The works of the Rev. John Wesley, Vol. 05 (of 32)

In Short

This volume presents a foundational exploration of Christian devotion and self-discipline, drawing heavily on the austere, practical theology of William Law. Through direct exhortation and vivid character sketches, it argues that a meaningful spiritual life requires a complete, intentional rejection of worldly vanity in favor of constant prayer, self-denial, and active charity. The text has endured because it strips away the comfortable illusions of nominal faith, demanding instead a radical, lived consistency that challenges the reader’s priorities, whether they are focused on intellectual pursuits, social standing, or the accumulation of wealth.

The Story

The narrative arc of this work is not a traditional story of characters in conflict with external enemies, but rather a progression of moral confrontations. It begins by establishing a high, uncompromising standard for the Christian life. The text posits that salvation is not a passive gift, but the primary "business" of one’s existence. It argues that all people, regardless of their social station or level of education, are called to contribute to the work of salvation. The author quickly pivots from this broad call to a sharp critique of the "learned" and the "prosperous."

The heart of the argument unfolds through the dissection of various human temperaments and common follies. We are introduced to figures like Flatus, a restless seeker of happiness who bounces from one worldly obsession to the next—from fine tailoring and gaming to hunting and architecture. Each of Flatus’s pursuits is portrayed as a desperate, misguided attempt to find fulfillment in things that inevitably fail him. Similarly, the text examines Mandanus, a man of profound intellect and practical judgment in every field except his spiritual life, where he remains stunted, relying on childhood prayers because he never bothered to apply his mature mind to the study of devotion.

As the book progresses, it shifts from identifying these vanities to proposing a rigorous, transformative path forward. The reader is led through a series of "remedies" for the human condition. Humility is presented not as a soft virtue, but as a grueling, active practice that requires a constant, suspicious examination of one’s own motives. The author emphasizes that one cannot truly love one’s neighbor if one is prone to whispered gossip or haughty judgment.

The climax of this moral instruction comes in the form of practical intercession. The story of Susurrus serves as a pivot point; he is a man who masks his malicious gossip as "tender concern" until he is challenged to pray for the very people he slanders. This realization acts as a mirror, forcing him—and the reader—to confront the hypocrisy of a faith that claims love while practicing malice. The work concludes by urging the reader to reject the "dream of life"—the pursuit of wealth and social status—and instead adopt a life of intentional service. It finishes with an invitation to view all labor, however menial, as a form of worship, effectively dissolving the boundary between the sacred and the secular.

How It Unfolds

The call to intentionality The work opens by establishing that the Christian life is a constant, deliberate vocation rather than a peripheral habit. It argues that all people, from the unlearned to the scholarly, are essential members of a single body working toward a common spiritual end.

The critique of intellectual vanity The author challenges those who pride themselves on academic pursuits, suggesting that studying ancient languages or dead poets is often a distraction from necessary religious wisdom. Any inquiry that does not lead to a deeper understanding of one’s soul is labeled a vanity of the disordered mind.

The cycle of worldly obsession The text details the life of Flatus to illustrate how the human heart wanders between worldly joys like hunting, building, and luxury. These anecdotes demonstrate that chasing worldly status is a form of madness that leaves the individual perpetually unsatisfied and unprepared for death.

The discipline of humility The argument moves to the internal work of unmasking pride, which is described as a vice that lurks beneath even the most virtuous-seeming actions. The reader is warned that believing oneself to be humble is the surest sign of a total lack of humility.

The resolution through intercession The final section provides the practical tool of intercessory prayer as a remedy for malice and gossip. By committing to pray for one’s enemies, the individual is forced to align their heart with a genuine charity that makes hypocrisy impossible to maintain.

The People

The figures in this text serve as moral mirrors for the reader. Flatus represents the restless, modern soul; he is a man of vast resources who exhausts himself in a cycle of fleeting hobbies—hunting, drinking, fashion, and architecture. His failure to find peace in these things highlights the emptiness of a life governed by shifting whims rather than fixed principles. Mandanus stands in for the intellectual professional, a man whose command of science and logic is impeccable, yet whose spiritual life remains in a state of infantile neglect. He serves as a warning that brilliance in the world does not grant one exemption from the "whole wisdom" of devotion. Susurrus provides the most poignant transformation; he is a man whose habit of "whispering" harmful stories is initially masked by a veneer of false compassion. Through a sharp rebuke, he discovers that his piety is a sham, eventually moving from a slanderer to a practitioner of rigorous, self-denying intercession. Finally, the unnamed child in the closing sections represents the innocence that must be preserved or reclaimed, serving as the recipient of the author’s final, tender instructions on how to navigate a world that will inevitably fail to provide lasting security.

In Its Own Voice

All enquiries (however learned they may be reckoned) which do not improve the mind in some useful knowledge, that do not make us wise in religious wisdom, are to be reckoned amongst our greatest vanities and follies.

The author dismisses the value of scholarly pursuits if they do not serve a higher moral or spiritual purpose.

For the fuller of pride any one is himself, the more impatient will he be at the smallest instances of it in other people.

This observation challenges the reader to consider that their irritation with others is often a reflection of their own internal moral failings.

What It's Really About

At its core, this book is an argument against the fragmentation of the self. It posits that human suffering and unhappiness are caused by "irreligious passions"—pride, envy, and ambition—which create artificial wants and restless cravings. The text asks a fundamental question: if the end of life is to stand before a divine judge, why do we waste our limited time on things that are inherently "nothings"? It challenges the reader to move beyond a superficial performance of religion and to seek a "right state of heart." The central argument is that happiness is not found in the satisfaction of desires, but in the total renunciation of them in favor of a life centered on service, humility, and the constant, conscious presence of God.

Why Read It Today

Reading this work today is a demanding, occasionally abrasive experience. It is not a book for those seeking gentle spiritual affirmation; it is a book for those who feel the "dream of life" has become hollow and are looking for a sharp, uncompromising critique of modern distraction. The language is eighteenth-century, formal, and dense, which requires a patient, attentive ear. Some readers may find the author’s dismissive attitude toward secular learning or the strictness of his expectations regarding "innocent" activities like fashion and leisure to be jarring or overly ascetic.

However, the experience of reading it feels like a bracing, icy plunge. There is a profound honesty in how the author dissects the psychological mechanics of gossip and vanity. Even if one does not share the specific theological framework, the observations on how we use "busy-ness" to avoid introspection remain remarkably relevant in an age of constant digital noise. It stays with you not because it is comforting, but because it is unsettling in a productive way. It forces a pause, making the reader confront the disparity between what they claim to value and how they actually spend their days. If you are looking for a challenge to your current way of living, this remains a potent, if difficult, companion.