On Spiritual Warmth in the Heart, and on the Cooling and Dryness of the Heart

Spiritual warmth in the heart is the fruit of feeling toward God and all that is divine. It is born simultaneously with conversion to God in repentance. During the penitential labors of purifying the heart it grows stronger and stronger, gradually passing from an intermittent or occasional visitation of the heart into a continuous state, until it finally becomes the very condition of the heart.

When St. John Climacus counseled in one place, “Always strive to remain in a feeling toward God and things divine,” he had in mind precisely this warmth. Every object that delights the heart also warms it; thus there are many kinds of heartfelt warmth. Spiritual warmth is generated by the action of spiritual things upon the heart, which occurs in the order of the spiritual life. Its distinguishing mark is detachment from everything created and the binding of attention to God and all that is divine. By this mark it stands apart from the warmths of soul and body as heaven stands from earth.

The feeling of spiritual warmth is concentrated and appears simple and singular; yet in its essence it is a fusion into one of many spiritual movements, just as a ray of sunlight is a fusion of seven rainbow rays. Within it there are reverence, contrition, tenderness, prostration, worship, holy zeal, and love of God. Just as all such spiritual feelings are not established in the heart at once, so spiritual warmth does not at once become the possession of our heart.

So long as spiritual warmth in the heart has not become its constant state, it comes and goes. It comes either of its own accord, like a heavenly guest, or as the fruit of spiritual exercises—reading, meditation, prayer, acts of self-denial and good works. It departs when attention turns away from spiritual things and the heart in turn tastes and takes pleasure in something non-spiritual. This quenches spiritual warmth as water quenches fire.

Do you wish to preserve this spiritual warmth in your heart? Keep your attention turned inward and stand before God in your heart with a prayerful spirit; do not allow distracting thoughts to wander, do not let the heart entertain sympathies toward anything of a soul-centered or fleshly nature, cut off at once the offspring of anxious preoccupation, keep your zeal for pleasing God and saving your soul alive and active, and in outward affairs maintain a wise order—directing them all toward your chief goal, and doing one thing at a time without burdening your mind with care for many things. But let me add: when you come to know this warmth, you cannot help but strive to preserve it; striving, you will employ the means suited to that end; employing them, you will see how it is most convenient for you to maintain your warmth. If you set about this wisely, spiritual warmth will become for you a faithful teacher in how to govern your inner life and how to conduct yourself in outward affairs and your entire way of life, so as to guard that very warmth.

As sweet as is the presence of spiritual warmth in the heart, so bitter, oppressive, and fearful is it when the warmth departs. It departs, as noted, when attention and the heart turn away from things spiritual and are drawn toward things non-spiritual. By this is meant not something sinful—for one who has tasted spiritual warmth is no longer inclined to sin—but the entire soul-and-body domain, vain, earthly, and created. As soon as attention inclines toward this domain, spiritual warmth immediately diminishes; and when the heart too cleaves to it, warmth departs altogether, leaving a coldness toward all things divine and toward God himself, accompanied by indifference toward all the spiritual labors and occupations that had been maintained for the purpose of guarding that warmth. One who comes to his senses at once and hastens to restore himself to his habitual warmth-producing order will find that warmth returns, whether sooner or not so soon. But one who pays no attention to this, and by reason of distraction, infatuation, and self-confidence allows himself consciously to linger in this cooling atmosphere—and all the more if he actually slips into satisfying the non-spiritual appetites that revive in him at such times—in him even the very zeal for the spiritual life will be shaken, or may die out altogether. This last is the antechamber to a fall back into the former habitual sins, which will not be slow to overtake the heedless. Yet one who comes to his senses even from this point easily returns to his spiritual order.

