Tag: christianity

The Writings of Mr. Lucius Cavandar, XII

James HoganLeave a comment

A few thoughts on a book this lovely springtime day.

20. John G. Paton – A Missionary to the New Hebrides by John Paton. A fantastic autobiography, truly one of the most inspiring and interesting books I’ve read this year. I’ve had this book on my shelf for over a year now and never quite got to it, partly because of its size and partly because of my terribly misplaced thought that because it was a 19th-century autobiography it would be a slow and tedious read. Oh how wrong I was. This book was action-packed (truly!), quick paced and a joy to read. But what is it about? Well, it’s the story of a man’s missionary life in the New Hebrides, an island group a bit to the northwest of Australia. John Paton was a Scottish man who set his course to follow the directions of his Lord and his heart burned within him to go and preach the gospel to those who had never heard such a wondrous mystery. I keep wanting to go into detail on this man’s gospel-fever and his quest to speak of love of Jesus to cannibal heathens and his delight in seeing the Spirit work, yet I cannot do this book justice with my feeble words! But I feel that this book (published in the late 19th century itself) surely is an essential read to anyone seeking to do missionary work in a far off land. Paton discusses the travails and struggles of working with a people whose culture and ways are oh so different…yet he also speaks of the ways in which the men and women he encounters are not that different from the Scottish folks he had left behind. And you’ll notice earlier I used the word “heathen”, a word (along with pagan) that Paton is not shy about slinging around during his narrative. That may seem crass and misguided in this day and age, but of truth I was a bit delighted to read Paton using this word in the sense in which it is the most fitting – of those who do not know God or practice the works of God. As Paton’s work progresses, he is unsparing about his comparisons of the natives he has settled amongst versus the people of his homeland and is very fiery in his describing the majority of his fellow countrymen back home as “white heathens!” Paton with love and grace shows how God works in hearts of people throughout the globe, no matter their colour or race. Yes, some of his descriptors and tone may seem a bit outdated to our modern ears, but all in all, this is a sound book, full of the passion Paton has for seeing the gospel of Jesus Christ be made known. And just as Paton describes the struggle of missionary life in the faraway land, he also spends much time (perhaps too much for my liking?) describing the most dreaded part of all missionary life. Fund-raising. There is much discussion of Paton using his skills in public speaking and relationship forming to criss-cross Australia (and later the world!) to raise awareness for the mission to the New Hebrides and the needs that could be met if regular church-goers felt the urge to give and support. This book felt remarkably modern with Paton’s very real and practical discussion of what was needed to keep the missions supported. At times I felt I disagreed slightly with the approach taken (multiple large collections taken to purchase their own ships which seemed to me perhaps not the right move?) and at times I felt I was only hearing one side of the story (which, true – as this is an autobiography!), but in truth? This book is remarkably valuable as a primary source and a work in which a missionary describes in detail his work over the course of many years. It is even fascinating observing how Paton’s own beliefs change over time. When he is in Ireland for one of his fund-raising tours, he mentions his impatience with the whole “Organ Debate” and the question of instrumental music in churches. He mentions his former staunch belief that instruments should not be allowed in churches but that his practical experience in the New Hebrides using instruments and the singing of hymns changed his mind for good!

I mentioned earlier that this book was action-packed and quick-paced. That is true. There is so much going on, lots of adventures that Paton is involved in (truly only God could have protected him during the many perilous encounters he was involved in!) and the way in which Paton describes the natives and the conversations he had with them is utterly gripping. At times I wished Paton had maybe described himself and his family a bit more (his wife and children were mentioned barely at all!), but that is not Paton’s focus. He is – probably rightfully – focused on the task at hand, the mission to the natives of the New Hebrides and his heart burns to make known the tale. This is not a man writing something so that he might be known by posterity. Nay, this is a man writing a very gripping account of present-day happenings that he might spread awareness of his mission and the work that God hath wrought in lands long-thought unreachable. I would strongly recommend this book to any missionary or anyone with a heart for missions…and indeed, any Christian whose heart thrills to hear the accounts of God working, which even to this day He is.

