CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: Of the Christian Life (part 2 of 2)
Would it not be a great shame for us to value the things the Lord has so highly esteemed less than the pleasures of this world, which immediately vanish like smoke?
Since Scripture thus comforts us in every disgrace and calamity we must endure for the defense of righteousness, we are exceedingly ungrateful if we do not bear them patiently and with a cheerful heart —especially since this kind of cross belongs to believers above all others, and through it Christ wills to be glorified in them, as Saint Peter says.
Yet God does not require from us a joy that removes every bitterness of sorrow.
Otherwise, the patience of the saints under the cross would amount to nothing unless they were tormented by pain and felt anguish when they were afflicted. Likewise, if poverty were not harsh and bitter to them, if they suffered no torment in sickness, if disgrace did not wound them, and if death did not fill them with horror, what strength or moderation would there be in despising all these things?
But since each of these carries its own bitterness, by which it naturally pierces every human heart, the strength of a believer is displayed when, though assailed by the sharpness of such suffering and grievously distressed, he nevertheless resists, overcomes, and rises above it. His patience is manifested when, though provoked by that same anguish, he is nevertheless restrained by the fear of God, as by a bridle, from breaking forth into any excess. His joy and gladness appear when, though wounded by sorrow and pain, he nevertheless rests content in the spiritual consolation of God.
The struggle believers sustain against the natural sense of pain, while pursuing patience and moderation, is very well described by Saint Paul in these words:
“We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; we suffer poverty, but are not left destitute; we are persecuted, but not abandoned; we are struck down, but do not perish.”
We see that patiently bearing the cross does not mean becoming entirely insensible and feeling no pain, as the Stoic philosophers foolishly portrayed the courageous man of old: one who, having stripped himself of his humanity, would be no more affected by adversity than by prosperity, no more by sorrowful things than by joyful ones—or rather, who would be as unfeeling as a stone.
And what did they accomplish by this lofty wisdom? They painted an image of patience that has never existed among men and never can exist. Indeed, by seeking a patience that was too refined, they deprived mankind of its actual practice.
Even now, there are similar people among Christians who regard it as a fault not only to groan and weep but even to grieve and feel anxiety. Such inhuman opinions generally proceed from idle men who exercise themselves more in speculation than in putting their hands to the work, and therefore can produce nothing but such fantasies.
For our part, we have no use for this harsh and rigorous philosophy, which our Lord Jesus condemned not only by his words but also by his example. He groaned and wept both over his own sorrow and out of compassion for others, and he taught his disciples no differently:
“The world will rejoice, but you will be sorrowful; it will laugh, but you will weep.”
And lest anyone should regard this as a fault, he pronounces those who mourn blessed.
This is no wonder. For if all tears are condemned, what judgment shall we make of the Lord Jesus, from whose body drops of blood fell? If every fear is branded as unbelief, what shall we think of the horror by which he was so profoundly overwhelmed? How shall we approve his confession that his soul was sorrowful even unto death?
I have said these things to preserve all godly hearts from despair, so that they may not abandon the pursuit of patience merely because they have not been entirely freed from the natural feeling of sorrow.
Those who make patience consist in insensibility, and turn a strong and steadfast man into a block of wood, must inevitably lose heart and fall into despair when they attempt to practice patience.
Scripture, on the contrary, praises the saints for endurance when they are so afflicted by the severity of their sufferings that they are not thereby broken and made to faint; when they are so pierced with bitterness that spiritual joy remains with them; and when they are so oppressed by anguish that they nevertheless continue to breathe, rejoicing in the consolation of God.
Meanwhile, this conflict takes place within their hearts: their natural feeling flees from and abhors everything opposed to it, while the affection of godliness draws them through these difficulties into obedience to the will of God. Christ expressed this conflict when he said to Saint Peter:
“When you were young, you girded yourself and walked wherever you wished; but when you are old, another will gird you and lead you where you do not wish to go.”
Certainly, it is not likely that Saint Peter, when he was to glorify God by his death, was dragged to it by force and against his will; otherwise, his martyrdom would deserve little praise. Nevertheless, although he submitted to God’s ordinance with a willing and joyful heart, he had not ceased to be human and was therefore divided between two inclinations.
For when he considered the cruel death he was to suffer, being terrified by its horror, he would willingly have escaped it. Yet when he considered that he was called to it by God’s command, he presented himself willingly and even joyfully, trampling every fear beneath his feet.