Cooling always comes about in this manner; and it occurs through our own fault, namely through a relaxing of attention and vigilance over oneself: at times through the temptations of the worldly environment surrounding the laborer, when the allurements of the world, acting in an intoxicating way, steal a person away from himself; at times through the snares of the enemy, who schemes to lure a person out of himself and into the outward world—which he sometimes succeeds in doing by merely mixing his own images into the natural movements of the fantasy, especially those of a captivating kind, and sometimes by acting in some fashion on the body as well. But whatever the cause, the effect of cooling begins with the going-out of attention from within, and is established in its further course by the heart’s attachment to something—at first empty and vain, then passionate and sinful. And in all this the person himself is always to blame. For neither the world nor the devil compels freedom; they only entice it.

There is also a cooling that comes from the withdrawal of grace. Spiritual warmth in its true form is the fruit of grace’s presence in the heart. When grace visits, the heart is warm; when it departs—it is cold. Grace departs when a person himself goes outward toward improper things, and in that case the departure is both called and is punitive. But at other times grace withdraws of its own accord, with a view to furthering the spiritual progress of God’s servants. In that case the departure is both called and is instructive. But the consequence in this case is the same—cooling, a feeling of emptiness in the heart, for the guest and visitor has departed. The difference between these two coolings is this: the culpable cooling weakens the very zeal for the spiritual life; cooling resulting from the instructive withdrawal of grace most commonly inflames it, which is indeed one of the purposes of the instructive withdrawal of grace.

God’s grace withdraws instructively for the following reasons: to stir up zeal, which can sometimes slacken from a prolonged dwelling in peace; to prompt a person to look more carefully within and to put away sympathies and occupations that do not directly belong to a God-pleasing life and do not have God as their end; to restore with greater force the awareness and feeling that all the good that occurs in us is the fruit of God’s grace; so that in the future we may value God’s gifts more highly, take more zealous care to preserve them, and be more deeply humble; so that we may surrender ourselves more sincerely into the hands of God’s providence, with more perfect self-denial and self-abasement; so that we may not become attached even to spiritual consolations and thereby divide our heart in two, when God desires that it belong wholly to him alone; and so that even amid the working of God’s grace we may not let our hands fall idle, but may work without ceasing on the path of God, exerting all the powers given us by God for precisely this purpose.

Thus, even when cooling comes from the instructive withdrawal of God’s grace, you yourself are the cause, for though God’s grace withdraws of its own accord, it does so with an eye upon you. Therefore, when you feel in yourself a cooling toward spiritual things and occupations and toward all things divine, enter into yourself and consider for what reason it has come about; and if the fault is yours, hasten to remove and efface it, striving not for the return of spiritual consolations, but rather for the elimination within yourself of whatever proves unfitting and displeasing to God. If you see nothing of that kind, submit to the will of God, saying within yourself: “Thus God has decreed; be Thy will upon me, Lord, weak and worthless as I am.” Then endure and wait, never allowing yourself to depart in the least from the accustomed order of your spiritual life and spiritual labors and exercises; overcome the tastelessness that has fallen upon you by forcibly compelling yourself to continue them, without heeding the thoughts that would draw you away from such effort with the suggestion that it is fruitless; willingly drink this cup of bitterness, saying to the Lord: ”Look upon my affliction and my toil” (Ps. 24:18), and do not withhold Thy mercy from me—and encourage yourself to this with faith that this cup has been held out to you by God’s love, which desires a greater spiritual perfection for you.

Follow the Lord willingly not only to Tabor but also to Golgotha—that is, not only when you feel within yourself the divine light and spiritual consolations and joys, but also when there come upon you darkness, sorrows, anguish, and bitterness, which the soul must sometimes taste through demonic temptations, both inward and outward. Even if this cooling be accompanied by such darkness and confusion that you do not know what to do or where to turn, do not be afraid even then; but stand firm in your station, cling to this cross with willing submission, and drive far from yourself every earthly consolation that the world or the flesh may think to offer, at the enemy’s prompting. Strive also to conceal this weakness of yours from every person and to speak of it to no one except your spiritual father—not complaining, however, of the burden sent to you, but rather seeking instruction as to how in the future to avoid it, and how to bear this present one with good cheer, for as long as it pleases God to keep you in it.

