On that happy Magdalene's Day my soul was perfectly delivered from all
its pains. It had already begun since the receipt of the first letter
from Father La Combe, to recover a new life. It was then only like that
of a dead person raised, though not yet unbound from grave clothes. On
this day I was, as it were, in perfect life, and set wholly at liberty.
I found myself as much raised above nature, as before I had been
depressed under its burden. I was inexpressibly overjoyed to find Him,
whom I thought I had lost forever, returned to me again with
unspeakable magnificence and purity. It was then, O God, that I found
again in Thee with new advantages, in an ineffable manner, all I had
been deprived of; the peace I now possessed was all holy, heavenly and
inexpressible. All I had enjoyed before was only a peace, a gift of
God, but now I received and possessed the God of peace. Yet the
remembrance of my past miseries still brought a fear upon me, lest
nature should find means to take to itself any part therein. As soon as
it wanted to see or taste anything, the Spirit ever watchful crossed
and repelled it. I was far from elevating myself, or attributing to
myself anything of this new state. My experience made me sensible of
what I was.
I hoped I should enjoy this happy state for some time, but little did I
think my happiness so great and immutable as it was. If one may judge
of a good by the trouble which precedes it, I leave mine to be judged
of by the sorrows I had undergone before my attaining it. The apostle
Paul tells us, that "the sufferings of this life are not to be compared
with the glory that is prepared for us." How true is that of this life!
One day of this happiness was worth more than years of suffering. It
was indeed, at that time well worth all I had undergone, though it was
then only dawning. An alacrity for doing good was restored to me,
greater than ever. It seemed to me all quite free and natural to me. At
the beginning, this liberty was less extensive; but as I advanced it
grew greater. I had occasion to see Mon. Bertot for a few moments, and
told him, I thought my state much changed. He, seemingly attentive to
something else, answered, "No." I believed him; because grace taught me
to prefer the judgment of others, and rather believe them than my own
opinions or experience. This did not give me any kind of trouble. Every
state seemed equally indifferent if I only had the favor of God. I felt
a kind of beatitude every day increasing in me. I did all sorts of
good, without selfishness or premeditation. Whenever a self-reflective
thought was presented to my mind, it was instantly rejected, and as it
were a curtain in the soul drawn before it. My imagination was kept so
fixed, that I had now very little trouble on that. I wondered at the
clearness of my mind and the purity of my whole heart.
I received a letter from Father La Combe, wherein he wrote that God had
discovered to him that he had great designs in regard to me. "Let them
be," then said I to myself, "either of justice or mercy, all is equal
to me." I still had Geneva deeply at heart; but said nothing of it to
anybody, waiting for God to make known to me His all powerful will and
fearing lest any stratagem of the Devil should be concealed therein,
that might tend to draw me out of my proper place, or steal me out of
my condition. The more I saw my own misery, incapacity and nothingness,
the plainer it appeared that they rendered me fitter for the designs of
God, whatever they might be. "Oh, my Lord," said I, "take the weak and
the wretched to do thy works, that Thou mayest have all the glory and
that man may attribute nothing of them to himself. If Thou shouldst
take a person of eminence and great talents, one might attribute to him
something; but if Thou takest me, it will be manifest that thou alone
art the Author of whatever good shall be done." I continued quiet in my
spirit, leaving the whole affair to God, being satisfied, if He should
require anything of me, that He would furnish me with the means of
performing it. I held myself in readiness with a full resolution to
execute His orders, whenever he should make them known, though it were
to the laying down of my life. I was released from all crosses. I
resumed my care of the sick, and dressing of wounds, and God gave me to
cure the most desperate. When surgeons could do no more, it was then
that God made me cure them.
Oh, the joy that accompanied me everywhere, finding still Him who had
united me to Himself, in His own immensity and boundless vastitude! Oh,
how truly did I experience what He said in the Gospel, by the four
evangelists, and by one of them twice over, "Whosoever will lose his
life for my sake shall find it; and whosoever will save his life shall
lose it."
When I had lost all created supports, and even divine ones, I then
found myself happily compelled to fall into the pure divine, and to
fall into it through all those very things which seemed to remove me
further from it. In losing all the gifts, with all their supports, I
found the Giver. In losing the sense and perception of Thee in
myself--I found Thee, O my God, to lose Thee no more in Thyself, in Thy
own immutability. Oh, poor creatures, who pass all your time in feeding
upon the gifts of God, and think therein to be the most favored and
happy. How I pity you if you stop here, short of the true rest, and
cease to go forward to God Himself, through the loss of those cherished
gifts which you now delight in! How many pass all their lives in this
way, and think highly of themselves! There are others who, being called
of God to die to themselves, yet pass all their time in a dying life,
in inward agonies, without ever entering into God through death and a
total loss of self, because they are always willing to retain something
under plausible pretexts, and so never lose themselves to the whole
extent of the designs of God. They never enjoy God in all His fullness;
which is a loss that cannot be perfectly known in this life.
Oh, my Lord, what happiness did I not largely taste in my solitude, and
with my little family, where nothing interrupted my tranquillity! As I
was in the country, the slender age of my children did not require my
application too much, they being in good hands, I retired a great part
of the day into a wood. I passed as many days of happiness as I had had
months of sorrow. Thou, O my God, dealt by me as by thy servant Job,
rendering me double for all thou hadst taken, and delivering me from
all my crosses. Thou gavest me a marvelous facility to satisfy
everyone. What was surprising now was that my mother-in-law, who had
ever been complaining of me, without my doing anything more than usual
to please her, declared that none could be better satisfied with me
than she was. Such as before had cried me down the most, now testified
their sorrow for it and became full of my praises. My reputation was
established with much more advantage, in proportion as it had appeared
to be lost. I remained in an entire peace, as well without as within.
It seemed to me that my soul was become like New Jerusalem, spoken of
in the Apocalypse, prepared as a bride for her husband and where there
is no more sorrow, or sighing. I had a perfect indifference to
everything that is here, a union so great with the will of God, that my
own will seemed entirely lost. My soul could not incline itself on one
side or the other, since another will had taken the place of its own,
but only nourished itself with the daily providences of God. It now
found a will all divine, yet was so natural and easy that it found
itself infinitely more free than ever it had been in its own.
These dispositions have still subsisted, and still grown stronger, and
more perfect even to this hour. I could neither desire one thing nor
another, but was content with whatever fell. If any in the house asked
me, "Will you have this, or that?" then I was surprised to find that
there was nothing left in me which could desire or choose. I was as if
everything, of smaller matters, quite disappeared, a higher power
having taken up and filled all their place. I even perceived no more
that soul which He had formerly conducted by His crook and His staff,
because now He alone appeared to me, my soul having given up its place
to Him. It seemed to me, as if it was wholly and altogether passed into
its God, to make but one and the same thing with Him; even as a little
drop of water, cast into the sea, receives the qualities of the sea.
Oh, union of unity, demanded of God by Jesus Chirst for men and merited
by him! How strong is this in a soul that is become lost in its God!
After the consummation of this divine unity, the soul remains hid with
Christ in God. This happy loss is not like those transient ones which
ecstacy operates, which are rather an absorption than union because the
soul afterwards finds itself again with all its own dispositions. Here
she feels that prayer fulfilled--John 17:21: "That they all may be one
as thou Father art in me, and I in thee; that they also may be one in
us."