Therefore, if we desire to be disciples of Christ, we must strive to fill our hearts with such reverence and obedience toward God that they may tame and subdue every affection opposed to his good pleasure. Then, whatever tribulation we may undergo, and however great our anguish of heart, we will nevertheless steadfastly retain patience.
Adversities will always possess their sharpness and continue to wound us. When afflicted by sickness, therefore, we will groan, complain, and desire health. When pressed by poverty, we will feel the stings of perplexity and anxiety. Disgrace, contempt, and every other injury will likewise wound our hearts. When one of our relatives dies, we will render to nature the tears that are its due.
Yet we will always return to this conclusion: “Nevertheless, God has willed it; therefore, let us follow his will.” Indeed, this thought must enter amid the pangs of pain, the tears, and the groans, so that it may bring our hearts to bear cheerfully the very things by which they are so deeply grieved.
Since we have derived the principal reason for bearing the cross well from the consideration of God’s will, we must briefly define the difference between Christian and philosophical patience.
Very few philosophers have risen so high as to understand that men are exercised by God’s hand through afflictions and that we must therefore submit to his will. Yet even those who have reached this point offer no other reason than necessity. But what does this mean except that we must yield to God because every effort to resist him would be useless? For if we obey God only because we must, then whenever escape becomes possible, we will cease to obey him.
Scripture, however, requires us to consider something very different in the will of God: first, his righteousness and equity; and then, his concern for our salvation. Christian exhortations therefore proceed in this manner:
Whether poverty, banishment, imprisonment, disgrace, sickness, the loss of relatives, or any other adversity torments us, we must consider that none of these things happens except by the will and providence of the Lord. Moreover, he does nothing except according to a well-ordered justice.
For what? Do not the sins we commit daily deserve to be chastised a hundred thousand times more harshly and severely than they are? Is it not right that our flesh should be subdued and trained to the yoke, lest it wander into the intemperance toward which its nature inclines? Are not the righteousness and truth of God worthy of our suffering for their sake?
Since God’s equity is plainly displayed in all our afflictions, we cannot murmur or rebel without committing injustice. We do not hear here the cold refrain of the philosophers, that we must submit because it is necessary, but a living and powerful admonition that we must obey because resistance is unlawful. We must embrace patience because impatience is rebellion against the will of God.
And since nothing is truly desirable to us except what we recognize as good and salutary, the Father of mercies also comforts us in this matter by assuring us that, when he afflicts us with the cross, he is providing for our salvation.
If tribulations are salutary to us, why should we not receive them with a peaceful and grateful heart? Therefore, in bearing them patiently, we are not merely yielding to necessity but resting content in that which is for our good.
These thoughts, I say, will cause our hearts to be enlarged with spiritual joy in proportion as they are constrained by the natural bitterness of the cross. From this will also proceed thanksgiving, which cannot exist without joy.
Now, since praise of the Lord and thanksgiving can proceed only from a joyful and cheerful heart, and yet must not be hindered by anything in the world, it is evident how necessary it is that the bitterness of the cross should be tempered by spiritual joy.
Moreover, whatever kind of tribulation may afflict us, we must always keep this end in view: that we should become accustomed to despising the present life and thereby be stirred up to meditate upon the life to come.
For since the Lord knows very well how inclined we are toward a blind and even brutish love of this world, he employs a most suitable means to withdraw us from it and awaken us from our sluggishness, lest our hearts become too firmly attached to such a foolish love.
There is none of us who does not wish to appear as though, throughout the whole course of life, he aspires to heavenly immortality and strives to attain it. For we are ashamed to possess no excellence above brute beasts, whose condition would be no worse than ours if no hope of eternity remained for us after death.
But if the plans, deliberations, undertakings, and works of each person are examined, nothing but earth will be seen in them. This dullness arises because our understanding is dazzled by the false brilliance that riches, honors, and power display in their outward appearance, and thus cannot see beyond them.
Likewise, our heart, being occupied with greed, ambition, and other evil desires, is so firmly attached here below that it cannot look upward. Finally, the whole soul, enveloped and entangled in fleshly pleasures, seeks its happiness upon the earth.
