it, and must look on, in stillness, while others often have far better thoughts of me than I find myself to be in my own self.
And if I were to advise you, dear brother, I would also not exactly think it serviceable to speak much, always and to everyone, of your poor state — partly, that others may not regard you as the more humble; and also because a habit can easily grow out of it, whereby one often, unawares, expresses oneself as poorer and more wretched than one inwardly knows oneself to be, and so acts against simplicity. Since, besides, in such states it is altogether not serviceable to pour oneself out much, and the Lord, too, very gladly sees that His dealings in and with our soul do not become known to everyone. This I mention without any particular intent: for, as concerns your having written to me of it, that is pleasant to me, and I do not believe it displeases the Lord, however little I know how to serve you.
We have, alas, brought it upon ourselves that we must see and feel so much that is impure in and about us. Formerly we did the evil with pleasure and will; now we must suffer that very thing with pain and reluctance, and know not how to help or to preserve ourselves: yes, when we sometimes want to preserve ourselves by human prudence and our own activity, we often, in this state, make a mere temptation or thought into actual sin. Not to will to sin — that disposition is needful. To fear sin is good, too. But to want to preserve oneself from sin — that is presumption; especially when the time has come that the Lord will let us know what we are capable of. Could we but forget ourselves and sin enough, and give ourselves over to the Lord in blind faith, we would be able to walk, with Peter, without sinking, upon the sea of this world, through all storm-winds and dangers — and, for all our great weakness, yet be strong.
The dear Jesus bless you, and make us children in true innocence, simplicity, and lowliness, that we may rightly please Him! I greet you heartily, as also N—— N——.
German
Der achtzehnte Brief.
Von der inwendigen Dürre und Armuth, und wie man sich darinnen verhalten müsse.
Lieber Bruder in JEsu!
Dein letzterer sowohl, als beide vorige Briefe sind mir wohl zur Hand gekommen nebst dem, was mitgesandt worden. Die offenherzige Beschreibung deines dürren und matten Zustandes in deinem Brieflein vom 31ten Octobris ist mir angenehm, ja erbaulich gewesen; und es scheinet aus deinem letzteren, daß du dich bis noch zu so arm und unbequem befindest.
— 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).
Translator’s notes
What this letter is. A dated reply to a brother in spiritual "winter" — writing frankly of his "dry and weary state." Tersteegen's move is characteristic and disarming: instead of teaching from above, he levels himself below the sufferer. If he told the truth about his own state, he says, "it would often sound far more wretched" — "I find myself, in my own self, just as wretched, weak, and unfit as you." That, he suggests, may be his best comfort. He then gives two counsels. First, don't talk too much about your poverty of spirit — partly lest others think you the more humble for it, partly because a "habit" grows of making oneself out "poorer and more wretched than one inwardly knows," which is itself a lapse from simplicity; and the Lord "very gladly sees" that his dealings with a soul "do not become known to everyone." Second, and deeper: in this state of felt weakness, don't try to guard yourself. We brought our impurity on ourselves, he says, and now must "suffer" what we once did "with pleasure"; but "to want to preserve oneself from sin… is presumption," especially when God means to show us "what we are capable of." The way through is to "forget ourselves and sin enough, and give ourselves over to the Lord in blind faith" — then, "with Peter, without sinking," we could walk "upon the sea of this world," strong in our very weakness.
A few words and echoes.
- Levelling himself below. His pastoral signature: he comforts the discouraged not by standing over them but by confessing himself "just as wretched, weak, and unfit as you."
- Don't parade your poverty. A shrewd warning — talking constantly of one's spiritual poverty can breed a false humility and a habit of overstating; better to keep God's dealings quiet.
- The valley of weeping to Zion. His hope for his friend's hard passage, from the pilgrim psalm: through "the dry valley of weeping" (the vale of Baca) to arrive "with God in Zion."
- Peter on the water. His central image: to stop guarding oneself and trust "in blind faith" is to walk "with Peter, without sinking," across the stormy "sea of this world" — strong precisely where one is weak.
- Presumption, not prudence. His sharp point: fearing sin is good, but wanting to preserve oneself from it, by "human prudence and our own activity," is presumption — it can turn a mere temptation into "actual sin."
trans. Jarred Fenlason · gerhardtersteegen.com/letters/bdi-thi-018 · all rights reservedEnglish translation © Jarred Fenlason · All rights reserved · gerhardtersteegen.com.