Instruction to a person, how she should conduct herself in the feeling of her sins and in temptations.

The Ninety-third Letter.

Instruction to a person, how she should conduct herself in the feeling of her sins and in temptations.

In the grace of God, dearly beloved friend!

I received your welcome letter late yesterday evening, and because I do not know when I shall have an opportunity to send there, I will write a little answer at once.

That I could not come to you again lately was surely the Lord's ordering, in order to teach you thereby the lesson I have so often impressed upon you: namely, not to look, nor to lean, upon men, or upon means, but only upon God, and according to His good pleasure; and, before all things, to strive to become rightly acquainted and familiar with Him whose presence no creature can take from you. Meanwhile it is to be wondered at that, although you give so many tokens of trust in me, and in what I say, you nevertheless fall back again and again upon the foolish thought that I decline your company on account of your sinfulness and wretchedness — when I have so often assured you of the contrary, and assure you again. Certainly! you must, in many respects, become far simpler than you are; not speculate so much, and never think evil of any single person.

But that you may also know the cause which lately hindered me from calling on you that evening, know this: that I had scarcely come home when I was asked by the friend N. N. to help conclude, that afternoon, a certain settlement in a vexatious dispute that had stood a good fifteen years and more, and about which the contending parties were to come together that afternoon. Now, because a settlement had often been attempted in vain, the aforesaid friend imagined it would again be for nothing if I would not go along; whereupon I let myself be persuaded at last to go for a little hour. But once I was there, I could not get free, and had to sit on, against my will and with vexation, till past eleven o'clock at night — when the settlement was at last struck and set down.

In the morning I soon went over to see you: but you had just quietly gone away. Judge now from this whether I am to be blamed or not; and whether it was not rather a lack of simplicity in you, that you thought otherwise of me.

Yet, that I may not seem to want to quarrel with you, I come to your letter. Could you but grasp and practice these few words, all would already go well — namely: Believe that you are full of sin; but do not love the sin; do not fret over the sin; do not even think about the sin — so shall you soon be holy, and find rest for your soul. There are still far more sins in you than you know. Yea, if God does not work in you by His grace, you will do nothing but sin continually. We imagine that we do indeed believe this, but everything proves the contrary. For whence comes it, otherwise, that we stand so utterly dismayed and confounded when we fail — or especially when the Lord lets us feel our sinfulness painfully, and as if grope after it with our hands? Only because we had not believed that this and that were still in us; because we supposed we had already come further; or else because we regarded much as virtue which the Lord then sets before our eyes as self-hood and impurity. All our workings, in so far as they are our own, are impure, even when they aim at something good. Whoever rightly believed that would surely learn to desist from his own doing, and let himself be given up wholly and utterly to the Lord, together with all true Christians; and would become so humble in his own eyes that he would count himself unworthy of all good — yea, that he would take up with a willing heart every cross laid upon him by God and men.

But do not love the sin! I mean to say: even when all the power of sin and wickedness stirs within you, and you become aware of nothing but temptations on every side, then say in sincerity to God: Lord! I will not sin. Draw your inner will back, gently but wholly, from the evil, and incline yourself inwardly toward God as well as you can; in Him and near Him no evil can reach you. And if you cannot do even this, then suffer in stillness, as a rock suffers the raging of the sea, and as a tree suffers hail and storm, till it grows bright again. And if you think that you have consented, then let your whole heart say once more: Lord! I will not sin.

And then do not fret over the sin! By our unruly bearing at the feeling of sin and temptation, we accomplish nothing else than to make the evil worse, and, instead of suffering a temptation, to fall into a sin. A troubled heart is already half overcome, and never accomplishes anything good. Certainly! when the cunning serpent perceives that one is afraid of every shadow, it often plagues such a soul thoroughly, even if it achieved nothing more than to steal the soul's time through constant unrest. Yea, we should have cause to fear, to cry alas and woe, and (as you write) not to know where to run — if there were no longer a Jesus, who has never yet refused His help to poor sinners, though for a while He lets the waves beat over the ship, without, as it seems, taking any notice of it. The impatient, unbroken nature will not wait, but wants to break through with fire and sword; it wants either to be helped, or soon to despair. No, dear soul! be of good cheer and undismayed, and wait upon the Lord!