Therefore, to remedy this evil, the Lord teaches his servants the vanity of the present life by continually exercising them under various miseries. So that they may not promise themselves peace and rest in this life, he permits it frequently to be disturbed and troubled by wars, tumults, robberies, or other injuries.
So that they may not aspire with excessive desire to perishable riches, or rest content in those they already possess, he reduces them to poverty—sometimes through the barrenness of the land, sometimes through fire, and sometimes by some other means—or else confines them to a moderate estate.
So that they may not take excessive pleasure in marriage, he either gives them harsh and headstrong wives who torment them, gives them unruly children to humble them, or afflicts them by taking away their wives and children.
If he treats them gently in all these things, nevertheless, lest they become proud through vainglory or exalt themselves in disordered confidence, he warns them through sicknesses and dangers, setting almost visibly before their eyes how frail and fleeting are all possessions subject to mortality.
We therefore profit greatly under the discipline of the cross when we learn that the present life, considered in itself, is full of unrest and trouble, altogether miserable, and in no respect truly happy; and that all its highly valued goods are transient and uncertain, frivolous, and mingled with innumerable miseries.
From this we conclude that we must seek or expect nothing here but conflict, and that when the crown is in view, we must lift our eyes toward heaven. For it is certain that our hearts will never earnestly rise to desire and meditate upon the life to come unless they are first moved to despise this earthly life.
There is no middle way between these two extremes: either the earth must become contemptible to us, or it will hold us bound by an intemperate love of itself. Therefore, if we possess any concern for immortality, we must strive diligently to disentangle ourselves from these evil bonds.
Now, since the present life always possesses many delights with which to attract us and has a great appearance of pleasantness, grace, and sweetness with which to entice us, we greatly need to be drawn away from it hour by hour, lest we be deceived and, as it were, bewitched by such flatteries.
For what would happen, I ask you, if we enjoyed perpetual happiness here, seeing that even when continually pierced by so many spurs, we still cannot be sufficiently awakened to recognize our misery? Not only do learned men acknowledge that human life is like a shadow or smoke, but this is also a common proverb among ordinary people.
Because men saw that this was a most useful truth to know, they celebrated it in many fine sayings. Nevertheless, there is nothing in the world that we consider more carelessly or remember less.
For we undertake all our affairs as though we had established our immortality upon the earth. If a dead person is being buried, or if we find ourselves in a cemetery among the graves, because we then have an image of death before our eyes, I confess that we philosophize very well about the frailty of this life—although even this does not always happen, for sometimes these things scarcely move us at all.
But when it does happen, it is a fleeting philosophy that vanishes as soon as we turn our backs, leaving no memory behind. For having forgotten not only death but also our mortality, as though we had never heard of either, we fall back into complacency and a foolish confidence in earthly immortality.
If someone meanwhile quotes to us the ancient proverb that man is a creature of a day, we readily acknowledge it, but with so little thought that the conviction remains firmly rooted in our hearts that we are to live here forever.
Who, then, will deny that it is absolutely necessary for us—not merely to be admonished, but to be convinced by every possible experience—how miserable man’s condition is with respect to this earthly life? For even when we have been convinced of it, we can scarcely cease admiring this life so greatly that we are almost stupefied by it, as though it contained all happiness within itself.
Since it is necessary for the Lord to instruct us in this way, our duty is to heed the admonitions by which he awakens us from our carelessness, so that, despising the world, we may aspire with all our hearts to the contemplation of the life to come.
Nevertheless, believers must accustom themselves to such contempt for the present life as produces neither hatred of it nor ingratitude toward God. For although this life is filled with innumerable miseries, it is nevertheless rightly numbered among the blessings of God, which are not to be despised.
Therefore, if we recognize no grace of God in it, we are guilty of great ingratitude. To believers especially, it ought to be a testimony of the Lord’s favor, since it is wholly appointed to advance their salvation.
For before fully revealing to us the inheritance of immortal glory, the Lord wills to declare himself our Father in lesser things—namely, in the benefits we receive daily from his hand. Since, therefore, this life serves to make known to us the goodness of God, shall we regard it as though it possessed no good at all?
We must therefore possess such a judgment and disposition as to regard it as a gift of divine kindness that ought not to be rejected.
For even if the testimonies of Scripture were lacking—which they certainly are not—nature itself would still exhort us to give thanks to God because he created us and placed us in this world, preserves us in it, and supplies everything necessary to sustain us here.
