The Imitation of Christ (Translated by William Benham with an Introduction by Frederic W. Farrar)

By Thomas a Kempis

15th-century Dutch priest Thomas a Kempis is best known for his famous Christian devotional book, “The Imitation of Christ.” Influenced by the era of Devotio Moderna, or Modern Devotion, a movement of religious reform which called for a return to the Christian principles of humility, obedience, and simplicity of life, Kempis intended his work to help further this reform. Arguably the most famous of all Christian devotional works next to the Bible, “The Imitation of Christ” is divided into four sections: “Admonitions Profitable for the Spiritual Life,” “Admonitions Concerning the Inner Life,” “On Inward Consolation,” and “Of the Sacrament of the Altar.” Immensely popular from its first publication in 1418 up through the Protestant Reformation, the work’s primary emphasis is on the interior life and withdrawal from the world. This edition follows the translation of William Benham and includes an introduction by Frederic W. Farrar.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Digireads.com Publishing
• Release date: Jan 1, 2017
• ISBN: 9781420953992

Thomas a Kempis

Thomas à Kempis, (1380 – 1471) was a late medieval German-Dutch monk who wrote The Imitation of Christ, one of the most popular and best known books on devotion. Born in Kempen to a blacksmith father and schoolteacher mother, Thomas attended a Latin school in the Netherlands from the age of 12 to 19. While there he became a member of the spiritual movement Modern Devotion, founded by Geert Groote. In 1406, he entered the monastery of Mount St Agnes in 1406, where he copied the bible four times, wrote four booklets and instructed novices. Thomas More called “The Imitation Of Christ” one of three books everybody ought to own.

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THE IMITATION OF CHRIST

By THOMAS À KEMPIS

Translated by REV. WILLIAM BENHAM

Introduction by FREDERIC W. FARRAR

The Imitation of Christ

By Thomas à Kempis

Translated by Rev. William Benham

Introduction by Frederic W. Farrar

Print ISBN 13: 978-1-4209-5398-5

eBook ISBN 13: 978-1-4209-5399-2

This edition copyright © 2016. Digireads.com Publishing.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Cover Image: A detail of Christ Commanding his Disciples to Rest, illustration for The Life of Christ, c. 1886-94 (w/c & gouache on paperboard), by James Jacques Joseph Tissot, (1836-1902) / Brooklyn Museum of Art, New York, USA / Bridgeman Images.

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CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION

INTRODUCTORY NOTE

BOOK I.

Chapter I.

Chapter II.

Chapter III.

Chapter IV.

Chapter V.

Chapter VI.

Chapter VII.

Chapter VIII.

Chapter IX.

Chapter X.

Chapter XI.

Chapter XII.

Chapter XIII.

Chapter XIV.

Chapter XV.

Chapter XVI.

Chapter XVII.

Chapter XVIII.

Chapter XIX.

Chapter XX.

Chapter XXI.

Chapter XXII.

Chapter XXIII.

Chapter XXIV.

Chapter XXV.

BOOK II.

Chapter I.

Chapter II.

Chapter III.

Chapter IV.

Chapter V.

Chapter VI.

Chapter VII.

Chapter VIII.

Chapter IX.

Chapter X.

Chapter XI.

Chapter XII.

BOOK III.

Chapter I.

Chapter II.

Chapter III.

Chapter IV.

Chapter V.

Chapter VI.

Chapter VII.

Chapter VIII.

Chapter IX.

Chapter X.

Chapter XI.

Chapter XII.

Chapter XIII.

Chapter XIV.

Chapter XV.

Chapter XVI.

Chapter XVII.

Chapter XVIII.

Chapter XIX.

Chapter XX.

Chapter XXI.

Chapter XXII.

Chapter XXIII.

Chapter XXIV.

Chapter XXV.

Chapter XXVI.

Chapter XXVII.

Chapter XXVIII.

Chapter XXIX.

Chapter XXX.

Chapter XXXI.

Chapter XXXII.

Chapter XXXIII.

Chapter XXXIV.

Chapter XXXV.

Chapter XXXVI.

Chapter XXXVII.

Chapter XXXVIII.

