Eucastrophe 1.0
after the last post my mood dropped, hard and fast. Talking about Robert, even after all these years. I know I haven't told that story up here yet in full, but I will. It's not an easy one to tell.
Being home alone all day (I drove to S's work to bring her dinner just now) and the semester ending...often tough for me emotionally. I started getting anxious, a little obsessive, some depression. I knew why, especially when I talked to S about it just a little at her work.
Why do I mention it here? It helps me to do so for one thing. But also there is the bright news. Just a few minutes ago an older couple in our EFM called to ask us to dinner at one of the best, if not the best, French restaurant in my county. I've been there three times, once for my fortieth birthday (which was my last time there). The wife asked if we could go and I hesitated...'but it's our treat!' 'What did you say?' 'It's our treat.' Wow. S and I are completely blown away. They're taking us two and our rector. Why? I don't know, but it feels wonderful since S and I knew we couldn't afford it; a true Christmas miracle, as S said.
And from there I turn to Christianity as a whole. Jesus unequivocally promises comfort in his kingdom for those who suffer. The rich, the comfortable (I would think comfort takes other forms besides the material) cannot easily access Jesus and he said so explicitly. But the broken, the wounded, the orphan, the pariah and the berieved and even the tormented...to these Jesus offers the promise of peace in this life and total peace in the next.
You see how those of us who have known so little love are moved by the merest tremble? Is not the kingdom meant to reach those who despair? Does not such need move the very heart of God himself?
Is this mere wish fulfillment? That is a viable theory. But why not take that up with Jesus; he made the claims, not me. I affirm this besides mountains of speculative gospel criticism in my head. Do I trust my own skepticism or the Voice itself?
Once, many years ago when my brother and I were not in regular contact of any kind, I heard he had gotten sick and gone to the hospital. I was concerned and called to see how he was doing. A friend of his was listening to our phone call in the background. This was a guy I had known since he was in junior high (jh). The friend said, "I love you" so I could hear him. He was speaking to me, and I don't think, or didn't think at the time, that he was kidding. He was moved by my interest in my brother and out of nowhere said that. Would not Jesus have seen an illustration of his kindgom in that moment?
There are pasages in literature which illustrate something like this. I've thought of putting them here one at a time. This first one I have to type total but it's so wonderful...it won't mean much unless you've read O'Brian's The Reverse of the Medal but I hope it still means something:
Jack was led out of the dark room in the strong light, and as they guided him up the steps he could see nothing for glare. 'Your head here, sir, if you please,' said the sheriff's man in a low, nervous conciliating voice, 'and your hands just here.'
The man was slowly fumbling with the bolt, hinge and staple, and as Jack stood there with his hands in the lower half-rounds, his sight cleared: he saw that the broad street was filled with silent, attentive men, some in long togs, some in shore-going rig, some in plain frocks, but all perfectly recongizable as seamen. And officers, by the dozen, by the score: midshipmen and officers. Babbington was there, immediately in front of the pillory, facing him with his hat off, and Pullings, Stephen of course, Mowett, Dundas...He nodded to them, with almost no change in his iron expression, and his eye moved on: Parker, Rowan, Williamson, Hervey...and men from long, long ago, men he could scarcely name, lieutenants and commanders putting their promotion at risk, midshipmen and masters's mates their commissions, warrant-officers their adavancement.
'The head a trifle forward, if you please, sir,' murmured the sheriff's man, and the upper half of the wooden frame came down, imprisoning his defenceless face. He heard the click of the bolt and then in the dead silence a strong voice cry, 'Off hats'. With one movement hundreds of broad-brimmed tarpauling-covered hats flew off and the cheering began, the fierce full-throated cheering he had so often heard in battle.
Off hats indeed. This is an emblem, from a non-Christian writer, of the victory promised the Christian. Death will die. Suffering will be swallowed in joy. Darkness fade to eternal light. Love walk, alive, out of stygian despair with His hands outstretched, looking for His children and those he calls friends.