Moreover, there is an even greater reason for gratitude if we consider that he is preparing us here for the glory of his kingdom. For he has ordained that those who are to be crowned in heaven must first fight upon earth, so that they may not triumph until they have overcome the difficulties of warfare and obtained the victory.
Another consideration also carries great weight: here we begin to taste the sweetness of his kindness in his benefits, so that our hope and desire may be stirred up to seek its full revelation.
Once we have established that this earthly life is a gift of divine mercy, for which we are indebted to God and ought to be grateful, it will then be time to consider its miserable condition, so that we may free ourselves from that excessive attachment to which, as we have shown, we are all naturally inclined.
Whatever we take away from the disordered love of this life must be transferred to the heavenly life.
I readily confess that those who judged the highest good to be never to have been born, and the second best to be dying quickly, reasoned well according to their human understanding. For since they were pagans, deprived of the light of God and true religion, what could they see in this earthly life except misery and horror?
Nor was it without reason that the Scythians wept at the birth of their children, while rejoicing and holding a solemn feast whenever one of their relatives died. Yet this profited them nothing. For because they lacked the true doctrine of faith, they did not perceive how that which is neither blessed nor desirable in itself is turned to the salvation of believers. Therefore, the conclusion of their judgment was despair.
Let the servants of God, then, always keep this purpose in view when estimating this mortal life: seeing that it contains nothing but misery, they should become freer and better prepared to meditate upon the future and eternal life.
When they compare the two, they will be able not only to regard the present life lightly but even to despise it and esteem it as nothing in comparison with the life to come.
For if heaven is our homeland, what is the earth but a place of exile and banishment? If departing from this world is an entrance into life, what is this world but a grave, and what is remaining in it but being submerged in death? If being delivered from this body is freedom, what is the body but a prison? And if our supreme happiness consists in enjoying the presence of God, is it not misery to be deprived of it?
Now, until we depart from this world, we remain, as it were, far from God. Therefore, if earthly life is compared with heavenly life, there is no doubt that it may be despised and regarded almost as refuse.
It is true that we must never hate this life except insofar as it holds us under bondage to sin—although, strictly speaking, even this should not be imputed to life itself.
Whatever the case, we must become weary and dissatisfied with it in such a manner that, while desiring to see its end, we remain prepared to continue in it according to God’s good pleasure, so that our weariness may remain free from all murmuring and impatience.
For this life is like a station in which the Lord has placed us and in which we must remain until he calls us away. Saint Paul indeed laments his condition because he is detained, as though bound in the prison of his body, longer than he would desire, and he sighs with an ardent longing to be delivered.
—Romans 7:24; Philippians 1:23
Nevertheless, in order to submit to God’s will, he declares himself ready for either life or death, because he knows that he owes it to God to glorify his name, whether by living or by dying. It belongs to the Lord to determine what is expedient for his glory.
Therefore, if we must live and die to him, let us leave both our life and our death to his good pleasure. At the same time, however, let us always desire death and meditate upon it continually, despising this mortal life in comparison with the immortality to come and desiring to renounce it whenever the Lord pleases, because it holds us in bondage to sin.
Yet it is a monstrous thing that many who boast of being Christians, instead of desiring death, hold it in such horror that as soon as they hear it mentioned, they tremble as though it were the greatest calamity that could befall them.
It is no wonder if our natural sense is moved and terrified when we hear that the body must be separated from the soul. But it is altogether intolerable that there should not be enough light within a Christian heart to overcome and suppress this fear, such as it is, by a far greater consolation.
For if we consider that the tabernacle of our body—weak, defective, corruptible, frail, and tending toward decay—is taken down and, as it were, demolished so that it may afterward be restored in perfect, enduring, incorruptible, and heavenly glory, will not faith compel us ardently to desire what nature flees from and abhors?
If we consider that through death we are recalled from a miserable exile to dwell in our homeland—indeed, our heavenly homeland—shall we not derive singular consolation from this?
But someone will object that all things desire to continue in their existence. I acknowledge it. For this very reason, I maintain that we must aspire to the immortality to come, where we will possess a settled and enduring condition such as appears nowhere upon earth.
Is it right that brute beasts, and even insensible creatures down to wood and stones, possessing as it were some awareness of their vanity and corruption, should await the day of judgment to be delivered from it, while we—having first some natural understanding and then being illuminated by the Spirit of God—should fail, when our very existence is at stake, to lift our eyes above this earthly corruption?