Symphonic

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This morning I sit on my couch for a few minutes and feel oh so thankful for all the little blessings that continually attend me. It is easy to feel confident in my own accomplishments and gathered goods and say that I have done this, that I have sowed and reaped and gathered and all that I possess is because I have done this or that. But really? What do I have that has not been given to me? What do I possess that I can claim is mine and mine alone? Am I so bold and sovereign to claim that I alone am the master of all that I survey? This is where the introspective soul looks inward and can potentially quail in terror and think that if I have no sovereignty in my own life, what then do I have and of what worth am I? Am I a worm, am I an ephemeral note upon the breeze, a dusting of moss upon the rock facing seaside? And then I look outward and see that I nakedly cling to this rock of a planet that rotates swift and moves in ordered dance throughout the seemingly void space of universal tapestry of being and wonder at my pride that I should think I am of any worth whatsoever when I possess the most miniscule fraction of energetic ability to do anything whatsoever in the momentary life that I lay claim to as birthright. So to combine the two – the inward look at self and worth or lack thereof and the outward look into the immensity of the chaotic void – and what do we come up with but sheer existential terror. It is not entirely a bad thing to be reminded of one’s place in the cosmos, but one must also understand the totality of being and realize there has been revelation of truth if we would have the eyes to see. This revelation echoes in the masterpiece of the heavens and in the conscience that whispers within and even now we hear music on the wind as we stand on the cliff at the edge of the sea and breathe deep of the rich oxygen that has been bestowed upon us by a being too great to comprehend by my aching broken mind. Because yes, this is where I stop looking in and stop looking out and simply stand still and wait to see the face of God. All I have seen in this life is a testimony to the existence of a being beyond myself that has in itself all sovereignty and inherent glory that I cannot claim as mine. I rejoice in that self-evident truth and sigh in satisfaction knowing that I can rest in God. There is nothing I claim as mine own even though my own pride weeps at the thought. Instead I look to the one who made me and acknowledge His claims to all including me. What can I claim? I can claim an inheritance that comes from calling this God my Father – and that is a mystery too wonderful to truly grasp. For how does this come about – acknowledging the eternal being that is God – that I should be his son? It is simple and it is fact and I do not have time to get into all the specifics, but I can be called a son because there was another, one who stepped out of the corridors of the eternal and clothed himself with the raiment of humanity and in a time-bound moment bled real blood and died a real death that I might receive eternal life and be clothed myself with the garments of immortality and receive an inheritance far too rich to be hoped or dreamed of – a life forever in communion with this God who my soul so longs for. And so as the chaotic void was brought to order with the introduction of a word, so the whirling existential dread of my life is brought to peace with the incarnation of this Word, God became flesh – this Jesus Christ who is my forever song. Amen, hallelujah, may my joy never cease. And it never will, but only heighten – for someday soon, someday soon, I shall in my own perfected flesh with my own perfected eyes look upon the risen Christ and quiver at the eternity that before me lies.

Trembling

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How precious it is to be a child of God. Sometimes I feel like I know it, sometimes the feeling flees so far away, that I wouldn’t be surprised if it was on the other side of the Atlantic. Most thankfully my status as a child of God does not depend on my feelings. If it did, I would be in trouble most deep and would spend all my time wailing for paradise that has been lost. But praise be to God – I am a child of God by His work and His alone! I could go on and on about this work – what poetic majesty swells within me as I think of the person of Jesus Christ who lived and died and rose again – historical reality that makes the earth tremble in its wake. Jesus is my Savior who draws me to Himself when all else seems to dim and turn to dross. I need not fear for what’s been lost in this world for all I can say is that I have been found. A sheep I am that’s carried home. A coin I am that’s held aloft in joy. A son I am that’s been offered a place at the table once again. Oh one day how I long to break bread and wine with my Savior Lord. And at this table as I look at my fellow brothers and sisters and commiserate of our common failures (Adam, David, Peter – we have things to discuss) but better yet speak with delight of our common salvation, I can only hold back a sob as I consider the fact that this someday moment is not so far as it might be thought. Soon sometimes seems so far removed from this present me. Yet the day when all shall be changed and I shall be changed and I shall gaze upon my Lord’s face in bliss and joy? This day is drawing nearer. How precious it is to meditate on Jesus.

La bohème

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A few thoughts on books this fine cold Friday evening!

7. Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain. This book remains a classic for a reason. I re-read this one in order to have proper comparison point for James(finished right before I started this one), though honestly I didn’t really need to. I read this a few years ago and remember being delighted by it and you know what? No changes to my thoughts on it, except to be surprised anew by the power and sparkle of Twain’s prose. He tells a fascinating tale here, a story of a boy in a murderous and insane world. Twain – as he always does – loves to highlight the absurdity of people and he does that all over the place in this one. Books could be written about all the different types of people Twain lampoons. Books could be written about all the different manifestations of barbarism that Twain details. I’m sure they have. Is this book a bit old-fashioned? Perhaps it is. Perhaps it’s not quite as fit for the modern taste and sensibilities of modern days. Perhaps it’s a bit too rambling and a bit too unfocused. I still greatly enjoyed this one. I’ve read books written more recently that read far more alien than this one! Twain has a great ear for dialogue and great insight into the human psyche. Grateful that books such as this have been written. And yes, it is known, but Twain does write some truly hilarious dialogue. I will never not laugh at the conversation about mumps.

8. The Adventure of the Christmas Pudding by Agatha Christie. A fine collection of Christie short stories to read this Christmas season. I haven’t read Christie in a while and this book reminded me how much I love her writing! Some of the short stories are a bit weaker than others, but there are definitely at least a few top notch tales here, worthy of the price of admission. I felt the Marple adventure at the end (“Greenshaw’s Folly”) was weakest of the lot. But seeing Poirot back in action again was very fun indeed. “The Mystery of the Spanish Chest” was great fun and I found myself rolling my eyes at all the tropes pulled out in “The Under Dog” yet somehow still found it a great rollicking read. And not in any of the stories did I quite crack them until the end! I got close a few times, but never quite there. Alas. This was a fun light read and I’m glad I picked this one up. Christie is a master for a reason.

9. The City of God by Augustine. Well, that was a book. I have been reading this one for probably far too long and I feel a bit dazed to realise I have actually finished it. This book is an interesting one to think about and perhaps I will revisit these words in a few weeks once I have more time to let this one simmer (yet Augustine’s words have been simmering around in my brain for the past eight months or so, so maybe that is long enough!). I am glad I read this book, yet I’m not sure I’ll ever re-visit. For this book, more than any I’ve read in recent memory, is a chore. Augustine goes here and there and everywhere. Yes the book is structured. Yes there is a progression. But I find myself slightly baffled at times by the topics that Augustine chooses to spend fifty pages on, and then the topics I would consider slightly more important get barely a page. Editors today would have a field day with this one. I don’t generally consider abridged versions of old books a good idea, but I would not argue with someone who chose to read a (good) abridged copy of this book.

Am I really being so harsh on Augustine, one of the prominent theologians of the Christian world? Don’t get me wrong, I don’t dislike this one. I simply find it a bit unfocused and probably not entirely worth the time and effort it takes to read. In a way though, I think I understand why I feel as I do. In some ways, this book has far more value as a historical work than as a theological one. Yes, there are many solid and brilliant theological insights contained therein. Yes, Augustine’s devotion to the faith and high view of Scripture cannot be denied. Yes, Augustine’s clinging to Christ as the only way of salvation and his understanding of being eternally with God as the prime good of mankind was encouraging, and thrilling to meditate on! Yet, I also realise that this book was (as all books are) a product of its time. This is actually quite a polemical work. Augustine is responding to the philosophies of his day and speaking to the world in which he lived. So this book is enlightening and fascinating as we consider the topics that were of supreme and dire importance to the great minds of the late 4th century. In this day we do not perhaps need pages and pages detailing the natures and deficiencies of the pagan gods who were so quickly fading into irrelevance. But still? This book is important because it shows a great man of God (and indeed a great intellect, though that is of lesser importance) defending the faith and boldly speaking forth the gospel of God to a world that was so lost in its own pride and ignorance. Maybe the pride and ignorance of that long-ago world seems odd to us now, yet we cannot smirk too much. In this present world we are just as proud of our ignorance, though we would not put it in such terms. Anyway! I go off the topic. This book is important and it is quite fascinating to see Augustine discussing the Christian faith in a world that had just known the name Jesus Christ for barely four centuries. And I am exceedingly encouraged to see the faith Augustine has in both the nature and work of God, as well as his utter confidence in the Scriptures. Yes, sometimes Augustine says things with absolute confidence that I would…question. Augustine is not perfect and this book is not perfect. Yet still, there are many times where Augustine humbly confesses that he does not quite know the answer and simply puts forth his thoughts in the wisdom that he knows God has given him. Would that we all in this day exhibit more of Augustine’s humility.