Maranatha. The creation does indeed groan. It will not groan always.
Being home alone all day (I drove to S's work to bring her dinner just now) and the semester ending...often tough for me emotionally. I started getting anxious, a little obsessive, some depression. I knew why, especially when I talked to S about it just a little at her work.
Why do I mention it here? It helps me to do so for one thing. But also there is the bright news. Just a few minutes ago an older couple in our EFM called to ask us to dinner at one of the best, if not the best, French restaurant in my county. I've been there three times, once for my fortieth birthday (which was my last time there). The wife asked if we could go and I hesitated...'but it's our treat!' 'What did you say?' 'It's our treat.' Wow. S and I are completely blown away. They're taking us two and our rector. Why? I don't know, but it feels wonderful since S and I knew we couldn't afford it; a true Christmas miracle, as S said.
And from there I turn to Christianity as a whole. Jesus unequivocally promises comfort in his kingdom for those who suffer. The rich, the comfortable (I would think comfort takes other forms besides the material) cannot easily access Jesus and he said so explicitly. But the broken, the wounded, the orphan, the pariah and the berieved and even the tormented...to these Jesus offers the promise of peace in this life and total peace in the next.
You see how those of us who have known so little love are moved by the merest tremble? Is not the kingdom meant to reach those who despair? Does not such need move the very heart of God himself?
Is this mere wish fulfillment? That is a viable theory. But why not take that up with Jesus; he made the claims, not me. I affirm this besides mountains of speculative gospel criticism in my head. Do I trust my own skepticism or the Voice itself?
Once, many years ago when my brother and I were not in regular contact of any kind, I heard he had gotten sick and gone to the hospital. I was concerned and called to see how he was doing. A friend of his was listening to our phone call in the background. This was a guy I had known since he was in junior high (jh). The friend said, "I love you" so I could hear him. He was speaking to me, and I don't think, or didn't think at the time, that he was kidding. He was moved by my interest in my brother and out of nowhere said that. Would not Jesus have seen an illustration of his kindgom in that moment?
There are pasages in literature which illustrate something like this. I've thought of putting them here one at a time. This first one I have to type total but it's so wonderful...it won't mean much unless you've read O'Brian's The Reverse of the Medal but I hope it still means something:
Jack was led out of the dark room in the strong light, and as they guided him up the steps he could see nothing for glare. 'Your head here, sir, if you please,' said the sheriff's man in a low, nervous conciliating voice, 'and your hands just here.'
The man was slowly fumbling with the bolt, hinge and staple, and as Jack stood there with his hands in the lower half-rounds, his sight cleared: he saw that the broad street was filled with silent, attentive men, some in long togs, some in shore-going rig, some in plain frocks, but all perfectly recongizable as seamen. And officers, by the dozen, by the score: midshipmen and officers. Babbington was there, immediately in front of the pillory, facing him with his hat off, and Pullings, Stephen of course, Mowett, Dundas...He nodded to them, with almost no change in his iron expression, and his eye moved on: Parker, Rowan, Williamson, Hervey...and men from long, long ago, men he could scarcely name, lieutenants and commanders putting their promotion at risk, midshipmen and masters's mates their commissions, warrant-officers their adavancement.
'The head a trifle forward, if you please, sir,' murmured the sheriff's man, and the upper half of the wooden frame came down, imprisoning his defenceless face. He heard the click of the bolt and then in the dead silence a strong voice cry, 'Off hats'. With one movement hundreds of broad-brimmed tarpauling-covered hats flew off and the cheering began, the fierce full-throated cheering he had so often heard in battle.
Off hats indeed. This is an emblem, from a non-Christian writer, of the victory promised the Christian. Death will die. Suffering will be swallowed in joy. Darkness fade to eternal light. Love walk, alive, out of stygian despair with His hands outstretched, looking for His children and those he calls friends.
Maranatha. The creation does indeed groan. It will not groan always.
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