But it is not my intention to argue at length here against so great a perversity. Indeed, I declared at the outset that I did not intend to treat every subject here in the form of an extended exhortation.
I would advise those of such a timid disposition to read Saint Cyprian’s book entitled On Mortality, were it not that they deserve to be sent instead to the philosophers, among whom they will find a contempt for death that ought to make them ashamed.
Nevertheless, we must hold firmly to this principle: no one has made proper progress in the school of Christ except the person who awaits with joy and gladness the day of death and the final resurrection. For Saint Paul describes all believers by this mark, and Scripture customarily directs us there whenever it wishes to present us with a reason for rejoicing:
“Rejoice and lift up your heads, for your redemption draws near.”
What sense is there, I ask, that what Jesus Christ considered a proper cause of rejoicing should produce in us nothing but sorrow and terror? If this is so, why do we boast of being his disciples?
Let us therefore return to a sounder judgment. Although the desire of our blind and senseless flesh resists, let us not hesitate to long for the coming of the Lord as a most blessed event—not merely with a simple desire, but with groaning and sighing after it.
For he will come to us as Redeemer, to deliver us from this abyss of every evil and misery and bring us into the inheritance of his glory.
While believers dwell upon the earth, they must be like sheep appointed for slaughter, so that they may be conformed to their Head, Jesus Christ. They would therefore be desperately miserable if they did not lift their minds upward, so as to rise above everything in this world and look beyond the things presently before them.
But once they have raised their thoughts above earthly things, it will be easy for them to comfort themselves amid their sufferings. They may see the ungodly flourishing in riches and honors, enjoying peace and possessing everything they desire, living in pleasure and splendor. They may even be treated inhumanely by them, endure their insults, be plundered, or suffer every kind of outrage. Nevertheless, they will always keep before their eyes that final day when they know the Lord will gather his believers into the rest of his kingdom, wipe every tear from their eyes, crown them with glory, clothe them with gladness, satisfy them with the infinite sweetness of his delights, exalt them to his own height, and, in sum, make them participants in his blessedness.
On the other hand, he will cast into extreme disgrace the ungodly who exalted themselves upon the earth. He will exchange their pleasures for horrible torments, their laughter and joy for weeping and gnashing of teeth, and their ease for dreadful anguish of conscience. In sum, he will plunge them into eternal fire and subject them to the believers whom they wickedly mistreated.
This, indeed, is our only consolation. If it is taken away, we must either lose heart or flatter and beguile ourselves with vain and frivolous comforts that will end in our ruin.
For the Prophet himself confesses that he faltered and that his feet had almost slipped while he dwelt too intently upon the present prosperity of the ungodly. He could not stand firm until he turned his thoughts to contemplate the sanctuary of God—that is, until he considered what the final end of the righteous and the ungodly would be.
To conclude in a word, I say that the cross of Christ finally triumphs within the hearts of believers over the devil, the flesh, sin, death, and the ungodly when they likewise turn their eyes to behold the power of his resurrection.
By this same lesson Scripture also instructs us in the proper use of earthly goods, a matter that must not be neglected when considering how to order our lives rightly. For if we are to live, we must also use the aids necessary for life. Indeed, we cannot entirely abstain even from things that seem to serve pleasure more than necessity.
We must therefore observe a proper measure, so that we may use these things with a pure and sound conscience, both for our necessity and for our enjoyment. God shows us this measure when he teaches that the present life is for his servants like a pilgrimage by which they journey toward the heavenly kingdom.
If we are merely passing through the earth, there is no doubt that we should use its goods in such a way that they advance rather than hinder our course. But because this matter is difficult, and because there is danger of falling into either extreme, let us endeavor to establish a sure rule by which we may safely govern ourselves.
There have been certain good and holy men who, seeing the intemperance of mankind daily breaking forth with unbridled license unless severely restrained, sought to correct so great an evil by permitting man to use bodily goods only insofar as they were necessary. They did this because they saw no other remedy.
Their counsel indeed proceeded from a good intention, but they carried it to excessive rigor. For they did something very dangerous: they bound consciences more strictly than they were bound by the Word of God.