Chapter XXXIX.

Chapter XL.

Chapter XLI.

Chapter XLII.

Chapter XLIII.

Chapter XLIV.

Chapter XLV.

Chapter XLVI.

Chapter XLVII.

Chapter XLVIII.

Chapter XLIX.

Chapter L.

Chapter LI.

Chapter LII.

Chapter LIII.

Chapter LIV.

Chapter LV.

Chapter LVI.

Chapter LVII.

Chapter LVIII.

Chapter LIX.

BOOK IV.

Chapter I.

Chapter II.

Chapter III.

Chapter IV.

Chapter V.

Chapter VI.

Chapter VII.

Chapter VIII.

Chapter IX.

Chapter X.

Chapter XI.

Chapter XII.

Chapter XIII.

Chapter XIV.

Chapter XV.

Chapter XVI.

Chapter XVII.

Chapter XVIII.

Introduction

THE DE IMITATIONE CHRISTI.

A LECTURE BY THE REV. F. W. FARRAR, D. D., F. R. S., DELIVERED IN 1876, IN LONDON, IN A COURSE ON THE COMPANIONS FOR THE DEVOUT LIFE.

No book can achieve a permanent and universal popularity, unless, to an unusual degree, it meets the wants, and stirs the feelings, of the human heart. Accidents of time or circumstance may indeed cause a particular treatise to be widely read, and even to produce a deep impression, for a decade or a generation, but when we find a work valued in all countries—when it is equally popular in every language—when its original influence survives the great secular changes which alter the dynasties, the philosophies, nay, even the religions of mankind—it must then be either the expression of the loftiest individual genius, or into it, as into some sacred goblet, must have been crushed the rich clusters of the wisdom of centuries. Such books are few in number, and they have for the most part been written in immortal verse. Among the works dedicated to religion and morality which have had this high destiny the majority have been so enshrined in the reverence of men, that—like the Vedas, the Zend Avesta, and the Koran—they have been exempted from ordinary criticism as sacred and inspired; but among books confessedly human, the De Imitatione Christi, stands, for diffusion and popularity, alone and unparalleled. Nearest to it is the Pilgrim’s Progress; but the Pilgrim’s Progress owes no little of the spell which it has exercised to the potent interest of its allegory, and yet, even with this aid, it has never attained to the same astonishing preeminence. That a book purely devotional—a book which gains no hold by its eloquence, and derive! no interest from illustration—a book which has no deep mysteries to reveal, no splendid theories to propound, no elaborate conclusions to demonstrate—should have won for itself a supremacy so unquestioned, a gratitude so ardent, is but a fresh confirmation of what the great Greek thinker said, that much learning teacheth not, but the Voice of the Sibyl—that is, the voice of sacred enlightenment—uttering things simple, and unperfumed, and unadorned, reaches through unnumbered years by the aid of God.{1} If the value of a book can in any way be gauged by the hold it wins upon the attention of myriads, then the value of the Imitatio must be indeed immense. It has been in men’s hands for at least four hundred and fifty years; its editions in various ages and in various languages are to be counted by thousands; it has been a favorite with readers of every rank; and though it was written by one of different nationality, of different life, of different religion{2} from our own—though the writer had been cramped for years by the narrowness of the Monastery, and trained from childhood in the aridities of the School—though the disputes which enthralled his day are dead, and the systems which molded his destiny have passed away—though, since he was laid in his unknown grave, Empires have risen and fallen, and Churches flourished and decayed—yet here, in England, and in the latter half of the nineteenth century, it is probable that there are few who are not familiar with those brief, quivering sentences, which make us feel while we read them as though we had laid our hand upon the heart—throbbing with sorrows like our own—which beat so many centuries ago in the old mystic’s breast. Some of us may recall how our greatest living writer of fiction describes the emotions of her heroine, when first, on finding the little volume, a Voice from the far-off Middle Ages communicates to her a soul’s experience and belief. And the author adds, that the reason why, to this day, the small old-fashioned volume works miracles, turning bitter waters into sweetness, is because it was written by a hand that waited for the heart’s prompting;—because it is the chronicle of a solitary, hidden anguish, struggle, trust, and triumph, not written on velvet cushions, to teach endurance to those who are treading with bleeding feet upon the stones. And it remains to all time the lasting record of human needs and human consolations, the voice of a brother, who, ages ago, felt and suffered and renounced—in the cloister perhaps, with serge gown and tonsured head, with much chanting, and long fasts, and with a fashion of speech different from ours—but under the same silent far-off heavens, and with the same passionate desires, the same strivings, the same failures, the same weariness.{3}

