The Great Conversation: An Annotated Bibliography
The Great Conversation: An Annotated Bibliography
A whole sea of literature has been written over the centuries about what I like to describe as “the great conversation about the growth of the soul.” Usually these writings are classified as devotional classics. But, please, we must not think of devotion in the modern sense of pious sayings and comforting thoughts. Oh, no!
Devotion for these writers embraces the whole of human experience: inward and outward, sacred and secular, personal and corporate. These writings are far from religious platitudes. Instead, they bring discernment into the most raw and perplexing situations we human beings face. They give particular attention to the interior life and how we can be transformed from the inside out by the power of God. They walk with us through our fears and our insecurities and show us the way to peace and freedom and joy.
These writers give sustained attention to the virtues and the vices and how we can become the kind of person from whom virtues naturally and easily flow and vices can be conquered in the power of God. And over the centuries a kind of “conversation” has gone forward as one writer would build on another. For example, in the fourth century Evagrius of Pontus gives us the eight deadly thoughts. (His story, by the way, is full of intrigue and adventure worthy of an HBO special.) In the sixth century Gregory the Great condenses the insights of Evagrius into what we today describe as “the seven deadly sins.” In the fourteenth century, Dante pens The Divine Comedy and takes the concept of the seven deadly sins to construct a “seven story mountain” that the soul must climb and overcome in order to enter paradise. Then, Thomas Merton in the twentieth century uses this very imagery to write his autobiography of faith, The Seven Storey Mountain.
Please understand, these are not merely academic discussions of “virtue ethics” that are far removed from the struggles and trials you and I face daily. Rather, they are stories filled with boiling hot issues, both virtues and vices. Just consider Augustine’s description in his Confessions: “I polluted, therefore the stream of friendship with the foulness of lust, and clouded its purity with the dark hell of illicit desire” (Book 3, I. New York: Thomas Nelson Publishers, 1983, translated by E. M. Blaiklock.)
Of course to speak of the vices, we must also speak of the virtues. Evagrius actually writes about the eight godly virtues that are to conquer the eight deadly thoughts. These virtues have been discussed and dissected, debated and advocated, from Aesop’s Fables and Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics to André Comte–Sponville’s A Small Treatise on the Great Virtues.
The virtues themselves are many and varied: generosity and compassion and mercy and gratitude and humility and simplicity and tolerance and purity and gentleness and politeness and humor—just to name a few. Seven virtues have surfaced to the top as qualities of deep character formation that are so very essential. First, there are “the cardinal virtues” of prudence, temperance, courage, and justice. Next are “the theological virtues” of faith, hope, and love. Many a book has been written to unpack these—I know, I own a whole shelf of them! The point is that we have a great body of literature to help us work our way through the tangled masses of vices and into the life-giving virtues.
We have so many wonderful resources to help us in our growth in grace, I have frankly been at a loss to choose between them. I began with a list of a hundred or so, but, of course, this list needed considerable trimming. So, I cut the list in half . . . painful surgery!
I have finally chosen fifty books to recommend here. All fifty are specifically related to spiritual formation. They comprise, if you will, a canon for formation. Together these will provide you with a good running start to a lifetime of reading and studying and experiencing. I suggest we proceed in three movements.
First, I am listing all fifty books by the century in which they were written so you can catch something of the flow of holy history. Also, this will help you see the “conversation” going on over the centuries.
Second, I am recommending to you a “starter kit” of twelve resources chosen from across the centuries. These I am listing in the order I suggest you read them, the first ones being the more accessible. I will do my best to unpack these twelve resources sufficiently so that you can see their value for your life today.
Third, following your “starter kit,” I provide an annotated listing of the thirty-eight other books alphabetically by author. Of course, you are free to read and study and experience these in whatever order works for you. Hopefully you can enjoy and learn from these for many years to come.
The key in all this is for us to read slowly. The point is not how many books we read but how much of what we read we are able to draw into our own life experiences. For example, you may want to spend some weeks meditating on Thomas à Kempis’s wise counsel, “The only person who is safe to speak is the person who is free to remain silent. The only person who is safe to travel is the person who is free to stay at home.”
You will quickly notice that I have not included in this list any living authors or recent writings. No doubt a good number of contemporary writings can be genuinely helpful. But, and here is the crucial point, they simply have not yet stood the test of time.
The classics of devotion have stood the test of time. Christians over the centuries have confirmed their depth of insight and understanding of the matters of the heart. These writings have a proven record of drawing readers deeper in and higher up. Even their careful word choice is refreshing against the monosyllabic prattle that dominates our verbal landscape today.
Be aware that some of these writings are difficult to read. The language is from another century, after all. On top of that, they often deal with issues we are not used to discussing. So, rest easy and go slowly. Their treasures will emerge with time.
Another thing: you do not have to agree with everything you will find in these books. Their authority comes only by tested experience. This is, after all, a conversation.
You may be wondering if I have read and studied and experienced all these resources for myself. Well, many of these writers have become my friends, for I know them well—others less so. However, the direct answer to your question is, no, I have not read and studied and experienced them all. But, understand, this is not my list of books. These form a kind of canon of spiritual formation literature, and they are all well attested to as substantive resources for our growth in grace.
Seeing the Flow of Holy History
Here are all fifty books listed by century. I am hoping this will provide you with some sense of the flow of holy history. Also, I hope you will begin to see how “the great conversation” has been built from one century to the next. And the more you know about these writers and their writings, the more you will recognize the “conversations” that have gone on between them.
Many things become clearer as we look at these writings by century. Note, for example, how many came from the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Why? What was happening in these two centuries that would produce such explosive spiritual writings? Are there any parallels with our day and time? These are the kinds of questions that we can ponder with profit.
So, here is the list, century by century:
4th c.
The Life of Antony, Athanasius of Alexandria
The Confessions of St. Augustine, Augustine of Hippo
The Sayings of the Desert Fathers, Desert Fathers
4th–8th c.
The Creeds, Seven Ecumenical Councils
6th c.
The Rule of St. Benedict, Benedict of Nursia
12th c.
On the Love of God, Bernard of Clairvaux
13th c.
Treatise on the Virtues, Thomas Aquinas
The Little Flowers of St. Francis, Brother Ugolino
14th c.
The Cloud of Unknowing, Anonymous
The Divine Comedy, Dante Alighieri
The Fire of Love, Richard Rolle
Showings, Julian of Norwich
15th c.
The Imitation of Christ, Thomas à Kempis
16th c.