This book is an odd one. I think I’m glad I read it? Would I recommend it? Unsure. At least, if you’re going to read Augustine, read Confessions first. I am grateful to ponder the truths that Augustine expounded, though the journey was messy at times. It is good to think that God indeed has a people that He has called into communion with Himself. We are now truly part of the city of God and someday we shall fully and intimately know God in a way we do not know Him now. For that day we long. We do not know exactly the future or how God shall accomplish His will. Yet we do know that God’s will shall be accomplished and that He shall not abandon the people He has called to Himself. There always has been a remnant. And someday this remnant shall weep and rejoice as the bride beams to welcome her bridegroom. Oh come quickly Lord Jesus. This is a desire that burned just as hot in Augustine’s own soul. Someday I wish to talk theology with this dear brother and rejoice as we look on the face of our Lord, even if now we cannot quite imagine what that will be like. We do know it shall be far better than we can think now. Oh Lord Jesus, come quickly.

Light and Life

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I have many thoughts swirling around my mind. Whether they are particularly good or inspired ones is a question for another day. But for the now, I’m grateful for a cosy home and a warm hoodie and a couch that is far more comfortable than it has any right to be. Many other things I can name in this space that deserve the praise, but shall I clutter this place with words too feeble to do justice? I feel now is not the time.

I will say how thankful I am for quiet 6am moments where the house is still and quiet and my mind waking up slowly yet unfilled by a day’s worth of worries thrills to the idea of reading a few pages in the word of God and delighting in truths that have been passed on to us for millennia and in caretaking of these truths I partake in worship as I ponder the wonders of the Holy God who has called me and calls me into closer communion with Himself day by day. And while at times it is tempting to spend time reminiscing and chronicling the past, my best thoughts in this morning hour are ones that look towards heaven. The past is blessed by God and wondrous enough. But what does future bring? Whispers of eternity fill my dreams and I tremble. Does your heart ache to know the joy that comes with seeing our God face to face? Mine does. I dwell on the promises of God and the peace that fills my heart through salvation that been granted me through the dazzling word and work of Jesus Christ my Lord. My eyes lift to heaven and my mind thinks of the eternal future that even now stretches before my slow and feeble feet. My flesh and my heart do fail. How good it is to be near God.

Table Talk

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The windows glow golden in the early evening light. Sunlight trickles past the curtains and falls shyly on Isabel’s hands as she slices the cheese. It’s the simple things that bring her pleasure these days, the way the sharp knife falls through the cheddar and gently kisses her favorite wooden cutting board. It’s the way the hearty pieces of cheese tip over onto the board and make a pile to the side of her hands working on autopilot. These autopilot tasks can be dangerous things sure, as Isabel generally does not enjoy slicing into her fingers in tasks such as these. But for now? Isabel delights in the good work that is preparing food in her kitchen as the late winter light filters inside. There are too many tasks of late that have tasked her cerebral abilities and it is kind of nice to just use her hands and make something that will go to a good purpose. In this case, sandwiches for an adventure. Because of course, adventures demand sandwiches, as everyone knows. Because at some point in the adventure when all goes wrong and the adventure goers are cantankerous and hungry, that’s when the plucky heroine will remember – we’ve got sandwiches! And they’ll pull them out of the knapsack and pass them around. Instantly moods will be improved. Thus it has been, thus it always will be.

The door shakes a bit as a knock sounds once, twice. Thrice. And Isabel knows that pattern and she stops her slicing and tells Harry he can enter. The door opens noisily – she really must get Dad to oil those hinges – and Harry enters in beaming bright. It’s time, Isabel! Are you ready? This is it.

Isabel smiles and turns to him in reply. I can’t say that I’m ready. But I’m here.

