Letters

Introduction: Brother Lawrence's letters are the very heart and soul

of what is titled 'The Practice of the Presence of God'. All of these

letters were written during the last ten years of his life. Many of them

were to long-time friends, a Carmelite sister and a sister at a nearby

convent. One or both of these friends were from his native village,

perhaps relatives.

The first letter was probably written to the prioress of one of these

convents. The second letter was written to Brother Lawrence's own

spiritual adviser. Note that the fourth letter is written in the third

person where Brother Lawrence describes his own experience. The letters

follow the tradition of substituting M-- for specific names.

First Letter: You so earnestly desire that I describe the method by which

I arrived at that habitual sense of God's presence, which our merciful

Lord has been pleased to grant me. I am complying with your request with

my request that you show my letter to no one. If I knew that you would

let it be seen, all the desire I have for your spiritual progress would

not be enough to make me comply.

The account I can give you is: Having found in many books different

methods of going to God and divers practices of the spiritual life,

I thought this would serve rather to puzzle me than facilitate what I

sought after, which was nothing but how to become wholly God's. This made

me resolve to give the all for the All. After having given myself wholly

to God, to make all the satisfaction I could for my sins, I renounced,

for the love of Him, everything that was not He, and I began to live as

if there was none but He and I in the world.

Sometimes I considered myself before Him as a poor criminal at the feet

of his judge. At other times I beheld Him in my heart as my Father, as my

God. I worshipped Him the oftenest I could, keeping my mind in His holy

presence and recalling it as often as I found it wandered from Him. I

made this my business, not only at the appointed times of prayer but

all the time; every hour, every minute, even in the height of my work,

I drove from my mind everything that interrupted my thoughts of God.

I found no small pain in this exercise. Yet I continued it,

notwithstanding all the difficulties that occurred. And I tried not to

trouble or disquiet myself when my mind wandered. Such has been my common

practice ever since I entered religious life. Though I have done it very

imperfectly, I have found great advantages by it. These, I well know,

are to be imputed to the mercy and goodness of God because we can do

nothing without Him; and I still less than any.

When we are faithful to keep ourselves in His holy presence, and set Him

always before us, this hinders our offending Him, and doing anything that

may displease Him. It also begets in us a holy freedom, and, if I may so

speak, a familiarity with God, where, when we ask, He supplies the graces

we need. Over time, by often repeating these acts, they become habitual,

and the presence of God becomes quite natural to us.

Please give Him thanks with me, for His great goodness towards me,

which I can never sufficiently express, and for the many favors He has

done to so miserable a sinner as I am. May all things praise Him. Amen.

Second Letter: Not finding my manner of life described in books, although

I have no problem with that, yet, for reassurance, I would appreciate

your thoughts about it.

In conversation some days ago a devout person told me the spiritual life

was a life of grace, which begins with servile fear, which is increased

by hope of eternal life, and which is consummated by pure love; that

each of these states had its different steps, by which one arrives at

last at that blessed consummation.

I have not followed these methods at all. On the contrary, I

instinctively felt they would discourage me. Instead, at my entrance

into religious life, I took a resolution to give myself up to God as

the best satisfaction I could make for my sins and, for the love of Him,

to renounce all besides.

For the first years, I commonly employed myself during the time set

apart for devotion with thoughts of death, judgment, hell, heaven, and

my sins. Thus I continued some years applying my mind carefully the rest

of the day, and even in the midst of my work, to the presence of God,

whom I considered always as with me, often as in my heart.

At length I began to do the same thing during my set time of prayer,

which gave me joy and consolation. This practice produced in me so high

an esteem for God that faith alone was enough to assure me.

Such was my beginning. Yet I must tell you that for the first ten years

I suffered a great deal. During this time I fell often, and rose again

presently. It seemed to me that all creatures, reason, and God Himself

were against me and faith alone for me.

The apprehension that I was not devoted to God as I wished to be, my past

sins always present to my mind, and the great unmerited favors which God

did me, were the source of my sufferings and feelings of unworthiness. I

was sometimes troubled with thoughts that to believe I had received such

favors was an effect of my imagination, which pretended to be so soon

where others arrived with great difficulty. At other times I believed

that it was a willful delusion and that there really was no hope for me.