Private Devotions, Lancelot Andrewes
The Interior Castle, Teresa of Ávila
Institutes of the Christian Religion, John Calvin
The Book of Common Prayer, Thomas Cranmer
The Dark Night of the Soul, John of the Cross
The Story of a Soul, Thérèse of Lisieux
The Spiritual Exercises, Ignatius of Loyola
A Simple Way to Pray, Martin Luther
17th c.
The Practice of the Presence of God, Brother Lawrence
Paradise Lost, John Milton
The Temple, George Herbert
Pilgrim’s Progress, John Bunyan
Christian Perfection, François Fénelon
The Journal of George Fox, George Fox
Experiencing the Depths of Jesus Christ, Madame Guyon
Holy Living and Dying, Jeremy Taylor
Introduction to the Devout Life, Francis de Sales
18th c.
Abandonment to Divine Providence, Jean-Pierre de Caussade
A Treatise Concerning Religious Affections, Jonathan Edwards
A Serious Call to a Devout and Holy Life, William Law
A Plain Account of Christian Perfection, John Wesley
19th c.
The Journal of John Woolman, John Woolman
The Way of a Pilgrim, Anonymous
Power Through Prayer, E. M. Bounds
The Brothers Karamazov, Fyodor Dostoyevsky
Growth in Holiness, Frederick W. Faber
The Christian’s Secret of a Happy Life, Hannah Whitall Smith
20th c.
The Cost of Discipleship, Dietrich Bonhoeffer
Poustinia, Catherine de Hueck Doherty
Testament of Devotion, Thomas Kelly
Letters by a Modern Mystic, Frank Laubach
The Screwtape Letters, C. S. Lewis
The Seven Storey Mountain, Thomas Merton
The Spiritual Man, Watchman Nee (Ni Shu-tsu)
The Pursuit of God, A. W. Tozer
God’s Chosen Fast, Arthur Wallis
21st c.
Renovation of the Heart, Dallas Willard
Your Starter Kit
Okay, here is your starter kit of twelve resources. Obviously, the number twelve might cause you to think of this as a one-year reading/studying/experiencing program, one resource per month. And, yes, I did have that in mind. But you may prefer to go through them over two, three, or even four years. The key is to read slowly, bringing all you read into your own interior experience. It does us no good to read hurriedly about patience. No, we need to take our time until patience works its way deep into the habit structures of our heart and mind and body.
I will do my best to unpack these twelve resources sufficiently so that you can see their value for us. Just like you and I today, people down through the centuries have sought to overcome soul-crushing evils and enter into life-giving virtues. We can learn from their wisdom, even from their mistakes and failures. My hope is that these twelve resources will give you a good exposure to this life that is Life indeed.
Before you dive in, I want to suggest two resources that have been developed by our Renovaré team that could stand as a kind of “CliffNotes” to the devotional classics. The first is Devotional Classics, edited by James Bryan Smith and myself; the second is Spiritual Classics, edited by Emilie Griffin and myself. Both of these provide selected readings from the classics of devotion that will give you a brief taste of many of the writers discussed here, plus others. Devotional Classics provides selections that are well recognized from the canon of devotional literature. Spiritual Classics, on the other hand, focuses attention on great writers of devotion that are often underrepresented, most especially people of color and women. Enjoy.
1. Letters by a Modern Mystic by Frank Laubach
As Laubach uses the term, “mystic” refers to someone who believes that communion with God is actually possible—that we can talk with God and that God can talk with us. Read, for example, his Learning the Vocabulary of God and you will see what a living, vital experience this was for Laubach.
Letters by a Modern Mystic grew out of the ashes of a bitter disappointment. Laubach had worked as an educator in the Philippines for ten years, and when a decision was made to set up a college in Manila he desperately wanted the new position of college president. However, out of chivalry he voted for his opponent . . . and lost the presidency by one vote. With his educational career in shambles, Laubach retreated to beautiful Lake Lanao on the island of Mindanao. Here he was to discover his life work as the “Apostle of Literacy” to the “silent billion,” those who could neither read nor write. To this day the Laubach literacy method is used around the world. I personally witnessed its use among inner-city children in Long Beach, CA.
Laubach wrote a whole host of books over his lifetime, but these letters written on Mindanao stand above them all. Here God taught him many lessons, and among the first was about his own racism toward the Moro people. God spoke into his heart: “If you want the Moros to be fair to your religion, be fair to theirs. Study their Koran with them.” The next day, Moros crowded into Laubach’s little cottage, “each with a Koran under his arm. They were bent upon making a Moslem out of me! So we went to work with great zeal.” Laubach notes, “After that night on Signal Hill, when God killed my racial prejudice and made me color-blind, it seemed as though He were working miracles at every turn.”
By far the greatest miracle of all was the deep, interior formation of Laubach himself. On October 7, 1930, he wrote, “You see, I feel deeply about us all. Beside Jesus, the whole lot of us are so contemptible. I do not see how God stomachs us at all. But God is like Jesus, and He will not give up until we, too, are like Jesus.”
These letters are crammed with his intimate interactions with God and the resulting formation of soul. Here is one of my favorite stories: “The day had been rich but strenuous, so I climbed ‘Signal Hill’ back of my house, talking and listening to God all the way up, all the way back, all the lovely half hour on the top. And God talked back! I let my tongue go loose and from it there flowed poetry far more beautiful than any I ever composed. It flowed without pausing and without ever a failing syllable for a half hour. I listened astonished and full of joy and gratitude. I wanted a Dictaphone for I knew that I should not be able to remember it—and now I cannot. ‘Why,’ someone may ask, ‘did God waste His poetry on you alone, when you could not carry it home?’ You will have to ask God that question. I only know He did and I am happy in the memory.”
Stories like this are peppered throughout Letters by a Modern Mystic. I fell in love with the stories and the stories have helped me to fall in love with God all the more.
Laubach, Frank. Letters by a Modern Mystic. Eastford, CT: Martino Fine Books, 2012.
2. The Practice of the Presence of God by Brother Lawrence
Distraction is the great burden we bear in our emailing, tweeting, texting world. It scatters our thinking and distracts our relationships—indeed, our whole lives. So Brother Lawrence’s counsel to walk constantly in the presence of God is not just a nice idea for a seventeenth-century monk but a welcome necessity today for our fragmented lives.