Continue your prayers, your communions, and your other spiritual exercises as usual, performing them not in order to receive spiritual sweetness, not in order to be taken down from the present cross, but in order that strength may be granted you to remain upon it with good cheer, for the glory of Christ the Lord who was crucified for us, and always to live and act as is well-pleasing to him. If at times in this state you cannot pray or dwell in good thoughts as you were accustomed to do, by reason of the great darkness and confusion of mind, do all of this as best you can—only without laziness or self-indulgence; and that which you cannot accomplish in full measure by outward deed will be accepted as accomplished in full measure by your desire, your seeking, and your effort. Abide in this desire, this seeking, and this effort, and you will see its marvelous fruits—a fervor and strength that will fill your soul to overflowing.

Let me offer you an example of how it is fitting for you to cry out to God in a time of such darkness of mind. Cry out: ”Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why do you disquiet me? Hope in God, for I shall yet praise Him — (He is) the salvation of my countenance and my God” (Ps. 42:5). ”Why, O Lord, have You withdrawn far from me and dost Thou overlook me in my afflictions” (Ps. 9:22)? ”Forsake me not, O Lord my God, be not far from me” (Ps. 37:22). Call to mind the prayer with which, by divine inspiration, Sarah, the beloved wife of Tobias, prayed in the time of her affliction, and use it, crying out with a living voice: “Truly every man knoweth who serveth Thee, O Lord, that his life, if it be tried, shall be crowned; and if it be in tribulation, it shall be delivered; and if it be in correction, it shall be allowed of Thy mercy. Thou dost not rejoice in our ruin, but after the storm Thou grantest a calm, and after weeping and tears Thou pourest in rejoicing. Be Thy name, O God of Israel, blessed for ever!”

Call to mind also Christ the Lord, who in the Garden of Gethsemane and on the cross, because of his immeasurable sufferings, felt himself forsaken by his Heavenly Father; and, finding yourself in your present situation as one on the cross, cry out from your heart in his words: ”Thy will be done, O Lord; not as I will, but as Thou wilt” (Luke 11:2; Matt. 26:39)! Acting thus, you will ensure that your endurance and your prayer are borne upward before the face of God like the flame of the sacrifice of your heart. And you will thereby bear witness that you are filled with a living readiness of will—with a love as strong as death—to follow Christ the Lord with a cross upon your shoulders, by whatever path he may call you to himself. This is true life in God! To desire and seek God for God’s own sake, and to have him and taste him in such a manner and measure as he himself wills. If people were to enter upon the path of life in God with such a disposition, and were to measure their progress in that journey by its firmness rather than by the surges of spiritual sweetness and consolation, they would not be so easily deceived, either by themselves or by the enemy’s wiles, nor would they suffer fruitless torment—sometimes even to the point of grumbling—when they encounter dryness and cooling; but on the contrary, they would receive them with gratitude and endure them in the confidence that, since God so wills it, this has come to pass for their good, and, paying no particular heed to them, they would continue with greater zeal and more self-denying compulsion along the path of God-pleasing life, observing all its established ordinances.

It sometimes happens that while the soul languishes in such cooling and such distaste for all things spiritual, the enemy attacks with greater force, stirring up evil thoughts, shameful movements, and seductive dreams. His aim is that, having fallen into numbness from the sense of God’s abandonment, a person will let his hands fall and yield to something passionate; for after this the enemy finds it easy to drag him back into the whirlpool of sinful life. Knowing this, stand firm. Let sinful waves surge around your heart; but so long as you have an unwillingness to sin and a desire to remain faithful to God, your little vessel is intact. God’s grace has withheld its consolations from you, but it is near at hand, and watches, and will not leave you without help so long as your will stands on the side of good. Stand firm, then, encouraging yourself with the assurance that this storm will soon pass, and with it your dryness will cease as well. Believe that this has been permitted to happen to you for your own good, for having endured this season of temptation you will emerge from it with a deeper knowledge of your own weakness, with greater humility, and with greater confidence in the help of God, ever-ready to come to your aid. I have already had occasion to speak to you of such stormy attacks of the enemy. Review what was said there.