The writer of the Imitatio Christi is not known, and perhaps never will be known, with absolute certainty. The dispute about the authorship has filled a hundred volumes, and is still so undecided that the voice of the sweetest and humblest of books has come to us mingled, for the last two and a half centuries, with one of the most bitter and arrogant of literary controversies. The Benedictines, the Congregation of St. Maur, the Canons Regular of St Augustine, the Congregation of the Index, the French Academy, the Parliament of Paris,{4}—Italy, France, Germany, Belgium, England,—have all taken part in the interminable discussion. But what the writer himself said was, Search not who spoke this and that, but attend to what is spoken, and "ama nesciri," love to be unknown. Yet the desire to discover whose is the voice to which we are listening, rises above a mere vain curiosity, because it would be instructive to learn what was the life and what the conditions from which have flowed utterances so sweet and pure. And though the question cannot be considered as settled, it is settled within certain limits. Of the nine or ten saints and doctors to whom at different times the work has been attributed, the pretensions of three alone can be now be said to possess the least germ of probability. These three are a certain Gersen de Cabanis, Thomas Hemerken of Kempen, and Jean le Charlier de Gerson; and the claims of the first of the three,—a supposed Benedictine Abbot of Vercelli, in Italy, who is said to have lived in the earlier years of the thirteenth century but whose very existence is problematical, and of whom at any rate we know nothing whatever beyond the syllables of his name,—those claims, founded on dubious manuscripts, confused orthography, and misread dates, may now be considered to be set at rest.{5}

The two, then, between whom rests the glory of the authorship—though in truth earthly glory was the last thing for which the author would have wished—are Thomas à Kempis, subprior of the Monastery of St Agnes, in the diocese of Cologne, and Jean Gerson, Chancellor of the University of Paris, and one of the grandest figures of his time.

The lives of both these Saints of God fell in the same dreary epoch. It was that age of lead and iron, of political anarchy and ecclesiastical degradation, of war, famine, misery, agitation, corruption, which marked the close of the fourteenth and the beginning of the fifteenth century. Thomas à Kempis, born in 1379, died at the age of ninety-two; Gerson, born in 1363, died at the age of sixty-one. They were thus contemporaries for forty-five years of their lives. But the destinies of the two men were utterly different. Thomas, the son of an artisan, a quiet recluse, a copier of manuscripts, was trained at Deventer, and was received into a monastery in the year 1400 at the age of twenty-one. In that monastery of St. Agnes—valde devotus libenter solus, nunquam otiosus (very devout, willingly alone, never idle){6}—he spent seventy-one years of perfect calm, unbroken except by one brief period, in which he fled from his cell rather than acknowledge an archbishop to whom the Pope had refused the pallium.{7} This was almost the sole event of a life in which we are told that it was his chief delight to be alone in angello cum libello{8} (in a little corner with a little book). He bore, says a brief biography of him, great penury, labors, trials; he composed various short treatises for the edification of youth, in a style plain and simple, yet lofty and effective; and farther, he was for many years a lover of the Lord’s Passion, and marvelously apt at consoling those who were in temptation or adversity.{9}