Brother Lawrence of the Resurrection worked in a monastery kitchen cleaning and cooking for his brother monks. And he developed a habit—a holy habit, if you will—of “a loving gaze upon God” even in the hassle of multiple kitchen duties. He witnesses that “the time of business does not with me differ from the time of prayer; and in the noise and clatter of my kitchen, while several persons are at the same time calling for different things, I possess God in as great tranquility as if I were upon my knees at the blessed sacrament.”
Now, if you are like me you became excited about the prospect of practicing the presence of God and so tried it for yourself . . . and then fell flat on your face! If so, rest easy. Brother Lawrence says it took him ten years before entering such tranquility of soul. Maybe we could use a little more practice.
I am not sure that “practice makes perfect,” but it certainly helps. Brother Lawrence writes, “I do nothing else but abide in his holy presence, and I do this by simple attentiveness and an habitual, loving turning of my eyes on him. This I should call . . . a wordless and secret conversation between the soul and God which no longer ends.”
Brother Lawrence. The Practice of the Presence of God. New York: Doubleday, 1977, Translated by John J. Delaney.
3. The Life of Antony by Athanasius of Alexandria
If you know of Athanasius, it is likely from his pivotal book On the Incarnation. His teaching there became crystalized in the Nicene Creed, the critical phrases being that Jesus was “begotten not made” (in opposition to Arius’s position that Christ was created) and “of one substance with the Father” (in opposition to Nestorius’s position of the two distinct beings of Christ). So, we can thank God for Athanasius’s high Christology.
Here we focus on another of Athanasius’s writings, one that became something of a literary sensation in its day, The Life of Antony. Antony’s story had a profound impact upon Athanasius and he determined to introduce his amazing life to the watching world. Antony can be considered the Father of the Egyptian desert dwellers and his story is indeed a wonder and a marvel, especially his numerous encounters with demons.
He encountered so many, in fact, that he became know as a “warrior against demons.” Like me, you may be tempted (no pun intended—well, maybe a little) to dismiss such encounters out of hand. Before you do, however, note how subtle and psychologically suggestive they are. The stories deal with far more than conquering demons; more profoundly, they deal with the conquering of the self—the demons within. Throughout the stories are penetrating elements of self-scrutiny, self-knowledge, and self-mastery. Also, the stories carry with them the sense of growth in grace, of character formation, of clarifying the motives and intents of the heart.
They also carry a sense of askesis, the training in spiritual disciplines. There is solitude and fasting for the sake of intense, internal focus; meditation and prayer for the sake of deepening spiritual communion; Scripture study and reflection for the sake of transforming the mind; and manual labor for the sake of doing the works of the Father.
After twenty years in the desert, Antony is catapulted into one of the most remarkable ministries of that day. Athanasius writes, “All rejoiced while Antony talked about these things. In some, the love of virtue increased, in others carelessness was discarded, and in still others conceit was brought to an end. And all were persuaded to hate the demonic conniving, marveling at the grace given by the Lord to Antony for the discernment of spirits.” Interestingly, toward the end of his life Antony returned to the solitude of the Egyptian desert, free from any compulsive attachment to “his ministry.”
Athanasius of Alexandria. The Life of Antony and The Letter to Marcellinlus. New York: Paulist Press, 1980, Translated by Robert C. Cregg.
4. The Journal of John Woolman by John Woolman
In my college years I became keenly sensitive to the social justice concerns that Christ demands of us. No writing helped me more than The Journal of John Woolman. It gives attention to some of the most pressing social issues of his day—and of ours: racism, consumerism, militarism, and more. Woolman was the single most important individual in bringing the Society of Friends (Quakers) to utterly reject human slavery, and to do so before the American Declaration of Independence was signed.
For years Woolman had worked tirelessly with individuals over the slavery issue, but he knew this was not enough. For Quakers, the Philadelphia Yearly Meeting Sessions of 1758 became the great watershed on the slavery question. Woolman writes that leading up to this gathering he was “frequently covered with inward prayer, and I could say with David, ‘that tears were my meat day and night.’” He sat through the meeting in total silence, head bowed and tears in his eyes, as different people debated the issue, pro and con. Finally, Woolman rose to his feet and delivered one of the great speeches in American religious history. “My mind,” he declared, “is often led to consider the purity of the Divine Being, and the justice of his judgments; and herein my soul is covered with awfulness.” He continued on, reminding those assembled that the cries of the slaves have “reached the ears of the Most High” and that now is “not a time for delay.”
To his compassionate appeal this great assembly responded, without spoken dissent, to remove slavery from her midst. Of this gathering John Greenleaf Whittier enthusiastically declared that it “must ever be regarded as one of the most important religious convocations in the history of the Christian Church.”
It is events like this that have caused John Woolman to teach me so very much about the social justice implications of discipleship to Jesus. I’m confident he will help you too.
Woolman, John. The Journal and Major Essays of John Woolman. New York: Oxford University Press, 1971, Edited by Philips P. Moulton.
5. The Screwtape Letters by C. S. Lewis
Perhaps you are acquainted with several of Lewis’s writings, most notably Mere Christianity, The Problem of Pain, and perhaps The Chronicles of Narnia or his space trilogy. These are wonderful books to read and always instructive, but for our purpose of spiritual formation development we turn to The Screwtape Letters.
These imaginative letters from a senior devil (Screwtape) to a junior tempter (Wormwood, his nephew) are filled with moral and ascetic theology. It takes us only a few moments to understand that the insights into soul growth are always in reverse; instead of the ultimate goal being love, it is spiritual cannibalism, and so forth. It sets forth a rich psychology of temptation, but always from the opposite point of view. God is “the Enemy,” Satan is “our Father below.” Everything must smell and taste like hell. All experiences of freshness, beauty, and hope are eliminated. All that remains is cold, ruthless, and unsmiling.
I suggest that you have fun with this book. Enjoy the moral reversals. Play with them, considering other options to express hunger and fear and self-absorption. We can learn much from negative example. When dealing with pleasure as a tool for demonic temptation, Screwtape warns his young student, “Never forget that when we are dealing with any pleasure in its healthy and normal and satisfying form, we are, in a sense, on the Enemy’s ground. I know we have won many a soul through pleasure. All the same, it is His invention, not ours.”
As entertaining as it is, this is one book I suggest you not linger on for an extended period. Perpetual diabolical thoughts have a way of sucking the life out of a person. Lewis himself felt this in the writing, confessing that it “produced a sort of spiritual cramp. The work into which I had to project myself while I spoke through Screwtape was all dust, grit, thirst, and itch.”
Lewis, C. S. The Screwtape Letters. San Francisco: HarperOne, 2015.
