A salutary displeasure with ourselves. How the gifted freedom and time should be devoted to the Lord.

The Nineteenth Letter.

A salutary displeasure with ourselves. How the gifted freedom and time should be devoted to the Lord.

Dear brother!

Your kind letter I received and read with pleasure, and I had already, for some time, felt an inclination to visit you with a little letter. That your own writing so displeases you, as you say, is good and right — just as, conversely, it betokens a great lack of light when we take pleasure in what is our own. Nonetheless it is agreeable to me, and also not displeasing to God, that you now and then let me look over your writing once — whether it might perhaps displease me too — and that I may at least come to know you somewhat from it: if not as a saint, then at any rate as a frail brother. If I reflected so much, I might well leave it all undone too. Enough! — provided that what we do is done in the utmost simplicity of heart, as before the Lord.

It is right dear to me that you are freed from the school-burden; for since you now gain so much more time and stillness, I trust and wish that both may be richly blessed to the furtherance of your inward life. We must not, indeed, lightly throw off an outward burden or hardship that divine providence has laid upon us; but — oh, how humbly and heartily ought we not to fold our hands in thankfulness to the Lord, when He Himself unburdens us the more of outward entanglements and cares, that we may, so much the more and the more easily, keep holy-day for Him, without being so wretchedly drawn this way and that! (see 1 Cor. 7:36, in Reitz.) Thither will the discipline of the Spirit now, dear brother, even without my reminding, already entice and direct you: namely, to devote the freedom and time thus given to the Lord — not teaching, but learning, and sitting still, with Mary, at the feet of Jesus, in outward and inward detachment. Blessed, but hidden school! — where one gives one's own whole will as tuition; where the teaching is working, and the learning is letting oneself be worked; where the smallest little child sits at the head; and to forget all things is the greatest wisdom.

I cannot forbear to recall, once more, how greatly bound we are to thank the Lord when He grants us, in this short, toilsome life, a few free moments yet for His service of the spirit; and how watchfully we must keep guard, to spend them not uselessly, but always, as much as possible, in the very best way, through God's grace. I have learned, not without harm, how the enemy can ape and delude one, and always bring something specious to mind, with which we are to busy or detain ourselves — only that he may steal our time away, and the most needful thing be neglected, or at least not practiced with whole application. Yes, Lord! I recognize it in Thy light: we are dreaming when we engage in things that Thou art not; we lose the time — yes, we spoil the time — that we do not spend with Thee and with eternity. It is not enough that we do no evil; nor even, always, that we do something good; rather, wisdom teaches us ever to test what may be the best — as the dear Saviour intimates (Luke 10:40).

Since, then, our time is short, dear brother, let us go to our work! — that is, to abide, in inward and reverent stillness, beside and beneath the Lord; un-becoming our own selves, and abandoning ourselves to the inwardly-present, faithful Love, remaining wholly and forever given over to her, in the name of Jesus. Herein I desire to sink deep and lose myself with you, that no one may find us anymore in this detachment; and should someone seek us, and want to lead us off to something else, we can well turn him away with the first word that is written of our Saviour: "What is it that ye sought me? Knew ye not that I must be in that which is my Father's?"

As concerns my health: it is changeable, as I am used to. I commend myself to your remembrance, and that of you all, before the Lord — which I recognize as especially needful for me; and at times I feel so vividly what you write of yourself, that I cannot express it enough: namely, that if God were wholly to withdraw His grace from me, I could fall into the greatest abominations and sins. But — no! His mercy does not permit that — His mercy, which will not let itself be turned away by our unfaithfulnesses and miseries; wherewith, sighing from the ground of my heart, I once more embrace and greet you in love, together with all the God-seekers there, and remain, by grace,

Your weak yet sincere brother.

German

Der neunzehnte Brief.

Heilsames Mißfallen unserer selbst. Wie die geschenkte Freiheit und Zeit dem HErren zu widmen sey.

Lieber Bruder!

Dein Angenehmes habe ich mit Vergnügen erhalten und gelesen, und hatte ich schon einige Zeit Neigung gefunden, dich mit einem Brieflein zu besuchen.

— 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).