Far different from this life in a little corner with a little book, was the troubled, prominent, impassioned life of Jean Gerson the Doctor Christianissimus. Rising while yet young to a leading position, he was appointed Chancellor of the University of Paris before the age of thirty, and, struggling against popes, and councils, and mobs, and kings, became the stormiest champion of a stormy time. His life rang with combats and contradictions. Living in the perilous days of Azincour and of the Great Schism,—in the days when a maniac{10} was king of France, and a monster was Pope at Rome,{11} and when a nation, paralyzed at once by foreign invasion and domestic misery, was equally impotent to restrain the furious excesses of the nobles under the Duke of Orleans, or of the butchers under the Duke of Burgundy,—we find him in politics, now a Burgundian thundering into the ears of the princes the terrible maxim, Nulla gratior Deo victima quam tyrannus (no victim more acceptable to God than a tyrant),{12} now an Armagnac pronouncing the funeral oration over the murdered Orleans, refusing to pay taxes to the Cabochiens, and hiding himself from their fury in the vaults of Notre Dame. In church policy we see him, now denouncing in burning language the autocracy of popes, and now accepting the humblest orders of monastic obedience. In religious controversy he is at once the burner of Huss and the model of Savonarola,—at one time urging what he calls the cruel mercy of putting to death the Wickliffe of Bohemia,{13} and at another using language which leads to his denunciation by Romish bishops as a precursor of the Reformation.{14} And, when all his life seemed to have culminated in one long failure; when the University whose authority he had so splendidly supported, was humiliated and crushed; when he is forced to hide under a disguise and wander away from the land to which he dared not return; when he found that the martyrdom of Huss had rather stimulated than checked the spirit of inquiry; when he had wholly failed to elevate the tone of a sordid episcopate, or bring about the reform of a corrupted priesthood; when he had even been unable to procure from the assembled Fathers of Constance, to whose influence he had so largely contributed, any decisive condemnation of the abhorrent doctrine of political assassination; forced then to see how utterly little is man even at his greatest, and how different are the ways of man’s nothing-perfectness from those of God’s all-completeness, the great Chancellor, who has been the soul of mighty councils,{15} and the terror of contumacious popes, takes obscure refuge, first in a monastery of Tyrol,{16} afterwards under the rule of his brother at Lyons, and there, among the strict and humble Celestine monks, passes his last days in humility and submission. Far other thoughts than those of his tumultuous life had been revealed to him as he wandered, in danger and privation, among the mountains of Bavaria,—or, rather, those earlier objects had faded from the horizon of his soul like the burning hues of a stormy sunset; but as, when the sunset crimson has faded, we see the light of the eternal stars, so when the painted vapors of earthly ambition had lost their coloring, Gerson could gaze at last on those living sapphires which glow in the deep firmament of spiritual hopes. He had been a leader among the schoolmen, now he cares only for the simplest truths. He had been a fierce gladiator in the arena of publicity, now he has passed into the life of holy silence. At his hottest period of strife he had cried out, Peace, peace, I long for peace; now at last there has fallen on his soul—not as the world giveth—that peace that passeth understanding. He who had taken his equal place among princes and cardinals, now seeks only the society of little children; and teaching them, and taught by them, and asking no reward but their innocent prayers, he leads them with him to the altar, that there they may lift their little white hands to heaven and follow him in the prayer he teaches them, O my God! O my Creator! have pity on thy poor servant, Jean Gerson. And thus, gathering the little ones around his dying bed that he may breathe his last amid their purity and peace, died the grandest orator and politician of his day; and because even in his worst errors his ends had been unselfish, and even during his most flagrant contradictions his soul had been sincere, they engraved upon his tomb—happy, it has well been said,{17} is he who is worthy of such an epitaph—the two words, Sursum Corda—Lift up your hearts!

It is pleasant to know that there was such an ending to such a life; that one who had drunk of the turbid waters of dispute learnt at last the sweetness of renunciation and obedience; that one who had taken his share in the fierce and profitless logomachies of Nominalists and Realists could quietly say at last, What matters it to us about genera and species?{18}—that one who had felt the utter vanity of human wishes, found at last an Elim in the wilderness, and the shadow of a great rock in a weary land. And whether Gerson actually wrote the Imitatio or not, it seems to me that in many a sentence of it I catch the faint echo of accents which once rang with passion though now they are curbed into humility—the hollow and far-drawn murmurs that follow the subsiding of a storm. There is a certain fascination about the supposition that, at a time when the chief literature consisted of corrupt fabliaux and despicable farce—in that wretched epoch of the Great Schism and the Avignon Papacy—when a great preacher let fall on his trembling auditors the fearful doubt that perhaps, since the Schism began, no single soul had been saved—it is pleasant to think that at such a moment of despair and desolation, of perplexity and terror, amid the ruin of all his objects and the disenchantment of all his hopes, such a man as Gerson should have shown to weary souls the path of peace, and—greater in his downfall than in his splendor—should, from the silence of his monastery, have uttered the quiet voice which has led so many sinners to the feet of God.