6. The Imitation of Christ by Thomas à Kempis
For half a millennium, The Imitation has been the unchallenged devotional masterpiece for Christians everywhere. This simple book that distills the insights of a dynamic spiritual movement of the fifteenth century known as “The Brethren of the Common Life”—which was, in turn, an important expression of the Devotio Moderna (New Devotion)—has enriched us immensely.
So much of this book speaks to my condition. I especially like the third section (Book 3), which is couched in the form of a dialogue between the disciple and Jesus. (This is made expressly clear in the William Creasy translation.) Here is a small taste:
JESUS: “My dear friend, you are not yet a courageous and wise lover.”
DISCIPLE: “Why, Lord?”
JESUS: “Because at the least little hardship you drop what you are doing and you impatiently look around for a word of comfort from anyone who happens to be close at hand . . . As I please you in good times, so I shall not displease you in bad times. The wise lover does not consider so much the lover’s gift, as the giver’s love.”
Here is a counsel from à Kempis that is just right for our contemporary context: “We should read devout and simple books as willingly as we read those that are lofty and profound. Do not let the writer’s authority or learning influence you, be it little or great, but let the love of pure truth attract you to read.”
Section four (Book 4) focuses on the Eucharist and, as you would expect, à Kempis shares sentiments and convictions that are expressly Roman Catholic. If you understand this, we all—Catholic and Orthodox and Protestant alike—can benefit from tender expressions like these words of the disciple, “I thank you, good Jesus, eternal Shepherd, for choosing to nourish us with your precious Body and Blood and for inviting us by your own words to share in these mysteries, saying: ‘Come to me all you who labor and are burdened, and I shall refresh you.’”
In summary, I am drawn to the words of Thomas De Quincey who speaks of the Imitation’s “slender rivulets of truth silently stealing away into light.”
Thomas à Kempis. The Imitation of Christ. Macon, Georgia, Mercer University Press, 1989, Translated by William C. Creasy.
7. A Testament of Devotion by Thomas Kelly
To this day I vividly remember my first encounter with this slender book. I was at the Dulles International Airport preparing for a flight from DC to LA. And irrevocably Kelly drew me into the subterranean chambers of my soul. The cold rain splattering on the window outside matched the hot tears splattering on my jacket. I was never to be the same.
This book contains flashes of insight that have an uncanny ability to captivate our heart. Listen: “I find God never guides us into an intolerable scramble of panting feverishness.” Or this: “The pure in heart shall see God? More, they who see God shall cry out to become pure in heart, even as He is pure, with all the energy of their souls.”
Kelly coined the term “the divine Center” and he concludes his book with a reference to this most unusual and original phrase; “Life from the Center is a life of unhurried peace and power. It is simple. It is serene. It is amazing. It is triumphant. It is radiant. It takes no time, but it occupies all our time. And it makes our life programs new and overcoming. We need not get frantic. He is at the helm. And when our little day is done we lie down quietly in peace, for all is well.”
In our day we have so few great saints and so few great writings of devotion that when we discover such a person and such a writing we will do well to treasure both.
Kelly, Thomas. A Testament of Devotion. New York: HarperCollins, 1996.
8. Experiencing the Depths of Jesus Christ by Madame Guyon
This little book is a wonder and a masterpiece of the interior life. Its simplicity is stunning. Guyon herself says that she penned these words “to induce the whole world to love God and to serve Him in a way that is easier and simpler than any could imagine.”
Actually, this little book was written primarily for those who could not read for themselves and others were to read it to them. She speaks with great tenderness to the person who could not read: “You may feel you are unqualified to know the depths of your Lord. But in fact, you are really blessed. The blessing in not being able to read is that prayer may become your reading! Do you not know that the greatest book is Jesus Christ Himself? He is a Book who has been written on within and without. He will teach you all things. Read Him!”
We must not disregard this book because of its simplicity of style, for it is filled with a profound experience of God. Listen to her simple, experience-filled definition of prayer: “What is prayer? Prayer is a certain warmth of love. Ah, but more! Prayer is a melting! Prayer is a dissolving and an uplifting of the soul.” So, my friend, enjoy the ease by which Jeanne Guyon guides us into the “depths of Jesus Christ.”
Guyon, Jeanne. Experiencing the Depths of Jesus Christ. Translated by Gene Edwards. Sargent, GA: SeedSowers, 1975.
9. The Confessions of St. Augustine by Augustine of Hippo
With his Confessions, Augustine originated the paradigm for all future autobiography. It is filled with revealing personal stories, profound psychological insights, and complex philosophic reflections. He opens with his famous prayer to the Lord of all creation, “You made us for yourself, and our heart is restless until it find rest in you.”
Augustine reveals fascinating aspects of his intellectual search—from Cicero who gave him an ardent love of wisdom; to Manichaeism, with its absolute dualism of good and evil; to “the Academics” who embraced agnosticism; to the Neo-Platonists who became a kind of pre-evangelism for Augustine; and finally to life in Christ and his power over “the whirlpools of vice” and the academic sins of pride and power and all “the arts of deception.”
On his intellectual journey Augustine is brutally honest about his inability to overcome “the swirling mists of lust.” As a student in Carthage he was thrust into “a hissing cauldron of lust.” It was during these years Augustine took to himself a concubine, and she bore them a son, Adeodatus.
Augustine found himself trapped in a contradiction: on the one hand searching for the good, the true, and the beautiful; on the other hand, finding himself a moral prisoner to “a whole frying-pan of wicked loves.” He confessed, “The enemy held my will and made a chain out of it and bound me with it. From a perverse will came lust, and slavery to lust became a habit, and the habit, being constantly yielded to, became a necessity.”
Outside of Scripture itself Augustine’s Confessions record what is arguably the most famous conversion story in the Christian canon. It occurs in a small garden in Milan—well, perhaps it is best for you to read what happens for yourself, along with everything that follows: “Take and read.”
Augustine of Hippo. The Confessions of St. Augustine. New York: Thomas Nelson Publishers, 1983, Translated by E. M. Blaiklock.
10. Poustinia by Catherine de Hueck Doherty
Poustinia is a Russian word meaning “desert,” and Catherine from childhood received the piety of a distinctively Russian incarnation of the gospel. For me this book was a graceful introduction to the treasures of Russian Orthodox spirituality. A special feature of this spirituality is the construction of small cabin-like “Poustinias” where a person from the community, a Poustinik, can go for personal, silent retreat, usually for twenty-four hours. The Poustinia is described as the place “where heaven meets earth.” Those who enter these periodic retreats do so not just for themselves but also for the entire community, and they are to bring back to the community any word from God they receive while in retreat.