On the other hand, there are many today who seek a pretext for excusing every kind of intemperance in the use of external things and for giving free rein to the flesh, which is already far too ready to exceed all bounds. They take for granted a principle that I do not concede: that this liberty should not be restrained by any moderation, but that every person’s conscience should be permitted to use it however it judges lawful.
I readily acknowledge that we neither should nor can bind consciences in this matter to fixed formulas and precepts. But since Scripture gives us general rules for lawful use, why should that use not be regulated according to them?
First, we must hold that the use of God’s gifts is not disordered when it is directed toward the purpose for which God created and appointed them, since he created them for our good and not for our harm. Therefore, no one will follow a more upright course than the person who carefully considers that purpose.
If we consider why God created food, we will find that he intended not only to provide for our necessity but also for our pleasure and refreshment. Likewise, in clothing, besides necessity, he considered what was fitting and becoming.
In herbs, trees, and fruits, besides the various benefits they provide, he intended to delight our sight by their beauty and to give us further pleasure through their fragrance. For if this were not true, the Prophet would not number among God’s benefits that wine gladdens the heart of man and oil makes his face shine.
Nor would Scripture repeatedly mention, in commendation of God’s kindness, that he has given all these good things to man. Indeed, the good qualities that things possess by nature show us how, for what purpose, and to what extent we ought to enjoy them.
Do we think that our Lord would have given flowers such beauty to present to our eyes if it were unlawful to receive any pleasure from seeing them? Do we think he would have given them so pleasant a fragrance if he had not intended man to delight in smelling them?
Moreover, has he not so distinguished colors that some possess greater beauty than others? Has he not given a particular splendor to gold, silver, ivory, and marble, making them more precious and noble than other metals and stones? Finally, has he not given us many things that we ought to value even though they are not necessary to us?
Let us therefore reject that inhuman philosophy which, by allowing man no use of God’s creatures beyond bare necessity, not only deprives us without reason of the lawful enjoyment of divine generosity, but cannot be practiced unless it strips man of every feeling and reduces him to a block of wood.
Yet, on the other hand, we must no less diligently guard against the desires of our flesh, which break forth without measure unless held under restraint. Moreover, as I have said, there are some who, under the pretext of liberty, permit the flesh everything.
It must therefore first be restrained by this rule: all the good things we possess were created for us so that we might acknowledge their Author and magnify his kindness with thanksgiving.
But where will thanksgiving be if, through gluttony, you load yourself with so much food and wine that you become senseless and useless for serving God and fulfilling the duties of your calling?
Where is the acknowledgment of God if the flesh, stirred up by excessive abundance to shameful desires, infects the understanding with its impurity until it blinds it and deprives it of the ability to distinguish good from evil?
How shall we thank God for the clothing he gives us if its extravagance makes us proud and causes us to despise others? If its display serves as an instrument of sexual immorality, how, I ask, shall we acknowledge our God if our eyes are fixed upon admiring the splendor of our garments?
The same may be said of every other kind of possession. It is therefore evident that this consideration already places some restraint upon the license to abuse God’s gifts.
But there is no surer or shorter way than to bring man to despise the present life and meditate upon heavenly immortality, for from this follow two rules.
The first is that those who use this world should be as little attached to it as though they did not use it; those who marry, as though they were not married; and those who buy, as though they possessed nothing, according to Saint Paul’s command.
The second is that we should learn to bear poverty as patiently and peacefully as we use abundance moderately.
When Saint Paul commands us to use this world as though we did not use it, he not only cuts off all intemperance in eating and drinking, every form of luxury, excessive ambition, pride, and extravagant concern over buildings, clothing, and manner of life; he also corrects every care and affection that distracts or hinders us from contemplating the heavenly life and adorning our souls with their true ornaments.
It was truly said long ago by Cato that where there is great concern for outward display, there is great neglect of virtue. Likewise, an ancient proverb says that those who devote much attention to pampering and adorning their bodies care very little for their souls.
Therefore, although the liberty of believers in external things should not be confined to fixed formulas, it is nevertheless subject to this law: they should indulge themselves as little as possible. On the contrary, they should be vigilant in cutting off every superfluity and every vain display of abundance, far from abandoning themselves to intemperance. They should diligently guard against turning into hindrances those things that ought to serve as aids.
The other rule is that those who live in poverty should learn patiently to do without the things they lack, lest they be tormented by excessive anxiety. Those who can maintain this moderation have made no small progress in the Lord’s school. On the other hand, the person who has made no progress in this respect will scarcely possess anything by which he may prove himself a disciple of Christ.
