Twelfth Letter: Faith—The Soul’s Rest Amid Suffering

If we were truly accustomed to living in the presence of God, every bodily suffering would be greatly eased by it. God often allows us to suffer a little—not to punish us, but to purify our souls and to draw us nearer to Him.

Take courage, and offer your pain continually to Him. Pray for the strength to bear it well. Above all, practice the habit of keeping company with God; forget Him as little as possible. Adore Him even in your weakness. Offer yourself to Him often, and in the very height of your suffering, ask Him humbly—as a child speaks to a loving father—to make you more like Christ and to bring your will into harmony with His. I will assist you with my poor prayers.

God has many ways of drawing His children to Himself. Sometimes He hides His presence, but faith remains when feelings vanish. Faith alone must be our anchor and our confidence—resting entirely in God, especially when He seems far away.

As for me, I do not know what God intends for the remainder of my life. But I am always at peace. Everyone around me suffers, and yet I, who deserve the harshest discipline, experience joy so constant and so full that I can barely contain it.

I would gladly ask God to give me a share of your suffering, but I know my weakness too well. If He were to leave me to myself even for a moment, I would be utterly miserable. And yet, how could He ever leave me, when faith assures me as clearly as sight that He never forsakes us—unless we first forsake Him?

Let us, then, fear only this: to leave Him. Let us remain always with Him. Let us live and die in His holy presence. Pray for me, as I do for you.

Reflection

Here, at the twilight of his earthly journey, Brother Lawrence’s words shine like a steady flame in the dark. The man who once struggled to keep his mind fixed on God now dwells in His presence so naturally that even pain cannot disturb his peace.

Notice the divine paradox: suffering does not remove joy—it refines it. What once felt like punishment has become purification. He sees every affliction as God’s gentle invitation to stay close, to trust, to be transformed. This is not spiritual denial but spiritual clarity—the awareness that God is more concerned with our likeness to Him than with our comfort.
Brother Lawrence’s faith has matured from discipline to delight. When he says, “I am always happy,” he does not mean the absence of hardship; he means the presence of God has eclipsed every lesser fear. His joy is not fragile—it’s anchored in a God who never abandons those who abide.

And what humility! He admits that if God left him to himself for a single moment, he would collapse in misery. That is not weakness; it is wisdom. It is the confession of one who has learned that self-sufficiency is the enemy of peace. His security rests not in his devotion, but in God’s unchanging faithfulness.

His warning at the end—“Let us fear only to leave Him”—is piercing. The greatest danger for the believer is not pain, loss, or even death; it is forgetfulness of God. Every other trial can be turned into glory if His presence remains.

This letter distills the essence of all Brother Lawrence’s teaching:
Faith is not an escape from suffering; it is the power to remain unshaken in the midst of it.