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The Practice of the Presence of God the Best Rule of a Holy Life — Story, Setting & Ideas

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In Category - Adventure Picaresque Fiction

Authors: Lawrence, of the Resurrection, Brother, 1611-1691 Digital Source: Project Gutenberg Gutenberg Release Year: 2004 First Publication Year: Not confirmed

Key Word: Christian life -- Catholic authors; Spiritual life -- Catholic Church Target Reader: Readers of public-domain and historical texts

Book Edition: Project Gutenberg digital edition Book Language: en

Edition facts

Words 14,177

Reading time 62 min

Text sections 2

The Practice of the Presence of God the Best Rule of a Holy Life — Story, Setting & Ideas can be approached with a clearer sense of reading commitment from its source measurements: 14,177 words, 1 hr 2 min estimated reading time, and 2 detected text sections.

The text analysis averages about 25.8 words per sentence, while the detected sections provide another way to judge how the source is divided.

Project Gutenberg metadata also associates the work with “Christian life -- Catholic authors,” connecting these edition facts with the source record’s subject description.

Source: Project Gutenberg record #13871

This editorial note examines the structure of Brother Lawrence's spiritual classic, focusing on its two-part form of conversations and letters, the recurring image of a leafless tree as a catalyst for conversion, and the movement between personal testimony and direct exhortation.

Editorial Edition Score 4.5/5

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Title & short description10 pts
Source metadata20 pts
Text length15 pts
Chapters / structure15 pts
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File: pg13871

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Such was my beginning; and yet I must tell you that for the first ten years I suffered much: the apprehension that I was not devoted to GOD as I wished to be, my past sins always present to my mind, and the great unmerited favors which GOD did me, were the matter and source of my sufferings. During this time I fell often, and rose again presently. It seemed to me that all creatures, reason, and GOD Himself were against me; and _faith_ alone for me. I was troubled sometimes with thoughts that to believe I had received such favors was an effect of my presumption, which pretended to be _at once_ where others arrive with difficulty; at other times that it was a wilful delusion, and that there was no salvation for me.

When I thought of nothing but to end my days in these troubles (which did not at all diminish the trust I had in GOD, and which served only to increase my faith), I found myself changed all at once; and my soul, which, till that time, was in trouble, felt a profound inward peace, as if she were in her centre and place of rest.

Ever since that time I walk before GOD simply, in faith, with humility and with love; and I apply myself diligently to do nothing and think nothing which may displease Him. I hope that when I have done what I can, He will do with me what He pleases.

As for what passes in me at present, I cannot express it. I have no pain or difficulty about my state, because I have no will but that of GOD, which I endeavor to accomplish in all things, and to which I am so resigned that I would not take up a straw from the ground against His order, or from any other motive than purely that of love to Him.

I have quitted all forms of devotion and set prayers but those to which my state obliges me. And I make it my business only to persevere in His holy presence, wherein I keep myself by a simple attention, and a general fond regard to GOD, which I may call an _actual presence of_ GOD; or, to speak better, an habitual, silent and secret conversation of the soul with GOD, which often causes me joys and raptures inwardly, and sometimes also outwardly, so great, that I am forced to use means to moderate them and prevent their appearance to others.

In short, I am assured beyond all doubt that my soul has been with GOD above these thirty years. I pass over many things that I may not be tedious to you, yet I think it proper to inform you after what manner I consider myself before GOD, whom I behold as my King.

I consider myself as the most wretched of men, full of sores and corruption, and who has committed all sorts of crimes against his King; touched with a sensible regret, I confess to him all my wickedness, I ask His forgiveness, I abandon myself in His hands that He may do what he pleases with me. The King, full of mercy and goodness, very far from chastising me, embraces me with love, makes me eat at His table, serves me with His own hands, gives me the key of His treasures; He converses and delights Himself with me incessantly, in a thousand and a thousand ways, and treats me in all respects as His favorite. It is thus I consider myself from time to time in His holy presence.

My most useful method is this simple attention, and such a general passionate regard to GOD; to whom I find myself often attached with greater sweetness and delight than that of an infant at the mother's breast; so that, if I dare use the expression, I should choose to call this state the bosom, of GOD, for the inexpressible sweetness which I taste and experience there.