The Poustinia cabin itself is small and simple: a hard bed, a small table and chair, the Bible, and a plain cross. On my occasional trips to Great Britain I have visited Poustinias (though I have not taken retreat in them), and they are indeed simple in the extreme.
Silence and solitude are marks of the Poustinia. Catherine writes, “True silence is a garden enclosed, where alone the soul can meet its God. It is a sealed fountain that he alone can unseal to slacken the soul’s infinite thirst for him.” And again, “True silence is a key to the immense and flaming heart of God. It is the beginning of a divine courtship that will end only in the immense, creative, fruitful, loving silence of final union with the Beloved.”
Catherine also stresses the importance of “the poustinia of the heart.” She writes, “Deserts, silence, solitude. For a soul that realized the tremendous need of all three, opportunities present themselves in the midst of the congested trappings of all the world’s immense cities.”
Well, perhaps this will encourage you to learn more from Catherine Doherty and the communities that have sprung up around her teaching so that you too can “listen to God’s speech in his wondrous, terrible, gentle, loving, all-embracing silence.”
Doherty, Catherine de Hueck. Poustinia: Encountering God in Silence, Solitude and Prayer. 3rd ed. Combermere, Ontario: Madonna House Publications, 2000.
11. Renovation of the Heart by Dallas Willard
All of Willard’s writings in Christian spirituality are well worth the investment. I focus on Renovation for two reasons. First, it provides an exceedingly thoughtful analysis of the human person: spirit (heart/will), mind (thought/feelings), body, social context (interactions), and soul. In doing this, Willard is bringing to us his vast knowledge from his chosen field of philosophy in a way we can understand. Second, it provides us with the most thorough teaching on how the human personality is actually formed, conformed, and transformed into the image of Christ.
Two chapters particularly deserve attention. The first, entitled “Transforming the Soul,” takes head-on all the intellectual fads of today that attempt to deny the existence of the soul. Willard is well equipped to do this with his extensive knowledge of the biblical material as well as being a well-recognized expert in Plato’s Republic, a book he described as a work on the soul. The other chapter is “Spiritual Formation in the Local Congregation.” Here Willard provides wise and practical counsel for churches, large and small, to actually becoming “children of light.”
Explaining the central purpose for Renovation, Willard writes, “I have tried to gently ignore the many vessels of spiritual formation that litter the historical and contemporary landscapes and concentrate on the treasure: Jesus Christ himself, living with increasing fullness in every essential dimension of the personality of the individual devoted to him as Savior and Teacher.”
If you will allow a personal note: I knew and worked with Dallas Willard for forty-plus years and I can say without equivocation that the gentleness of soul and warmth of heart that people were drawn to in his teaching were matched by his daily life. Not perfectly, mind you, but substantially so.
Willard, Dallas. Renovation of the Heart: Putting On the Character of Christ. Colorado Springs: NavPress, 2012.
12. The Interior Castle by Teresa of Ávila
The Interior Castle is the best and most thorough teaching on, and experience of, Christian prayer that I have ever come upon—not prayer as an occasional exercise, like a faucet that we can turn on and off at will, but prayer as the river of life in which we swim.
The Interior Castle positively dances with metaphor, or one extended metaphor really, picturing the soul as a crystal or diamond castle. This metaphor came to Teresa through prayer itself: “Today while beseeching our Lord to speak for me because I wasn’t able to think of anything to say . . . there came to my mind . . . our soul . . . like a castle made entirely out of a diamond or of very clear crystal, in which there are many rooms. . . .”
What is surprising about this image is the movement inward as Teresa guides us from the outermost rooms further and further in, room after room, until we arrive at the innermost regions of the “palace where the king lives.” This image of going deeper and deeper inward must have been a shock to the sixteenth-century mind-set, for their whole worldview was hierarchical—movement upward. But it is helpful for us to recognize that this movement inward shocks us too, since movement outward—doing, accomplishing, achieving—dominates our worldview. I imagine Teresa has much to teach us today about what it means to move inward.
Nothing quite compares to Teresa’s galvanizing, almost erotic description of communion with God. The soul is a paradise where the Lord says he finds his delight. The body is the outer walls of the castle. Self-knowledge is a room in this castle. In the final dwelling places, we come to the ultimate arrival of spiritual intimacy between God and ourselves—union. Here Teresa turns, as if inevitably, to the metaphor of marriage. Not marriage as a modest, domestic arrangement. Oh, no. This is marriage as the passionate union of the beloveds where “God carries off for Himself the entire soul, and, as to someone who is His own and His spouse.”
It has taken me many years to work my way through The Interior Castle. I never seemed to be able to take in too much at any one time. Sometimes, I felt like I was still standing out on the front porch. At other times, I no doubt have been wandering around in circles in some of the side halls. But, with patience and a whole lot of time, I did indeed begin to recognize a clear progression forward in the spiritual life.
The beauty of The Interior Castle is that you and I can call upon “His majesty” to help us, just as he helped Teresa. And the crystal palace of our soul will, in time and through experience, increasingly glow with the divine Presence.
St. Teresa of Ávila. The Interior Castle. Translated by Mirabai Starr. New York: Riverhead Books, 2003.
Welcome to “The Great Conversation”
All right, you are now ready to explore on your own. Again, feel free to go wherever your needs and your heart may lead you. You need not read everything. Some books I have gone into and out of over the years. Just remember that the goal of what we do read is to penetrate down, down, down until we are deeply formed by the reading. I am only able to provide a brief comment on each of these resources; otherwise, this small essay will turn into a tome of its own! By the time you have come to this list I am sure you will have the wisdom and the skills to learn and discover on your own. Happy reading . . . and welcome to the conversation.
Andrewes, Lancelot. Private Devotions. (Online; Christian Classics Ethereal Library, Devotions of Bishop Andrewes, Vol. I.)
Andrewes was one of the translators of the King James Bible. Here is the “Preces Priatae,” the private devotions, of a very public man. Many have loved this book for the intimate prayers for morning and evening that flow from Andrewes’s heart.
Anonymous. The Cloud of Unknowing. San Francisco: HarperOne, 2004.