Besides the many other vices that accompany the desire for earthly things, it almost always happens that the person who bears poverty impatiently displays the opposite vice when surrounded by abundance.
By this I mean that the person who is ashamed of a poor garment will glory in an expensive one. The person who, dissatisfied with a meager meal, torments himself with the desire for something better will be unable to remain temperate when he finds himself at a wellfurnished table. The person who cannot endure a lowly and private condition without becoming troubled and discontented will be unable to guard himself against pride and arrogance if he attains some position of honor.
Therefore, all who desire to serve God without hypocrisy must endeavor, following the Apostle’s example, to know how to bear both abundance and need—that is, to remain moderate amid abundance and patiently content amid poverty.
Scripture gives us yet a third rule for regulating the use of earthly things, which we briefly touched upon when treating the commandments of love. It teaches that although all things are given to us by God’s kindness and appointed for our benefit, they are nevertheless entrusted to us as a deposit for which we must one day give an account.
We must therefore administer them in such a way that we always remember this sentence: we must give an account of everything our Lord has committed to our care.
Moreover, we must consider who it is that calls us to account: God himself. Just as he has strongly commended abstinence, sobriety, temperance, and modesty, so he abhors every form of intemperance, pride, ostentation, and vanity. He approves no stewardship except that which is regulated by love, and by his own mouth he has condemned every pleasure that turns the human heart away from chastity and purity or renders the understanding dull.
We must also observe diligently that God commands each of us to regard his calling in all the actions of his life. For he knows how the human mind burns with restlessness, how lightly it is carried here and there, and how ambition and desire urge it to embrace many different things at once.
Therefore, lest we throw everything into confusion through our folly and rashness, he has distinguished the various conditions and ways of life and appointed to each person what he ought to do. And lest anyone should carelessly overstep his limits, he has called these ways of life vocations.
Each person, therefore, should regard his own condition as a station assigned to him by God, so that he does not thoughtlessly flit and wander here and there throughout the whole course of his life.
This distinction is so necessary that all our works are judged before God according to it—and often quite differently from the judgment of human or philosophical reason. Not only ordinary people but even the philosophers consider delivering one’s country from tyranny the noblest and most excellent deed imaginable. Yet the private individual who kills a tyrant is plainly condemned by the voice of God.
I do not intend, however, to linger over all the examples that might be given. It is enough for us to recognize that God’s calling is the principle and foundation by which we must govern ourselves rightly in everything, and that whoever does not direct himself according to it will never keep to the right path in faithfully discharging his duty.
He may sometimes perform an act that appears outwardly praiseworthy, but whatever esteem it may receive among men, it will not be accepted before the throne of God.
Moreover, unless we hold our calling as a perpetual rule, there will be no settled order or consistency among the various parts of our lives. Therefore, whoever has directed his life toward this end has ordered it exceedingly well.
From this we receive a singular consolation: there is no work so lowly or menial that it will not shine before God and be exceedingly precious in his sight, provided that in doing it we serve our calling.
THE END.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Note on this Edition
Argument of the Present Book
A Dedication to Francis I
CHAPTER ONE: The Knowledge of God
CHAPTER TWO: The Knowledge of Man and Free Will
CHAPTER THREE: The Revelation of God's Law
CHAPTER FOUR: Of Faith, In Which the Apostles' Creed Is Explained
CHAPTER FIVE: Repentance
CHAPTER SIX: Of Justification by Faith and by the Merits of Works CHAPTER SEVEN: Of the Similarities and Differences between the Old and New Covenants
CHAPTER EIGHT: Of the Predestination and Providence of God
CHAPTER NINE: Of Prayer, The Prayer of Our Lord Is Explained
CHAPTER TEN: Of the Sacraments
CHAPTER ELEVEN: The Significance of Baptism
CHAPTER TWELVE: The Significance of the Lord's Supper
CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Regarding the Five Other Ceremonies Falsely Called Sacraments: Confirmation, Penance, Extreme Unction, Ecclesiastical Orders, and Marriage
CHAPTER FOURTEEN: On Christian Liberty
CHAPTER FIFTEEN: The Authority of the Church
CHAPTER SIXTEEN: Of Civil Government
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: Of the Christian Life