Our Lord Jesus Christ said, "Suffer the little children to come to Me: for of such is the kingdom of heaven."Our Lord Jesus Christ said, "Suffer the little children to come to Me: for of such is the kingdom of heaven."
And He said again, when He placed a little child in the midst of His Apostles, "Unless you become as a little child, you shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven."
The meaning of these words of our Saviour is, that if we wish to have the kingdom of God within us, we must become, in our supernatural dispositions, just like a little child is in its natural disposition. And in short, there is a spiritual childhood, and this state is the first step we must take to enter upon the spiritual life. It is impossible to form any idea of this state of holy childhood unless we know it by experience; it is a gift of God we cannot acquire it by any labour or reflections of our own. God Himself must lead us into it; and when we have the happiness of being admitted therein, we experience in ourselves, in our mind as well as our heart, a most wonderful change.
To picture to ourselves this state as much as is possible, let us compare it with the state of natural childhood.
A child does not reason, and does not reflect; he has neither foresight, nor prudence, nor malice. It is just the same with real spiritual childhood. The first thing God does when He places us in this state is to suspend the operations of the mind. He suspends that crowd of reasonings and reflections which swarm incessantly around it, and replaces them by simple and direct operations of which the soul is scarcely conscious; in such a manner that she believes she is not thinking when she is always thinking, and thinking in a way far higher, and nearer to God's own way, Who has only one thought, and that thought infinitely simple.
The soul, thus reasoning no longer, reflecting no longer, occupies herself no more with the past or the future, but only with the present; she forms no more projects of any kind, but she allows herself to be directed in all things, from one moment to another, within by the Spirit of God, and without by Divine Providence. There is no longer any malice in her actions or her words, because she does nothing and says nothing designedly or with premeditations. Despoiled of her own prudence, she is clothed with the prudence of God, Who makes her always speak and act as she ought to do, as long as she is faithful in never consulting her own spirit. The state of utter dependence upon Him, in which God keeps her in this respect, is so great, that it does not leave the soul a single instant in which she is able to act of her own accord.
A child has no dissimulation, no concealment. As soon as he is capable of deceit he is no longer a child. In like manner, nothing can equal the openness and candour of the spiritual child. He does not compose his exterior; his recollection has nothing constrained about it; his actions, his conversation, his manners, everything in him is simple and natural; when he says anything, he really thinks it; when he offers anything, he wishes to give it; when he promises anything, he will keep his promise. He does not seek to appear different to what he really is, nor to hide his faults; he says what is good and what is evil of himself with the same simplicity, and he has no reserve whatever with those to whom he ought to disclose the state of his soul.
A child shows his love with artless innocence: everything in him expresses the feelings of his heart, and he is all the more touching and persuasive because there is nothing studied about him. It is the same with the spiritual child, when he wishes to show his love for God and his charity for his neighbour. He goes to God simply, without preparation; he says to God without set formulas or choice of words all that his loving heart suggests to him; he knows no other method of prayer than to keep himself in the presence of God, to look at God, to listen to Him, to possess Him, to tell Him all the feelings with which grace inspires him, sometimes in words, but more often without speaking at all. He loves his neighbour sincerely and cordially, bears him no kind of malice or envy, does not ridicule him, does not criticise him, does not despise him, and never deceives him; he does not flatter his neighbour, either; he has lost the art of using those vain compliments which do not come from the heart he only makes use of the courtesy and kindness which the Gospel authorises, and raises it still higher by his charity and cordiality. He loves none the less when he is obliged to reprove, he condemns as kindly and justly as he praises and approves; he is always doing good to others without affectation, without ostentation, in the sight of God, and without expecting any gratitude or return.
A child is docile and obedient he feels that he is not made to do his own will. And the first thing also which the spiritual child renounces is his own will, which he submits entirely to the will of God, and to all that holds the place of God to Him. He does not wish to govern himself in anything, but in all that relates to the guidance of his soul he abandons himself without reserve to the Spirit of God, and to the minister of God, to whom he has given his confidence; and as for his exterior conduct, he willingly yields obedience to all who have authority over him. In indifferent things he prefers to accommodate his will to the will of others, rather than to bring others to his way of thinking. Finally, he wishes for nothing because it is his own will, but only because it is the will of God; therefore, when he once wishes a thing, he does not change.