This anonymous author reminds us that we move through “the cloud of unknowing” into the presence of God not with our mind but with our love: “Beat upon the cloud of unknowing with the hammer of your love” and “pierce the cloud of unknowing with the arrow of your love.” Then this counsel: “This little act of loving called contemplation mysteriously contains humility and charity, as well as all the other virtues.”
Anonymous. The Way of a Pilgrim. Translated by R. M. French. San Francisco: HarperOne, 2010.
Most of us have been introduced to the “Jesus Prayer” (“Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner”) through this book about a Russian pilgrim who wants to learn to “pray without ceasing” (1 Thess. 5:17, KJV). The story follows our anonymous pilgrim’s journey and what he learns by means of the Jesus Prayer, a way of prayer long practiced in the Eastern Orthodox tradition. Some have suggested that the anonymity of author and pilgrim are meant to remind us that we are all pilgrims on “the way” of Christ.
Aquinas, Thomas. Treatise on the Virtues. Translated by John A. Oesterle. South Bend, IN: University of Notre Dame Press, 1992.
This book is a section taken from the Summa Theologica (Questions 49–67), which focuses upon “habit” and the intellectual and moral virtues. Be prepared; I found this read to be no walk in the park, but I also found it to be well worth the effort.
Benedict of Nursia. The Rule of St. Benedict. Translated by Rev. Boniface Verheyen. United Kingdom: Aziloth Books, 2012.
I have often wondered how such a slender book with such simple rules for living together could spark such a widespread renewal, and for so many centuries. Well, whenever spiritual anarchy abounds, God raises up a Benedict to bring order out of the chaos. These are simple instructions for what Benedict called a “school for the Lord’s service.” I found his “twelve steps into humility” to be especially helpful in dealing with pride and arrogance, which are two of the most deeply ingrained vices of our day.
Bernard of Clairvaux. On the Love of God. London: Aeterna Press, 2015.
If anyone deserves to stand beside the apostle John as another “apostle of love,” it has to be Bernard. In this writing he cuts through all of our ego-strutting activity and calls us once again to love God in purity of heart, in sincerity of soul, and in holiness of life.
Bonhoeffer, Dietrich. The Cost of Discipleship. New York: Touchstone, 1995.
As a young budding disciple of Jesus, this book saved me for the Christian faith. In it I, at last, found a serious wrestling with the implications of Jesus’ “Sermon on the Mount” from Matthew 5–7. I was, of course, much taken by the life story and eventual martyrdom of Bonhoeffer. But more, it was Bonhoeffer’s refusal to explain away Jesus’ clear teaching as an “impossible ideal.” He writes, “Humanly speaking, we could understand and interpret the Sermon on the Mount in a thousand different ways. Jesus knows only one possibility: simple surrender and obedience, not interpreting it or applying it, but doing and obeying it.”
Bounds, E. M. Power Through Prayer. Atlanta: Trinity Press, 2012.
I was first instructed in the heart and spirit of prayer by this little book. It taught no methods, no arguments, no definitions. Rather it taught me an inner disposition and a deep-rooted devotion. In the early years, I read it over and over and over. It was here that I learned to burn the eternal flame of love on the altar of devotion.
Brother Ugolino. The Little Flowers of St. Francis. Translated by Raphael Brown. New York: Doubleday, 1971.
The Little Flowers (often referred to by the original Italian title, Fioretti) is an example of hagiography—biographical writing that overly idealizes a person—to be sure. But with St. Francis we have a life that rises to the level of hagiography. Bonaventure said of Francis, “By the range of virtues which shone forth in his life, he stood head and shoulders above all others.” I hope you can revel in these delightful, even fanciful, stories of Francis and his band of friars minor (little friars).
Bunyan, John. The Pilgrim’s Progress. New York: Dover, 2003.
Our life is a journey, a pilgrimage, a gripping adventure from this age to the age-to-come; so teaches Bunyan in Pilgrim’s Progress. Along the way “Christian” encounters a variety of characters and situations that at times encourage and at other times challenge his spiritual formation. He must travel through the Slough of Despond and the Hill of Difficulty and the Valley of Humiliation. Oh—and Vanity Fair. He must deal with Mr. Worldly Wiseman and Mr. Legality. But he also encounters Mr. Greatheart and Faithful and Hopeful. Allegory is not exactly my cup of tea, but Pilgrim’s Progress does top the charts for this genre.
Calvin, John. Institutes of the Christian Religion. Peabody, MA: Institutes of Christian Religion, 2008.
We normally think of the Institutes as a masterpiece of theology, and it certainly is that. But in the title page Calvin boldly declares that it contains “almost the whole sum of piety” and is “a work most worthy to be read by all persons zealous for piety.” Is it possible that Calvin can help bring us into a creative synthesis of theology and devotion?
de Caussade, Jean-Pierre. Abandonment to Divine Providence. Translated by John Beevers. New York: Doubleday, 1993.
Kitty Muggeridge produced a lovely translation of this book under the title The Sacrament of the Present Moment, which is a phrase lifted from the book itself. Listen: “O bread of angels, celestial manna, precious Evangel, sacrament of the present moment, you bring God to the mean surroundings of a lowly stable in a manger among straw and hay.” For me, it is these wonderful flights of literary skill that make this book such a treasure. I leave you with one of my favorites: “The only condition necessary for this state of self-surrender is the present moment in which the soul, light as a feather, fluid as water, innocent as a child, responds to every movement of grace like a floating balloon.”
Cranmer, Thomas, ed. The Book of Common Prayer. New York: Church Publishing: 1979.
This is the best and most widely used prayer book in the English language. The difference between a prayer book and a book of prayers is that the prayer book provides an entire worship liturgy in which the written prayers are used. This particular prayer book has given us memorable English phrases like “till death do us part” for weddings and “ashes to ashes, dust to dust” for funerals.
Dante Alighieri. The Divine Comedy. Translated by John Ciardi. New York: Penguin, 2003.
This has to be history’s greatest poem. The Roman poet Virgil guides our author protagonist Dante through hell (the Inferno) and purgatory (the Pergatorio). But Virgil, as the image of pure reason, is not qualified to lead Dante into heaven (the Paradiso). Pure reason can take us only so far; pure love is needed here to penetrate the wonders of heaven. Beatrice, the image of pure love, then takes over to become Dante’s guide for the final part of the journey.
de Sales, Francis. Introduction to the Devout Life. Charlotte, NC: TAN Books, 2010.