Harry frowns at that – usually she is the eager one. But why? What’s the matter? I’ve got the paper and the pens, the compass and the old-style camera. And the raincoats. And a bunch of water bottles in this backpack. And power bars. And two flashlights. And yes extra batteries before you ask. What else? Isabel notices that he at last slows down his spiel as finally picks up on the absent vibe she’s giving off. She’s not trying to space out, it’s just her mind is whirling with deeper mysteries. Harry deserves to know. Why does she always shut him out in the moments when her soul is crying the loudest?

Harry I’m sorry. Isabel sets down the knife and turns to him deliberately this time. I think I’m a bit afraid of what’s to come. I’ve been looking forward to it for so long, but now? I’m just a little scared. Sorry.

Of course, no matter. I’m sorry, Isabel. Have I been rude and pushy? I know I probably have been. I’m sorry.

Oh Harry! Don’t say sorry again. It’s not your fault. I’ve just been thinking a lot lately, about the future and us and this world and my dreams and church and God and your parents and my parents and…well everything.

Harry sighs as a cloud passes across his eyes. He sits down on one of the stools at the island and sets his elbows on top. Ok. Yeah. Ok yeah I get it. There’s a lot going on. Even today. My dad and my mom. Well. You know.

Is she ok?

Yeah, she’s fine. I mean no. But she’s used to it. She shouldn’t have to be. I swear, Isabel, one day I’m really going to talk to him. Maybe it’s my fault.

No Harry. It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault. Hey do you want a sandwich? I think I’ve cut too much cheese.

Harry laughs – only a little forced – and a sparkle returns to his eyes. Sure, I could eat something now. I’m starving since we didn’t even eat anything after church. What do you got? Cheese, cheese and more cheese?

We have some deli turkey too. Let me knock something up. Mayo and mustard ok?

Sure he replies absently as he’s gone back to gazing at the glazed tiles on top the island. Yeah those are fine.

Isabel’s face drops. She’s brought him down to her mood. Well, maybe she ought tell him what she’s really thinking about. For there is more in her head than the universe can contain. This day of all days. She slices a few pieces of bread off the sourdough loaf that Mom made earlier and then goes to the fridge to find the condiments. Turkey, mustard, mayo…and yes, there is some lettuce and even a tomato. She takes the sandwich goods back to the counter and begins assembly of Harry’s sandwich. Mustard on one side, mayo on the other. Turkey, a generous sprinkling of pepper and salt. Lay on a thick slice of cheddar, then the tomato and then the lettuce. Gently press the other piece of bread on top. There. Oh please help this make Harry feel better.

Sandwich in hand, Isabel walks over to Harry. Here you go, good sir. Your afternoon snack as requested. Harry’s head turns up from his studious examination of the counter top and a smile slowly creeps onto his face. You’re aces, Isabel. You know that? He takes the sandwich and takes a bite. He leans back, feet tapping on the floor in rhythm with the branch tapping on the window. That’s a delight, love. Pure culinary bliss there.

Isabel breathes a quick prayer of thanks and sits on the stool next to him. You know what I’m really thinking about, Harry? You were at church today, right?

Harry swallows a bite honestly larger than anyone should ever take and nods. Yeah, we were there. We sat in the back and left early. But we were there. Little good it did dad.

Well you were there for communion yeah? The Lord’s Supper. Isabel let her eyes lock onto Harry’s. This was important and she felt as if it were beyond her ability to communicate. I know me and my family have been going to church since before I was born so maybe it’s just routine for me sometimes. Today was anything but. Do you understand communion?

Harry nods then kind of shakes his head back and forth. Maybe? I know it’s about remembering Jesus on the cross and his sacrifice. It’s not as pomp and circumstance as it was when we used to go to catholic mass. But it still seems like a pretty big deal at Trinity. Definitely wasn’t going to walk up to that table today though. My parents didn’t either, we just watched. I saw you walk up there. You looked so solemn and serious.

Isabel smiled. Yeah. It was a moment. And I’m glad you didn’t go up. It would have not been right. You know.

Harry smiled. Yeah. I know.