Do not even think about the sin — at least not with deliberate will. The remembrance often awakens temptations. The much and unceasing staring at your sins and temptations makes you only fainthearted and little in faith. Or are you afraid that so many sins, and so strong temptations, might come, that Jesus could help no longer? Foolish creature! Look upon the sin — even that which stirs in you against your will — as upon something that does not concern you; leave this monster where it is: it is not worth your remembrance and occupation. Yea, even when you feel the sin most fiercely, then strive to forget it as far as possible, and to take no notice of it. Experience has taught that great temptations have often been overcome by a simple forgetting. Consider that you have something else to do in the world than always to think about the sin. God and His presence shall be the chief occupation of your heart; and if anything else comes to you, inwardly or outwardly, then tell Him all of it — even without words — just as childlike and open-hearted as you would toward a good friend, if he were with you. But do not linger over anything, save over Him alone. Look upon Him continually with the eyes of your love, yet without making yourself any image of Him; bow yourself everywhere, in spirit, before Him; adore Him; give yourself to Him a thousand times over; embrace Him in your heart; in short, make yourself right familiar with Him, and picture it to yourself entirely thus: that He is your trusted friend, and you His child. And with these and suchlike heart-thoughts occupy yourself inwardly in such a way that you forget yourself, and all the world and sin, over it. And if it then occurs to you that you are so wretched, corrupt, and full of sin, then say: That I know well, but I have no time yet to think about it. Ah, if you could walk on thus, like a child — how soon would you be holy, without your own working and knowing!

Before I close this letter, which I did not mean to make so long, I will yet recall this one thing, on the occasion that you write: You would be, to most people, an offense; and afterward: My kinsmen and friends stand far off from me, and so on. Although I do not exactly grasp your meaning in it, I say this much about it in general: Attend faithfully, according to your ability, to the works of your calling — as much as is needful for good housekeeping and the raising of children — with a quiet, glad spirit; and believe that you serve God therein, and please Him very much. Be friendly and submissive to all, but especially to your husband, in all things that are not against God and your conscience; for that is the will of God. And if, despite this, someone is offended at you, then rejoice, and think: the Saviour too was a stone of stumbling. But if something evil does break out, in words or in your doing, against your will, so that someone is with reason offended at you, then humble yourself for it in your heart before God; yea, when circumstances require it, confess your faults frankly even before men. Only do not disquiet yourself too much, lest the last become worse than the first; rather let yourself be strengthened and comforted again by the grace of God, as a mother does with her fallen child, without looking long at the mire in which you have stumbled.

I know well that you will find much to object to in my writing. But such objections have already been answered many times; and besides, my head is rather weak, so that I am already quite tired of writing. I do not presume to want to teach you, or anyone — I who am myself so full of darkness and wretchedness; rather I simply obey your desire, and think that this little letter may serve in place of a small word of comfort. I have been away a week or so, and shall perhaps have to go off again shortly, so that I do not yet know when God will grant that we shall see one another outwardly. Pray for me! I hope God will also give grace to be able to remember you. I greet you heartily, and N. as well. He who has called us is faithful: He will not forsake you. In Him I remain

Your devoted friend and fellow-pilgrim.

Mülheim, the 10th of October, 1729.

German

Der dreiundneunzigste Brief.

Unterricht an eine Person, wie sie sich in dem Gefühl ihrer Sünden und in Versuchungen verhalten müsse.

In der Gnade GOttes vielgeliebte Freundin!

Euer angenehmes Schreiben habe gestern Abend spät wohl erhalten, und weil nicht weiß, wann dorthin Gelegenheit haben werde, so will alsbald eine kleine Antwort schreiben.

— 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).