And in one form at any rate in which the Imitatio has been most popular, namely, The Book of Internal Consolation—a French version of the Imitatio, less ascetic in tone and more adapted to the simple and the ignorant—it is far from improbable that Gerson had a share.{19} Of the entire book, however, as it now stands, neither he nor any man can be regarded as the exclusive author. No one, I think, can have read it, consecutively and attentively, without having been struck by the differences between the several books. The eloquent and exalted passion of the third book differs wholly from the resigned and humble simplicity of the first, and both from the subtle mysticism of the fourth. The first is perhaps the best and sweetest, and it recalls to mind the deepest peacefulness of holy retirement, the scenery of Perugino, the calm sweet faces of the early Benedictine monks;{20} but the whole book has been compared to a monastic garden, flourishing under the dew of heaven, and filled with the lilies of a purity whiter than snow, the roses of divine love, the blue cyanias of heavenly meditation, the dark violets of nightly prayer.{21} Moods indeed differ at different times, but in point of fact no one person wrote, or perhaps could have written, this book exactly as it stands. It is the legacy of ages; it is the gospel of monasticism; it is the psalter of the solitary; it is the cyclic utterance of the mystic; it is the epic poem of the inward life. It is all involved in the Rule of St. Benedict with its glorification of humility, labor, and obedience,{22} and in that story of how, one evening, the saint stood in the window of Monte Cassino, and saw the whole world beneath him bathed in glory and sunshine, and inspexit et despexit—gazed on, and looked down upon it all. It is in the voluntary pauperism, the rapt asceticism, the radiant happiness of St Francis of Assisi. It is in St. Bernard’s Commentary on the Song of Songs, and in the story of how, while yet a boy, he plunged and stood neck-deep in the icy stream to subdue rebellious thoughts. It is in the Stimulus Amoris of St. Bonaventura, and in the stories of how, when they brought him the offer of a cardinal’s hat, they found him washing the meanest vessels of his monastery, and how when he was asked the source of his astonishing knowledge, he pointed in silence to his crucifix. It is in the sermons of St Thomas of Aquinum, and in his lofty prayer, Give me, O Lord, a noble heart which no earthly affection can drag down! It is in the writings of the Brothers of Windesem;—in the sermons of John Tauler;—in the De Vanitate Mundi of Hugo de St Victore;—in the De Spiritu et Animâ of Isaac de l’Étoile;—in the Arbor Crucifixi Jesu of Ubertino de Casal. The thoughts and expressions of all these may be found in the Imitatio, as in many other devotional and mystic books of the Middle Ages, and in the undisputed writings of Gerson and of à Kempis.{23} Whoever was the compiler of the book did but gather into one rich casket the religious yearnings, the interior consolations, the wisdom of solitary experience, which had been rung from many ages of Christian life. In this sense the bold saying of St. François de Sales is true, that the book has no other author than the Holy Spirit of God.

And therefore, since it is the clearest expression of an eternal yearning of the soul, its profound self-questionings, its unshrinking introspection, its pathetic familiarity

Reviews for The Imitation of Christ (Translated by William Benham with an Introduction by Frederic W. Farrar)

[deusvitae · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

A justly famous devotional work of the 15th century in an accessible translation.Creasy's translation allows the modern reader to really get into and understand the premises of The Imitation of Christ. It is highly recommended.The work itself is a masterpiece of devotional literature: even though Thomas a Kempis may have lived almost six hundred years ago, many of his comments makes it seem that he understands you today. It truly speaks to the unchanging condition of mankind. The author's goal is to increase devotion to Christ and writes compellingly to that end. He uncovers a lot of the difficulties and challenges under which we live and directs us in every respect to Christ. It is a work worth going over time and again.The author lived in medieval Catholicism and the work reflects this at times, but the language and concepts are easily accommodated.Highly recommended.**--galley received as part of early review program

[alrtree · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

There is always something fresh and inspiring to contemplate, no matter where I open this book to! I didn't read this cover to cover, but picked it up now and then.