This series of letters written to the wife of an ambassador whom he calls “Philothea”—Lover of God—has become recognized as one of the great masterpieces of devotional literature. Filled with delightful metaphors, de Sales unpacks for us an understanding of “devotion” that is broad and expansive. On the vertical plane, “true devotion” means a head-over-heels, white-hot love of God. On the horizontal plane, it means the heartfelt habit of “charity,” which for de Sales involves a strength to serve others that is free from guile.
Desert Fathers. The Sayings of the Desert Fathers. Edited by Benedicta Ward. New York: Penguin: 2003.
This contains stories of followers of Jesus like Abba Anthony (yes, the same Antony Athanasius wrote about) and Abba John the Dwarf who fled into the Egyptian desert in order to find God . . . and to fight the devil. These followers of Christ were seeking to become the athletae Dei, the athletes of God. They renounced possessions in order to learn detachment; they renounced speech in order to learn compassion; they renounced activity in order to learn prayer. My bet is that these strange accounts will delight you, frustrate you, puzzle you, and warm your heart all at the same time. Enjoy.
Dostoyevsky, Fyodor. The Brothers Karamazov. Translated by David McDuff. New York: Penguin, 2003.
This great, sprawling novel was completed only months before Dostoyevsky died. I include it here because of the spiritual drama of deceit, betrayal, infidelity, and murder, and also because of its intriguing ethical debates about God and free will. And we must not forget its most famous chapter, “The Grand Inquisitor.” For me the great value of the novel is the uncanny way it has of revealing to us our own soul, especially the dark side of our motives and instincts.
Edwards, Jonathan. A Treatise Concerning Religious Affections. Pantianos Classics, 2017.
The Great Awakening in eighteenth-century America elicited enormous religious enthusiasm among the common people, along with severe criticism among many clergy for the “vulgar sentiments” that went on at these meetings. Jonathan Edwards defended these revivals of faith by writing a carefully delineated defense of the place of “religious affections” in Christian experience. “True religion, in great part, consists in holy affections,” he argued. He further counseled the people that the goal of revival ought always to be a holy life and not merely emotional experiences.
Faber, Frederick W. Growth in Holiness. Charlotte, NC: TAN Books, 1990.
I was first introduced to Faber through the writings of A. W. Tozer—see how the conversation keeps on going! Also, Faber’s great hymn “There’s a Wideness in God’s Mercy” drew me to him. Well, Growth in Holiness is probably his most important book. His words on the slowness of God as a divine attribute are quite moving: “There is something greatly overawing in the extreme slowness of God. We must wait for God, long, meekly, in the wind and wet, in the thunder and the lightning, in the cold and the dark. Wait, and He will come.”
Fénelon, François. Christian Perfection. Minneapolis: Bethany House Publishers, 1975.
This little book defeated me numerous times as I was attempting to speed-read it because it simply does not yield its treasures to speed-reading. It is a book of devotion, and we must approach it slowly with a heart of devotion. When writing on “the use of time,” Fénelon observes, “Happy the soul which by a sincere self-renunciation, holds itself ceaselessly in the hands of its Creator, ready to do everything which he wishes; which never stops saying to itself a hundred times a day, ‘Lord, what wouldst thou that I should do?’”
Fox, George. The Journal of George Fox. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1952, Revised edition by John L. Nickalls.
In autobiographic style, these are dynamic and even brash writings of the founder of the Quakers. His message focused on taking people off of all human systems and leading them to Christ “who is here to teach his people himself.” I have always been encouraged by the bursts of experiential insight that pepper this book, like “I saw also that there was an ocean of darkness and death, but an infinite ocean of light and love, which flowed over the ocean of darkness.”
Herbert, George. The Temple. New York: Paulist Press, 1981, Classics of Western Spirituality.
This magnificent poem is both “heart-work” and “Heaven-work” according to Richard Baxter. Its sheer beauty of word choice makes it worth the read. What touches me the most is Herbert’s careful attention to human suffering, “A broken ALTAR, Lord, thy servant rears,/Made of a heart, and cemented with tears.” Me too.
Ignatius of Loyola. The Spiritual Exercises. Boston: Daughters of St. Paul, 1978.
I want to commend to you the four-part structure of the retreat experience that has grown out of Ignatius’s spiritual exercises. The first week is given to the contemplation of our sin in the light of God’s love; we all need a deeper musing upon our perennial knack for disobedience and God’s unbounded habit of mercy. The second week focuses on the life of Christ; we all need a richer contemplation upon that Life that shows us the way so we may follow “in his steps.” The third week centers on the crucifixion of Christ; we all need a fuller meditation upon that Death that gives us life. And, finally, the fourth week focuses on the resurrection of Christ; we all need a more profound experience of that resurrection Life that empowers us to obey Christ in all things.
John of the Cross. The Dark Night of the Soul. San Francisco: HarperOne, 2005.
What John of the Cross calls “the dark night of the soul” is a universal experience for the great writers of devotion. To desire spiritual maturity without the dark night is like an athlete hoping to become a champion without training or an author expecting to produce a great book without thinking. This centers on John’s teaching of detachment—nada in Spanish. The great “take-home” for me is John’s insistence that nothing is important except for God. Nothing. We are stripped of every attachment, every entanglement. We are not even to cling to mystical experiences of one kind or another. Nada!
Julian of Norwich. Showings. Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press, 1978.
For half a year I focused my devotional reading exclusively on Julian’s Showings (at times also titled Revelations of Divine Love) to see what I could learn from this lady who was the very first woman to write a book in English. I have indeed learned much . . . almost too much for this simple soul! Listen to her meditation (and experience) of the Trinitarian character of God: “For the Trinity is God, God is the Trinity. The Trinity is our maker, the Trinity is our protector, the Trinity is our everlasting lover, the Trinity is our endless joy and our bliss, by our Lord Jesus Christ and in our Lord Jesus Christ.”
Law, William. A Serious Call to a Devout and Holy Life. New York: Paulist Press1978, (The Classics of Western Spirituality) Edited by Paul G. Stanwood.
How vividly I still remember my first experience with A Serious Call. For two weeks I was in old-town San Diego and each morning I would sit quietly in an open-air restaurant reveling in Law’s insistence that “Devotion signifies a life given or devoted to God.” I still have a brightly colored napkin from that restaurant tucked into A Serious Call as if it were a bookmark. One of the most winsome aspects of this book is Law’s insistence that our spiritual life must always express itself in daily life. Without this our religious exercises become, in Law’s words, only “lip labor.”
Luther, Martin. A Simple Way to Pray. Translated by Matthew C. Harrison. St. Louis, MO: Concordia Publishing, 2012.