If sometimes my thoughts wander from it by necessity or infirmity, I am presently recalled by inward motions so charming and delicious that I am ashamed to mention them. I desire your reverence to reflect rather upon my great wretchedness, of which you are fully informed, than upon the great favors which GOD does me, all unworthy and ungrateful as I am.

As for my set hours of prayer, they are only a continuation of the same exercise. Sometimes I consider myself there as a stone before a carver, whereof he is to make a statue; presenting myself thus before GOD, I desire Him to form His perfect image in my soul, and make me entirely like Himself.

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The text is built from two distinct sections: four conversations recorded by a clerical associate and sixteen letters written by Brother Lawrence himself. This dual structure creates a movement between observed testimony and first-person instruction. The conversations frame Lawrence as a subject of spiritual curiosity, while the letters shift to direct, urgent counsel. The reader moves from hearing about Lawrence to hearing from him, a shift that mirrors the book’s central concern with turning outward practice into inward presence.

A Tree in Winter: The Image That Opens the Work

The first conversation opens with a precise image: Lawrence, at eighteen, sees a tree stripped of leaves in winter and reflects that leaves, flowers, and fruit will return. This single observation, described as giving him “a high view of the Providence and Power of GOD,” is the only conversion narrative in the book. The tree recurs nowhere else, but its starkness sets the tone. Lawrence does not recount visions or ecstasies; he anchors his entire spiritual practice in a natural, almost mundane observation. The image of barrenness followed by renewal becomes a quiet structural motif, echoed later in metaphors of torrents, winds, and storms that give way to calm.

Conversations as Framed Testimony

The four conversations are not dialogues but reported monologues. The interlocutor, likely M. Beaufort, appears only in the opening line of each conversation, then vanishes. Lawrence speaks in long, unbroken paragraphs, describing his method of “practicing the presence of God” through daily tasks. The framing is minimal: dates are given (the first conversation on August 3, 1666), but no setting, interruptions, or reactions are recorded. This structure presents Lawrence’s words as authoritative testimony, unmediated by debate. The reader is positioned as a listener, not a participant, receiving instruction that has already been validated by the editor’s preface.

Letters as Direct Exhortation

The sixteen letters abandon the conversational frame entirely. They open with salutations to named or unnamed correspondents and close with formulaic valedictions. The tone shifts from descriptive to imperative: “Set heartily about this work,” “let us enter into ourselves,” “make immediately a holy and firm resolution.” Lawrence uses metaphors of vessels, torrents, and storms to urge action. The letters are shorter than the conversations, more urgent, and more personal. They assume the reader is already committed but needs continual rekindling. This structural shift from testimony to exhortation gives the book a cumulative force: the reader first learns what Lawrence did, then is told to do likewise.

Movement Between Observation and Urgency

The book’s rhythm alternates between calm description and pressing appeal. In the conversations, Lawrence speaks of “continual conversation with God” as a steady, almost effortless practice. In the letters, he warns that “not to advance in the spiritual life is to go back” and that “death follows us close.” This oscillation creates a tension between the peace Lawrence claims to possess and the urgency with which he urges others to seek it. The reader is never allowed to settle into passive admiration; each section ends with a call to action. The structure itself enacts the book’s central argument: that the presence of God is both a restful state and a constant effort.

Because the excerpts include only a portion of the letters and conversations, the full range of Lawrence’s advice—particularly on specific practices like “little acts of adoration” or handling distractions—is not visible here. Readers should note that the book’s brevity (under 15,000 words) rewards rereading: the same metaphors recur with slight variations, and the shift from conversation to letter may feel abrupt. Pay attention to how Lawrence uses physical objects (a tree, a broken dish) to ground spiritual claims. The structure is simple, but its effect depends on the reader’s willingness to move from observation to application.

What stays with me from Brother Lawrence is that leafless tree—how a pause, not a flourish, can turn a life. I felt the same quiet in Beethoven, the Man and the Artist, as Revealed in His Own Words — Background and Themes, where his fragments read less like confessions and more like someone simply keeping his own company. That winter honesty is rare, and it lingers.