[neverstopreading-1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Thomas à Kempis' classic work needs no introduction. What makes this edition (Saint Joseph-GIANT TYPE Edition) better than the rest is that it is presented as the devotional that it is, and not as just another "classic writing." The print is giant type, which should make it easier to readfor those with vision problems, especially the elderly. There are also plenty of pictures (some in color, others in black in white) of biblical scenes. I bought this edition because the binding is the most sturdy, which, along with the large print, will enable me to enjoy this book for the rest of my life."The Imitation of Christ" is best read as a daily devotional. I recommend reading one chapter in the morning and one in the evening. It can be read over and over again, gaining continual spiritual benefit.

[ggodfrey_8 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I was forced for many years to attend hateful retrograde churches where the vitriolic rage spewed by parishioners against anyone slightly different from themselves was completely at odds with Christ's teachings. I could see this as a young kid of ten or eleven, and would often simply read the Bible in church, paying no mind to the damnation envisioned by some fulminating nincompoop behind the pulpit. As soon as my turn for Baptism arrived at age 12, I said 'no thanks' and took my gift Bible from the Church of the Brethren in Loganville PA and never looked back. I admire Kempis because he understands the New Testament the way I understand it: Jesus (and I don't think Jesus ever existed as anything other than a literary character) wants people to act like him, not worship him. It's difficult to bilk funds from people who give away all their shit and act like little children, however, so established churches have distorted his utterings down through the ages to justify doing so. Kempis cuts through all that bullshit, and provides a solid underpinning for a moral existence. Yeah, there's a bit too much of 'inviting Jesus into your heart,' etc., but whatever.

[thadeus_10 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Part 4 is an excellent help in preparing yourself for Holy Communion. A must read if you are Catholic!

[ebnelson · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Deserves to be seen as a classic by all Christians—even Lutheran or Calvinistic Evangelicals. His balance between God’s sovereign grace and personal piety is masterful, but the work’s most impressive feature is how well Thomas à Kempis knows the human heart: its trials and its wickedness. Amazing empathetic, even to modern readers living in a highly digital and consumer-driven world. Take, for example, this passage from iii.39: “A man often goes in eager pursuit of something he wants; when he has got it, he doesn’t feel the same about it. Man’s affections are unstable, and are apt to drive him from one desirable object to the next, so that even in trivial matters it is well worth renouncing oneself.” Is he not describing what we commonly call “buyer’s remorse” and the trials of a consumer-driven society? The work is filled with timeless insights such as this, where à Kempis proves that to someone who knows that the world around may change, but the human heart does not, speaking effectively across time is possible—in fact profitable. With his focus on human depravity and the sureness of God’s good grace, à Kempis shows how humility is the path we must be set upon to find any hope of rest or comfort. The dialog format in the second half of the book (between Christ and the learner) can be jarring at times as the voice continuously changes, but you get used to it. Great prayers are interspersed throughout the work, preventing the reader’s experience from becoming too intellectualized.Translations matter. I had tried another translation at first and struggled. The translation by Ronald Knox was immediately engrossing.

[bookomaniac-1 · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

Geschreven voor monniken en dat is er duidelijk aan te merken: erg contemplatief. Niet erg genietbaar meer voor wie in het actieve leven staat. Historische verdienste: de bijna exclusieve accentuering van de persoonlijke relatie tot God.

[stephenjchow · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Counsels relentless self-deprecation on Earth for the sake of God in Heaven. Every sentence is pure gold. An unassuming, compact little black book that simultaneously devastates the mundane and pleases the spirit.I treated this binding with Obenauf's Heavy Duty Leather Preservative, let dry, and then polished thoroughly with a cloth. The leather now looks and feels very much like my 19th century calf bindings. The more you polish it, the better the light brings out the bubbly texture of the leather, which is beautiful.