A child does not know himself, he does not reflect upon himself; he is quite incapable of studying himself or observing himself. He leaves himself as he is, and walks straight on, always looking before him. The spiritual child also is no longer curious about looking into his soul and seeing what is passing there. He takes what God gives him, and is quite content to be from one moment to another just what God wishes him to be. He does not attempt to judge of the goodness or perfection of his prayers, his communions, or any of his other pious exercises, by the passing feelings which he may experience in them, but he leaves the judgment of all these things to God; and, provided only that the interior disposition of his soul does not change, he rises above all the vicissitudes of the spiritual life. He knows that the spiritual life has its winters, its hurricanes, its tempests, and its clouds that is to say, its times of dryness and disgust, its interior weariness and its temptations. He passes courageously through all these trials, and waits in peace for the return of fine weather. He is not uneasy about his progress; he is not always turning round to see how far he has advanced on the road; but he goes on his way quietly, without even thinking if he is walking, and he advances far more because he is not looking to see how he advances. In this way, he is not troubled, he is not discouraged. If he falls, he humbles himself for it, but he gets up again directly, and runs with fresh ardour.
A child is weak, and feels his weakness; this is what makes him so dependent, so distrustful of himself, and so full of trust in those whom he knows take an interest in him. The spiritual child feels, in like manner, that he is weakness itself, that he cannot support himself or make a single step without stumbling. Therefore he never leans upon himself, he never relies upon his own strength, but he puts all his trust in God; he keeps himself always near to God, he stretches out his hand to God, that God may hold him and sustain him in all the difficult paths he may have to tread. He is infinitely far from ever attributing to himself any good he may do or any victory he may gain, but he gives the glory of all to God. He does not prefer himself to others, but is firmly convinced that if God were to leave him to himself he would fall into the greatest crimes, and that if others had the same graces that he has they would make a much better use of them than he does. For the same reason, as he feels himself to be so weak, he is not astonished at his falls; his self-love is not annoyed by them, but feeling his powerlessness to rise of himself, he calls upon God and implores His assistance. This feeling of his weakness is also the principle of his courage, because God is his strength; and, assured of the protection of God, he sees nothing that can frighten him or shake him. He undertakes nothing of himself, he exposes himself to nothing by his own will; but the moment God speaks he undertakes all, he exposes himself to all, and he is sure of succeeding, in spite of all the efforts of men and of hell.
Innocence, peace, and pure joy is the heritage of little children; they are happy without thinking they are happy; they have no care, no anxiety. Their parents, their nurses, their governesses, think of everything for them. They are in a continual state of enjoyment. And this is only a weak and imperfect image of the state of the spiritual child of God. His happiness, like the happiness of the other child, is neither perceived nor reflected upon; but it is real he enjoys it. God fills his soul with it, God thinks of everything for him, God provides for everything. This happiness is maintained in the midst of the greatest storms of the spiritual life, and it cannot be affected by the events and changes of human life. It is not that the state of spiritual childhood renders us insensible, but it raises us, by our perfect resignation to the will of God, above all feeling to the enjoyment of an unshaken peace. No one can judge of this except by experience. But the experience of it is such that the whole universe could never succeed in persuading a soul that is so blessed that she is deceived and deluded.
Prayer
O Lord of my Soul! can I think of the happiness which Your children enjoy even in this life without imploring of You with all my heart to call me also into the number of those children in whom You find delight of those children who are Your true worshippers, who depend entirely upon You, and who accomplish Your adorable Will in all things?
Suffer me, O my Saviour! to come to You in like manner! Take me in Your sacred Arms, lay Your Hands upon me and bless me; take away from me for ever my own spirit and replace it by the instinct of Your Divine grace; take from me my own will, and leave me only the desire of doing Your Will. Give me that beautiful, that lovable, that sublime simplicity which is the first and the greatest of Your gifts. Adam was created in this simplicity. He lost it for himself and for me by his sin. I have deserved myself, by my innumerable faults, to be deprived of it for ever. But, my Lord and my God, O Supreme Good, and my Rest! You can give it to me again; You desire to do so, and if I put no obstacle in Your way, I hope that You will restore it to me. Then You shall receive from me that tribute of homage which is only perfect from the mouth of children! Amen.
- taken from Manual for Interior Souls, by Father Jean Nicolas Grou