Isabel closed her eyes briefly before continuing. Well the bread is there for the body of Christ – broken for us. The wine is for the blood of Christ – shed for us. I say us but you know what I mean. It’s for you if you only believe. We’ve talked about this, I won’t keep saying it again and again. Just know you only need to repent and believe and this gift of Christ is yours. Eternal life and more than just life. Eternal joy in the presence of perfect divinity and love. And the wine and bread at communion – they represent what Christ did for us. And so today…hey is this too much? Isabel bites her lip.

No, Isabel. I…you know I’m trying to figure this out. And I like hearing your passion. Please keep going.

And so she does. Well, Harry – today I was thinking about all this in a different way and it just struck me the sheer reality and power of what Jesus did. The bread we took and broke was real bread. It had substance. I was able to hold it in my hand and eat it and taste it on my tongue. The wine we took and poured was real wine. It had substance. I was able to smell it and sip it and feel it on my tongue. The bread and the wine were real and had real substance. And then I thought – this physical reality that the bread and the wine inhabited and bore witness to – well, so too does Jesus inhabit the real plane of existence. Jesus is just as real and solid and verifiable as the bread and wine on that table. The body of Jesus was able to be touched and hugged and looked upon. And then subsequently it was able to be whipped and beaten and pierced and stabbed. And it was hung on a tree. And this real body of Jesus hung on a real tree and this Jesus that was real died for ones such as you and me. And just as I today at church ate and partook of the bread and wine so too in mystery have I taken and partook and now bear witness to the real Christ who actually in reality walked on this earth. Jesus was real, Harry. You get it? He’s real. He’s not a figment of imagination or a storybook character or some lame religious icon. He’s real. And not past tense. Jesus is real. He lives again. He lives now and someday I will get to see this reality that is more real than anything in this room and I will look at his face and hug his feet and feel his body that died for me and I think I will cry because I can’t help it. Why would God send his son to die for someone like me. I’m pretty terrible sometimes. Why would the God that is real send his son – also real and also God in some incomprehensible mysterious reality – to die a terribly real death for someone like me? This is the meat and potatoes of Christianity, Harry. Jesus is a real person – and by person I mean God and man in perfect divine harmony and reality – and this real person died for me. How can I not weep at that? How can I not want to sing in bliss at the very thought? The infinite God of all grace and love and justice and holiness and perfection and mercy and wrath and patience…this God is my salvation because of the real life that died a real death that day on that terrible and wonderful tree. This is real. This is the true God and eternal life for all that would believe. And that’s me. That’s me. My mind shakes at the thought. My soul quivers in joy. Oh Harry. This is real. Not some vain philosophy. So now wherever we go or whatever adventure you join me in? I want you to know the realest reality that was ever divinely gifted me. It is life with my Jesus for all eternity. Know this is my core and this is my truth. This is more real than any thing you can imagine.

Isabel breathes in quick. And then sighs. Her hands press down on the table as she looks into Harry’s eyes. He has been listening this whole time. What does he think? His mouth opens.

And as he starts to speak the thunder grumbles outside. The storm had come quicker than Isabel thought it would. Where had the golden light gone? Or no. The windows glow a bit brighter now with the flashing of the lightning.

Isabel I…Harry stumbles over his words. You are the best person I know. I still don’t fully know if I can go all the way to being a Christian here. It still is a bit much for me. But. I get what you’re saying. I think. It’s real to you and I don’t deny that.

Harry. Isabel interrupts. That’s the point though. It’s not just real to me. This truth is reality incarnate. This truth is real to everyone, whether people want to believe or not. And you must reckon with that truth. Either you deny it in its entirety or you accept it in its entirety. There’s no going halfway here. It’s not some religion you can kinda just keep what you want and we all agree to disagree. This is life and death.

Harry’s eyes widen. Oh no, did she frighten him in her intensity. But this was real and the words that had come pouring out of her mouth could only have done so with Spirit assistance and Isabel didn’t think she was sorry for anything she’d said. Her spirit felt free and clear and she felt energy pulsing through her in harmony with the songs of stars. But Harry. Are you ok?

I think so Isabel and I want to continue the conversation but…look outside. Isabel glances out the window over the sink. The light pours through. But it’s not night anymore and it’s not storming. It seems as if midday. And she sees a grove of pine trees out beyond. A quick intake of breath. It’s time, Harry. Oh it’s time. Get your backpack. Isabel rapid fire stacks sandwich upon sandwich in the drawstring bag she had prepared. And then she turns to Harry. You’ll follow me? Harry nods, eyes wide. Ok. Hold my hand. Let’s open the door.