[stephenbarkley · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I first read the Imitation when I was feeling especially spiritual in high school. I went to my local Christian book store with a few dollars to spend and found an abridged paperback version of it in the reduced bin. What a disaster! I don’t usually put books down once I’ve started them, but after reading the first few chapters carefully, I skimmed the rest. Now, a couple decades past high school, with a nice hardback Everyman’s Library edition in hand, I decided to give Thomas another try. Rather than reading it like a normal book, I read it one or two chapters per morning during my devotions.This book challenged me immensely. It has a poetic power that pierces the superficial skin of modern Christendom. I found myself praying Thomas’ prayers and confessing the things he was repenting. The most important message of the entire volume was the call to distrust your emotions. Divine consolations come and go. We often mature more when we don’t ‘feel’ God than when we do.I do have some difficulties with the work that I think are more than just time-period misunderstandings. For all his insight into the human condition, Thomas has missed a lot of what it means to imitate Christ. Read through the gospels at the same time as the Imitation and you’ll see what I mean. All the talk of mortification can wear you down. A more balanced imitation of Christ would not downplay self-denial, but would also stress the freedom of living eternal life without worry for tomorrow.The second issue is the individual nature of the work, which is a little odd, coming from the fifteenth century. Imitating Christ should drive us outward to love each other. This book, at times, makes it sound like the only thing that matters is the individual’s heart-condition.The last issue I have is a bit of a logical inconsistency. The first three quarters of the work go into detail about the need to distrust your feelings and trust God whether or not there are any heavenly consolations. In the last quarter, he practically begs for those worthy feelings that he believes he should have to celebrate the Eucharist aright.With all that said, this book is still one of the best books on spiritual formation I’ve ever encountered. It offers an almost offensive antidote for those people (like me) who are infected by the spirit of twenty-first century Western-style Christianity. Read it slowly, thoughtfully, and prayerfully at your own risk.

[mrdickie · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I just finished reading the William C. Creasy translation of this Christian classic by the monk, Thomas 'a Kempis. I've read this book several times and enjoyed it each time. This version is easy to read. I'd recommend reading this book to anyone interested in being exposed to a timeless work of literature that has survived for centuries.

[gdill-1 · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

I tried reading this classic, but just couldn't bring myself to finish it. There were certainly a lot of great quotes in it. But, I found the content too dark, lacking joy, very gloomy, with a strong focus on mortification of the soul. This is clearly a Catholic book (duh), with a focus on external deeds and works. Kempis also emphasizes being a hermit, staying away from "worldly" people and not associating with the things of this world. Then, I must ask, how does one possibly communicate the Gospel to those who need Christ the most if we are to stay away from them and their environs? How is the Gospel lived out and modeled to those who are seeking and observing if we are to stay locked in our chambers all day? The Imitation of Christ is clearly a product of Middle Ages Europe, with an emphasis on self-sanctification, mortification of the soul, suffering, and Roman Catholic monasticism. Not that it's bad or wrong, but it just doesn't seem to jive with the Christ that I have come to know as a believer for 20+ years.

[kwmcdonald_1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This book, likely by an Augustinian monk in the early 1400's, is a book of reflections on living a spiritual life. There is a lot of good insight in this book. I've read a book with selections from this, and liked it, so I decided to read the whole thing. You can get an idea of how popular a book it is from the fact that more copies of this book have been printed than any other book in the world, ever, except the Bible itself. He had some things to say about the Lord's Supper that I disagreed with, but his writings on personal consecration are excellent.

[hansarns · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This late Medieval classic, once a Catholic adjunct to the Bible, has suffered much neglect and even derision in recent years. However its emphasis on personal sanctification, acquiring self-knowledge and love of God prepares men and women better for making a contribution to society than activism without a solid spiritual base.