Finally, I considered the prospect of spending the rest of my days in

these troubles. I discovered this did not diminish the trust I had in God

at all. In fact, it only served to increase my faith. It then seemed that,

all at once, I found myself changed. My soul, which, until that time was

in trouble, felt a profound inward peace, as if she were in her center

and place of rest.

Ever since that time I walk before God simply, in faith, with humility,

and with love. I apply myself diligently to do nothing and think nothing

which may displease Him. I hope that when I have done what I can, He

will do with me what He pleases.

As for what passes in me at present, I cannot express it. I have no pain

or difficulty about my state because I have no will but that of God. I

endeavor to accomplish His will in all things. And I am so resigned that

I would not take up a straw from the ground against His order or from

any motive but that of pure love for Him.

I have ceased all forms of devotion and set prayers except those to

which my state requires. I make it my priority to persevere in His holy

presence, wherein I maintain a simple attention and a fond regard for

God, which I may call an actual presence of God. Or, to put it another

way, it is an habitual, silent, and private conversation of the soul

with God. This gives me much joy and contentment. In short, I am sure,

beyond all doubt, that my soul has been with God above these past thirty

years. I pass over many things that I may not be tedious to you.

Yet, I think it is appropriate to tell you how I perceive myself before

God, whom I behold as my King. I consider myself as the most wretched

of men. I am full of faults, flaws, and weaknesses, and have committed

all sorts of crimes against his King. Touched with a sensible regret

I confess all my wickedness to Him. I ask His forgiveness. I abandon

myself in His hands that He may do what He pleases with me.

My King is full of mercy and goodness. Far from chastising me, He embraces

me with love. He makes me eat at His table. He serves me with His own

hands and gives me the key to His treasures. He converses and delights

Himself with me incessantly, in a thousand and a thousand ways. And He

treats me in all respects as His favorite. In this way I consider myself

continually in His holy presence.

My most usual method is this simple attention, an affectionate regard

for God to whom I find myself often attached with greater sweetness

and delight than that of an infant at the mother's breast. To choose

an expression, I would call this state the bosom of God, for the

inexpressible sweetness which I taste and experience there. If, at

any time, my thoughts wander from it from necessity or infirmity,

I am presently recalled by inward emotions so charming and delicious

that I cannot find words to describe them. Please reflect on my great

wretchedness, of which you are fully informed, rather than on the great

favors God does one as unworthy and ungrateful as I am.

As for my set hours of prayer, they are simply a continuation of the same

exercise. Sometimes I consider myself as a stone before a carver, whereof

He is to make a statue. Presenting myself thus before God, I desire Him to

make His perfect image in my soul and render me entirely like Himself. At

other times, when I apply myself to prayer, I feel all my spirit lifted

up without any care or effort on my part. This often continues as if it

was suspended yet firmly fixed in God like a center or place of rest.

I know that some charge this state with inactivity, delusion, and

self-love. I confess that it is a holy inactivity. And it would be a happy

self-love if the soul, in that state, were capable of it. But while the

soul is in this repose, she cannot be disturbed by the kinds of things

to which she was formerly accustomed. The things that the soul used to

depend on would now hinder rather than assist her.

Yet, I cannot see how this could be called imagination or delusion because

the soul which enjoys God in this way wants nothing but Him. If this is

delusion, then only God can remedy it. Let Him do what He pleases with

me. I desire only Him and to be wholly devoted to Him.

Please send me your opinion as I greatly value and have a singular esteem

for your reverence, and am yours.

Third Letter: We have a God who is infinitely gracious and knows all our

wants. I always thought that He would reduce you to extremity. He will

come in His own time, and when you least expect it. Hope in Him more

than ever. Thank Him with me for the favors He does you, particularly

for the fortitude and patience which He gives you in your afflictions. It

is a plain mark of the care He takes of you. Comfort yourself with Him,

and give thanks for all.