And Harry and Isabel walk up to the door as the daylight dances through the curtains draping the window. Isabel looks at Harry. Remember what I’ve said today. That’s all real. And Harry? So is this. They open the door. There is a moment of music spiraling around them and a flash of light. Isabel hears a voice calling her name. Then she is somewhere else. And she feels Harry’s hand in hers. We made it.

Starlight

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This morning the dark lingers. The depth of winter grasps onto the light and keeps it away and while I would appreciate the first rays of sunlight to creep over the horizon, I know I must wait a few more minutes yet. Even so, I now appreciate the fact that I am beginning this week as the year winds to an end and I reflect over all that has been and muse over that which is and shall be. I wish to meditate upon truth in the lamplight that now spills over my shoulder. I have a book upon my lap which contains more of reality than my mind can ever grasp and I gasp to consider that the stars that blaze out overhead cannot outshine the enormity of the pillars of creation that have given me such a sure and steady confidence in the very God who holds my hand. Oh yes I am quite guilty of mixing a few metaphors as I attempt to muster my thoughts – consider that a testimony to the awe that fills my soul as I drink deep the love of God who fills all my dry and dusty places. For yes, this book that I mentioned earlier is the very Word of God – crafted by his hand and set afore us in the wisdom that is beyond our ken. But we may ask – is not this book merely written by common men? This is when our intellectual yearnings take over and we burn to find out more. I would wager – as indeed I have – that this book can hold up to any questions we can throw against it. Just taste and see. There is a divine reason that this book has held up throughout these many years and has placed such a burning in the hearts of those touched by the very Spirit of God. My heart longs for beauty. But beauty unmoored from reality is really no beauty at all, wouldn’t you say? And realizing that, I look up to the stars that sing the songs of heaven and I consider the truths that have enlivened my very soul. From where does my soul come? Or rather – from whom? Why do I long for that which my eyes cannot yet see? I yearn to meet the God greater than that which can be imagined by my little mind. But I do know him as he has for eternity known that he would be with me. What wonders, wonders fill my mind! See the light step over the horizon. I sip my mug of coffee and feel the pleasure that comes with that perfect first cup. Someday a more perfect pleasure will blaze in my soul as I sit at the feet of Jesus Christ and hear his words to me. For now though – I will echo the call of eternity for it does ring in even these everyday mundane realities. There is a song of joy that I would join and so I must away!

Suspension

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One more book to discuss this beautiful Christmas Eve day.

69. Good Tidings of Great Joy by C.H. Spurgeon. A fantastic little book pointing us to the beauty and wondrous truth that is the incarnation of Christ. A book I’ve been looking forward to reading for some time, I decided it was a perfect “Christmas read”. And so it has turned out to be. Reading this these last few weeks leading up to Christmas (and writing this now on Christmas Eve!) has been delightfully encouraging and soul-enlivening. Oh how good it is to consider the foundation of our salvation – the very person and work of Christ! This book is an ideal devotional book, with each “chapter” being only 3-4 pages long and each full of rich truths and passionate declarations of God’s mercies towards us. As always with Spurgeon, his writings are both pastoral in nature and exceedingly glorifying of God, full of rich metaphors and heartfelt pleading for us to consider Jesus. I found my heart stirred as I read this book. It definitely helped to give myself time to sit and be quiet in both body and soul as I read, as we are oh so harried these days by all the stresses of modern life and it is easy to let ourselves be distracted by all the troubles that surround us. But as I took a deep breath and read and meditated on the truths of God expounded by Spurgeon in this little book, I found my heart exceedingly blessed and I enjoyed true rest. We ought to spend more time meditating on the truths of God and our salvation and letting our minds soar to think of things above as we muse on the salvation that is ours in Jesus Christ our Lord – and this book mightily assists with that.