[gbill_7 · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

Sherley-Price’s introduction sets the stage for a closed-minded and intolerant book, referring to combatting “godless Communism” and the “anti-Christ”, and including passages such as “For Thomas, as for all Christians, the sole road to God is through the power and teachings of Jesus Christ, true God and true Man; by the subordination of nature to divine grace; by self-discipline; and by devout use of the Sacraments of the Catholic Church, in particular that of the Holy Eucharist.” Thomas A Kempis himself isn’t much better:“Everyone naturally desires knowledge, but of what use is knowledge itself without the fear of God?”“We are born with an inclination towards evil.” “all those others who strove to follow in the footsteps of Christ … all hated their lives in this world, that they might keep them to life eternal.”“And were you to ponder in your mind on the pains of Hell and Purgatory, you would readily endure toil and sorrow, and would shrink from no kind of hardship.”The messages of humility and simplicity in other parts of the text quickly get lost for me. Man is a worm. God is great. Don’t you dare think of pleasure, or you’ll burn in Hell forever. Ugh.Read Marcus Aurelius’ Meditations instead. Somehow these two have been linked by many, and they shouldn’t be at all. Marcus the pagan was far, far more enlightened.

[seoulful · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Although written in the 15th century to a mainly monastic audience, The Imitation of Christ has great relevance for anyone today seeking a deeper spiritual life. His counsels are not easy to read and apply to one's life for his basic premise is dying to self which he explains with great clarity lest anyone should be slow to understand. Thomas a Kempis speaks as one who has struggled mightily with his own passions and demons, "The war against our vices and passions is harder than any physical toil; and whoever fails to overcome his lesser faults will gradually fall into greater. Your evenings will always be tranquil if you have spent the day well. Watch yourself, bestir yourself, admonish yourself and whatever others may do, never neglect your own soul. The stricter you are with yourself, the greater is your spiritual progress." These are not the words that people in any age are interested in hearing and yet he continues to draw large audiences more than five centuries later. There is a power in his writing because he has put into practice the difficult words of Jesus and thereby achieved a position of authority to teach others.

[borg6mx5 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

A profound meditation on the interior life and sin.

[9inchsnails · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Read this for a class and was pleasantly surprised. It's both an unmistakable product of its time (denouncing the secular entanglements of the medieval Church--I can't help but feel the Avignon Exile was at the back of his mind) and a surprisingly relevant devotional. A Kempis explores the ideas of Augustine and Plato and produces a simple exegesis that emphasizes faith and grace.

[lcjohnson1988_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Title: The Imitation of Christ (Classic Devotions in Today’s Language)Author: Thomas A. Kempis; edited by James N. WatsonPages: 288Year: 2016Publisher: Worthy InspiredMy rating is 5 stars.Thomas A. Kempis wrote a very serious and compelling even convicting devotional to use in personal quiet time with the Lord. I looked up some information on Thomas A. Kempis who was a very intelligent and serious man who sought God. I also learned that this devotional has been the second highest seller of books right behind the Bible. Not only that, this writing has been around for centuries plus it is in several languages. When many other works have long since disappeared, why has The Imitation of Christ not only continued to be around but is still being demanded by readers all over the globe?While it is true that it isn’t inspired and without error like the Bible, I can say I now understand the draw to many people. Originally written in Latin this new edition is in today’s language, making the compelling words easier to understand and apply to our lives. In the edition put together by James N. Watson, the writings are compiled by topic making the devotions easier to find when searching by topic.A couple of the devotions I really marked up because they spoke to my heart by exhorting, pruning or sheering my spirit to imitate the Savior in my life. For example, here is part of a devotion I marked so I can return to it to contemplate it often: “In the cross is health, in the cross is life, in the cross is protection from enemies, in the cross I heavenly delight, in the cross is strength of mind, in the cross is joy of the spirit, in the cross is the height of good deeds, in the cross is holy living.” (pg. 19). What do you think of the quote or better yet what do you sense in your heart as the Spirit speaks to you?There are devotions that are underneath topic headings such as trust, loving, wisdom or obedience. While this is not the complete list at least I hope it gives you enough to really consider obtaining a copy. Then sit before the Lord with your Bible, journal or notebook, writing utensils and this devotional. I promise it won’t take long before you just sit there in awe of God along with coming away from quiet time with a challenge if you really think about the pearls of wisdom within the book. Disclosure of Material Connection: I received one or more of the products or services mentioned above for free in the hope that I would mention it on my blog. Regardless, I only recommend products or services I use personally and believe will be good for my readers. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255. “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.”