I admire also the fortitude and bravery of M--. God has given him a good

disposition and a good will; but he is still a little worldly and somewhat

immature. I hope the affliction God has sent him will help him do some

reflection and inner searching and that it may prove to be a wholesome

remedy to him. It is a chance for him to put all his trust in God who

accompanies him everywhere. Let him think of Him as much as he can,

especially in time of great danger.

A little lifting up of the heart and a remembrance of God suffices. One

act of inward worship, though upon a march with sword in hand, are prayers

which, however short, are nevertheless very acceptable to God. And, far

from lessening a soldier's courage in occasions of danger, they actually

serve to fortify it. Let him think of God as often as possible. Let

him accustom himself, by degrees, to this small but holy exercise. No

one sees it, and nothing is easier than to repeat these little internal

adorations all through the day.

Please recommend to him that he think of God the most he can in this

way. It is very fit and most necessary for a soldier, who is daily faced

with danger to his life, and often to his very salvation.

I hope that God will assist him and all the family, to whom I present

my service, being theirs and yours.

Fourth Letter: I am taking this opportunity to tell you about the

sentiments of one of our society concerning the admirable effects and

continual assistance he receives from the presence of God. May we both

profit by them.

For the past forty years his continual care has been to be always

with God; and to do nothing, say nothing, and think nothing which may

displease Him. He does this without any view or motive except pure love

of Him and because God deserves infinitely more.

He is now so accustomed to that Divine presence that he receives from it

continual comfort and peace. For about thirty years his soul has been

filled with joy and delight so continual, and sometimes so great, that

he is forced to find ways to hide their appearing outwardly to others

who may not understand.

If sometimes he becomes a little distracted from that Divine presence,

God gently recalls Himself by a stirring in his soul. This often happens

when he is most engaged in his outward chores and tasks. He answers with

exact fidelity to these inward drawings, either by an elevation of his

heart towards God, or by a meek and fond regard to Him, or by such words

as love forms upon these occasions. For instance, he may say, "My God,

here I am all devoted to You," or "Lord, make me according to Your heart."

It seems to him (in fact, he feels it) that this God of love, satisfied

with such few words, reposes again and rests in the depth and center

of his soul. The experience of these things gives him such certainty

that God is always in the innermost part of his soul that he is beyond

doubting it under any circumstances.

Judge by this what content and satisfaction he enjoys. While he

continually finds within himself so great a treasure, he no longer has

any need to search for it. He no longer has any anxiety about finding

it because he now has his beautiful treasure open before him and may

take what he pleases of it.

He often points out our blindness and exclaims that those who content

themselves with so little are to be pitied. God, says he, has infinite

treasure to bestow, and we take so little through routine devotion which

lasts but a moment. Blind as we are, we hinder God, and stop the current

of His graces. But when He finds a soul penetrated with a lively faith,

He pours into it His graces and favors plentifully. There they flow like

a torrent, which, after being forcibly stopped against its ordinary

course, when it has found a passage, spreads itself with impetuosity

and abundance.

Yet we often stop this torrent by the little value we set upon it. Let us

stop it no more. Let us enter into ourselves and break down the bank which

hinders it. Let us make way for grace. Let us redeem the lost time, for

perhaps we have but little left. Death follows us close so let us be well

prepared for it. We die but once and a mistake there is irretrievable.

I say again, let us enter into ourselves. The time presses. There is

no room for delay. Our souls are at stake. It seems to me that you are

prepared and have taken effectual measures so you will not be taken by

surprise. I commend you for it. It is the one thing necessary. We must

always work at it, because not to persevere in the spiritual life is to

go back. But those who have the gale of the Holy Spirit go forward even

in sleep. If the vessel of our soul is still tossed with winds and storms,

let us awake the Lord who reposes in it. He will quickly calm the sea.

I have taken the liberty to impart to you these good sentiments that you

may compare them with your own. May they serve to re-kindle them, if at

any time they may be even a little cooled. Let us recall our first favors

and remember our early joys and comforts. And, let us benefit from the

example and sentiments of this brother who is little known by the world,

but known and extremely caressed by God.