Little Children

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How lovely it is to know and be known by God. This morning I rest in Him, knowing that I am safe and secure in His care, knowing that my future is bright beyond all imagining. And I do not count my future bright because I tabulate up the money or prestige that may one day be mine, nor because I consider all the love that comes my way from those whom I love deeply. Nay, I count my future bright because I look forward with sure hope that I shall one day be sitting in the presence of my God and for all eternity be living in perfect harmony with Him. This eternal life is my hope and my song all the day long. And I do not say it is my hope because of the length of life – if eternity can be defined in length – and the absence of death. That would not be enough. I could not count eternal life my supreme good if this life did not consist in communion with God. Of course, absence of fellowship with God could not in actuality be called life at all. It would be something far worse.

So I circle back and say that this eternal life to which I pin all my hopes and dreams – in realistic fashion since they are based on that real life which was pinned to that real tree oh so many years ago – is a life that fills my heart with song since I know this life will be me sitting at the feet of my Lord in bliss and endless joy. The Spirit within me sings this song and it knows this song since it was the song that it is has written. I know this song because I know the love that my Father has bestowed upon me calling me his very child! Oh such I am! And I know my Father because I know His Son who sweetly calls me every day into deeper fuller communion with Himself in the most perfect symphony of love and grace and sovereign compassion. I know this symphony that I now shakingly lift my voice to sing a minor part because I know Jesus Christ. He is my Shepherd that calls my name and bids me walk along this eternal path towards my home that has been prepared for me. Jesus is the bread that I take and eat in awestruck love knowing what it means that He died for me. Jesus Jesus is my song for now and for all eternity.

Interlude

James HoganLeave a comment

Hello, my friends! A quick few thoughts on latest read…

64. Why God Makes Sense in a World that Doesn’t by Gavin Ortlund. Many thoughts from this book that are still rolling around in my brain. This book is not written to “prove God” or construct a fool-proof argument for Christianity and I think it was important that the author stated that at the outset. Rather, the author uses an abductive approach to show the reasonableness of holding to theism, ending up by holding forth the attractiveness and sheer loveliness of the Christian faith as centered in the person of Christ. This is a book that spirals from the grand and cosmic to the intensely personal. The mind, heart and conscience are engaged from various perspectives before the author moves into a concise and winsome defense for historic Christianity. And no, the author is not presenting an airtight case that will convince the antagonistic skeptic. Rather, the author seeks to show that holding to theism (and more specifically Christianity) is not inherently unreasonable. Instead, there is a beauty, grandeur and pathos to believing in a God who is also a person, in a person who also walked this earth and died to reconcile us to Himself. There are parts of this book that hurt my brain and I daresay I probably need to read it again at some point to more fully understand all of Ortlund’s points. There are many books that the author referenced and quoted that I now very much want to read (this is a good thing!). And the plethora of movie and book references may be a bad thing for some, but I kind of loved them, as they very much spoke to the current moment in which we now live. This is a book that is a product of its time, speaking to the current ethos in which we live. But more than that, this book is an appeal to the humanity in all of us, asking if this humanity as such is simply a cold by-product of undirected physical processes or if in fact that which resonates within us points to a common story that has an Author. Yes, any book that talks about the origins of the universe, math, music, poetry, conscience and moral objectivity will have my attention. But more than any of that? This book calls us to consider the message of the gospel – and to ask the question of last things and what lingers beyond the veil. At the end, the author calls us to make a choice. This is a book that speaks to the seeker, the one who is seeking to grasp the infinite if in fact the infinite can be grasped. Is it possible?

There are many perspectives and views the author grapples with and at times it seems the author cannot quite do justice to the plethora of philosophical and metaphysical views that swirl in the minds of men. Yet he does try, and I appreciate that he does not shy away from the hard questions and that he attempts to honestly dialogue with those whom he disagrees. This is a beautiful primer to understanding how theism fits in and against the current trendy topics du jour, and if anything, it convinced me that most of modern popular thought is spending most of its time in the shallow end, unaware of the vast complexity of philosophy throughout the ages. This opens my eyes a bit, and reminds me how good it is to continue to read old books and old authors, to seek to avoid the biases that are confirmed when we only read authors who write in our own age. Of course I love the constant references and quoting of Tolkien and Lewis, and of course I love the firm devotion to Christ that the author cannot avoid from letting seep through. Yes, the author firmly holds to the task of speaking to the various philosophical schools of thought on many things, but he cannot help but let his wonder and love at the message of Christianity shine forth.