We, of course, know of Luther’s thundering Ninety-Five Theses and his many other writings that helped spark the Protestant Reformation. A Simple Way to Pray came about in an entirely different way—hidden and unpretentious. Luther’s barber and good friend, Peter Beskendorf, asked him for practical guidance on how he should prepare for prayer. So Luther sat down and wrote an extended (and quite wonderful) letter providing his barber (and us) with wise counsel on prayer. It begins just right: “I will tell you as best I can what I do personally when I pray. May our dear Lord grant to you and to everybody to do it better than I! Amen.”
Merton, Thomas. The Seven Storey Mountain. New York: Harcourt, 1999.
This is an enormously revealing autobiography that is among the best. Listen to this snippet: “By the time the summer was over, I was to become conscious of the fact that the only way to live was to live in a world that was charged with the presence and reality of God.”
Milton, John. Paradise Lost. Edited by John Leonard. New York: Penguin, 2003.
Clearly we have here a great epic poem written by one of the greatest of the English poets. It has two narrative arcs. The first is the fall of Satan and his minions in the great Angelic War in which he famously declares, “Better to reign in hell than to serve in heaven.” The second arc follows the fall of Adam and Eve and their expulsion from the Garden of Eden. C. S. Lewis describes Paradise Lost as a “genuine Christian morality tale.” And Milton himself (in Book I) states that his purpose is to “justify the ways of God to men.” What is genuinely impressive to me is realizing that Milton composed Paradise Lost after losing his eyesight.
Nee, Watchman (Ni Shu-tsu). The Spiritual Man. New York: Christian Fellowship Publishers, 1968.
Nee was a Chinese Christian of extraordinary communication skills. Many books have been published from Nee’s spoken ministry (I know, since I have a couple dozen in my personal library); probably the best known is The Normal Christian Life. To my knowledge The Spiritual Man is the only book Nee actually wrote himself. This three-volume book is quite an ambitious study in spiritual growth and maturity, especially for a young man of twenty-five. Nee is especially known for the founding of the “Little Flock,” mainly house churches completely independent of western missionary financing—and influence. He suffered brutally for his faith—over twenty years in Chinese Communist prisons—and was finally released only three months before his death.
Rolle, Richard. The Fire of Love. Translated by Clifton Wolters. New York: Penguin, 1995.
A dear friend, the poet Robert Siegel, gave me this book saying he thought I would identify with it. Was he ever right! This is a superb, even tender statement of the affirmative way, the via positiva. Listen: “My love, my honey, my harp, my psalter and song the whole day long. When are you going to heal my grief, You, the root of my heart?”
Seven Ecumenical Councils. The Creeds. (Various editions.)
We owe a huge debt to Christians in the early centuries that struggled to find a language for understanding the great mysteries that had burst on the scene with the Christ event. I found great help in understanding these Seven Ecumenical Councils as normative for all Christians at all times. I suggest you give special attention to the First Council of Nicaea in A.D. 325 which confessed Christ as fully divine; the First Council of Constantinople in A.D. 381 which confessed Christ as fully human; and the Council of Chalcedon in A.D. 451 which confessed the unity of Christ—two natures, one person.
Smith, Hannah Whitall. The Christian’s Secret of a Happy Life. Grand Rapids, MI: Revell, 2012.
In her opening paragraph Smith writes, “I saw, as in a flash, that the religion of Christ ought to be, and was meant to be, to its possessors, not something to make them miserable, but something to make them happy; and I began then and there to ask the Lord to show me the secret of a happy Christian life.” Smith’s intent was not to discover some shallow optimism. Instead she was seeking the rock-solid “life, and that more abundantly” that the Savior promised. This book describes the result of her search.
Taylor, Jeremy. Holy Living and Dying. New York: Magisterium Press, 2015.
Originally this was two books: The Rule and Exercise of Holy Living and The Rule and Exercise of Holy Dying—these old writers certainly did not believe in short titles! The first work covers themes of virtue and piety as well as instruction on avoiding temptation. The second, as you can guess, deals with how we are to die well, which was a whole class of literature at that time. In our day we truly need instruction in both areas, perhaps most especially in dying well.
Thérèse of Lisieux. The Story of a Soul. Edited by Mother Agnes of Jesus. Translated by Michael Day. Charlotte, NC: TAN Books, 2010.
I have visited the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Little Flower in San Antonio, Texas. Most moving is the 7”×10” painting of St. Thérèse by her blood sister. The rest is certainly impressive and beautiful in a liturgical sort of way, but it may be a bit much for “the little flower.” Thérèse wrote, “Love proves itself by deeds, so how shall I show my love? Great deeds are forbidden me. The only way I can prove my love is by scattering flowers and these flowers are every little sacrifice, every glance and word, and the doing of the least actions for love.” I especially appreciate Thérèse’s petite voie or “little way” because it encourages those of us whose days involve living a mostly hidden life of service to our children and our neighbors.
Tozer, A. W. The Pursuit of God. Harrisburg, PA: Christian Publications, Inc. n.d. (Tozer’s Preface is dated June 16, 1948.)
Tozer was the first writer to give me a glimpse of the great masters of devotion. Self-educated, he was nevertheless a voracious reader of the early church fathers, the monastic writers, and many experiential Protestants such as John Wesley and Jonathan Edwards. I was shocked, delightfully so, to read a deeply rooted evangelical who would quote Thomas à Kempis and Frederick W. Faber. His own writings reflect the same spirit. I leave you with an insight from Tozer himself: “Faith is the gaze of a soul upon a saving God.”
Wallis, Arthur. God’s Chosen Fast. Fort Washington, PA: Christian Literature Crusade, 1968.
Books exclusively devoted to fasting as a Christian Spiritual Discipline are few and far between. For those that are around, this one, I think, is the best. It contains a solid biblical basis and good practical counsel for fasting. It certainly helped me. I especially appreciate the diary of a twenty-one-day fast that is toward the end of the book (Chapter 22).
Wesley, John. A Plain Account of Christian Perfection. (online in Christian Classics Ethereal Library.)
This is a collection of sermons by Wesley from over a thirty-year period arguing that the salvation that is in Jesus Christ not only brings us the forgiveness of sins but also breaks sin’s power over our lives. “He breaks the power of canceled sin, he sets the prisoner free . . .” goes the Wesleyan hymn. Insisting that a genuinely holy life is the great distinguishing sign of true saving grace was certainly a controversial teaching in Wesley’s day. Today, too!