All theological language is necessarily analogical, but it was singularly unfortunate that the Church, in speaking of punishment for sin, read more

All theological language is necessarily analogical, but it was singularly unfortunate that the Church, in speaking of punishment for sin, should have chosen the analogy of criminal law, for the analogy is incompatible with the Christian belief in God as the creator of Man. Criminal laws are laws, imposed on men, who are already in existence, with or without their consent, and, with the possible exception of capital punishment for murder, there is no logical relation between the nature of a crime and the penalty inflicted for committing it. If God created man, then the laws of man's spiritual nature must, like the laws of his physical nature, be laws -- laws, that is to say, which he is free to defy but no more free to break than he can break the law of gravity by jumping out of the window, or the laws of biochemistry by getting drunk -- and the consequences of defying them must be as inevitable and as intrinsically related to their nature as a broken leg or a hangover. To state spiritual laws in the imperative -- Thou shalt love God with all thy being, Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself -- is simply a pedagogical technique, as when a mother says to her small son, "Stay away from the window!" because the child does not yet know what will happen if he falls out of it.

Some go to the light of nature and the use of "right reason" (that is, their own) as their guides; read more

Some go to the light of nature and the use of "right reason" (that is, their own) as their guides; and some add the additional documents of the philosophers. They think a saying of Epictetus, or Seneca, or Arrianus, being wittily suited to their fancies and affections, to have more life and power in it than any precept of the Gospel. The reason why these things are more pleasing unto them than the commands and instructions of Christ is because, proceeding from the spring of natural light, they are suited to the workings of natural fancy and understanding; but those of Christ, proceeding from the fountain of eternal spiritual light, are not comprehended in their beauty and excellency without a principle of the same light in us, guiding our understanding and influencing our affections. Hence, take any precept, general or particular, about moral duties, that is materially the same in the writings of philosophers and in the doctrine of the Gospel; not a few prefer it as delivered in the first way before the latter.

Commemoration of Nicholas Ferrar, Deacon, Founder of the Little Gidding Community, 1637 It is a Gospel to men who read more

Commemoration of Nicholas Ferrar, Deacon, Founder of the Little Gidding Community, 1637 It is a Gospel to men who are without God, sinful, bewildered, anxious, discouraged, self-sufficient and proud yet destroying themselves and others, caught in a desperate plight from which they cannot extricate themselves. The Bible characterizes men in such a state as "lost", and as being "without hope in the world"... And let no one suppose that such a term as "lost" is merely a bit of conventional theological jargon. It stands for a terrible reality, a reality which modern man in his modern predicament knows only too well from his own bitter experience. It gives rise to the voices of despair which haunt our radios, our newspapers, our fiction and poetry, our stage and screen, our doctors' offices, our hospital wards, our grisly nightmare of atomic war, and the conversation of common people who no sooner meet than they begin to bemoan the fate that has overtaken the world.

Feast of Christina Rossetti, Poet, 1894 At morn I plucked a rose and give it Thee, A rose of joy read more

Feast of Christina Rossetti, Poet, 1894 At morn I plucked a rose and give it Thee, A rose of joy and happy love and peace, A rose with scarce a thorn: But in the chillness of a second morn My rose bush drooped, and all its gay increase Was but one thorn that wounded me. I plucked the thorn and offered it to Thee, And for my thorn Thou gavest love and peace, Not joy this mortal morn: If Thou hast given much treasure for a thorn, Wilt Thou not give me for my rose increase Of gladness, and all sweets to me? My thorny rose, my love and pain, to Thee I offer, and I set my heart in peace, And rest upon my thorn: For verily I think to-morrow morn Shall bring me Paradise, my gift's increase, Yea, give Thy very Self to me.

Commemoration of Thomas à Kempis, priest, spiritual writer, 1471 Be not angry that you cannot make others as read more

Commemoration of Thomas à Kempis, priest, spiritual writer, 1471 Be not angry that you cannot make others as you wish them to be since you cannot make yourself as you wish to be.

Ascension Feast of John and Charles Wesley, Priests, Poets, Teachers, 1791 & 1788 I met the society and read more

Ascension Feast of John and Charles Wesley, Priests, Poets, Teachers, 1791 & 1788 I met the society and explained to them ... the original design of the Methodists, namely, not to be a distinct party, but to stir up all parties, ... to worship God in spirit and in truth; but the Church of England in particular, to which they belonged from the beginning. With this view I have uniformly gone on for fifty years, never varying from the doctrine of the Church at all; nor from her discipline, of choice, but of necessity.

Western European civilization has witnessed a sort of atomizing process, in which the individual is more and more set free read more

Western European civilization has witnessed a sort of atomizing process, in which the individual is more and more set free from his natural setting in family and neighborhood, and becomes a sort of replaceable unit in the social machine, His nearest neighbors may not even know his name. He is free to move from place to place, from job to job, from acquaintance to acquaintance, and -- if he has attained a high degree of emancipation -- from wife to wife. He is in every context a more and more anonymous and replaceable part, the perfect incarnation of the rationalist conception of man. Wherever western civilization has spread in the past one hundred years, it has carried this atomizing process with it. Its characteristic product in Calcutta, Shanghai, or Johannesburg, is the modern city into which myriads of human beings, loosened from their old ties in village or tribe or caste, like grains of sand fretted by water from an ancient block of sandstone, are ceaselessly churned around in the whirlpool of the city -- anonymous, identical, replaceable units. In such a situation, it is natural that men should long for some sort of real community, for men cannot be human without it. It is especially natural that Christians should reach out after that part of Christian doctrine which speaks of the true, God-given community, the Church of Jesus Christ. We have witnessed the appalling results of trying to go back to some sort of primitive collectivity based on the total control of the individual, down to the depths of his spirit, by an all-powerful group. Yet we know that we cannot condemn this solution to the problem of man's loneliness if we have no other to offer. It is natural that men should ask with a greater eagerness than ever before, such questions as these: "Is there in truth a family of God on earth to which I can belong, a place where all men can be truly at home? If so, where is it to be found, what are its marks, and how is it related to, and dis tinguished from, the known communities of family, nation, and culture? What are its boundaries, its structure, its terms of membership? And how comes it that those who claim to be the spokesmen of that one holy fellowship are themselves at war with one another as to the fundamentals of its nature, and unable to agree to live together in unity and concord?" The breakdown of Christendom has forced such questions as these to the front. I think that there is no more urgent theological task than to try to give them plain and credible answers.

Commemoration of John Donne, Priest, Poet, 1631 When all is done, the hell of hells, the torment of torments, read more

Commemoration of John Donne, Priest, Poet, 1631 When all is done, the hell of hells, the torment of torments, is the everlasting absence of God, and the everlasting impossibility of returning to his presence; sayes the Apostle, it is a fearefull thing to fall into the hands of the living God. Yet there was a case, in which David found an ease, to fall into the hands of God, to scape the hands of men: When God's hand is bent to strike, it is a fearefull thing, to fall into the hands of the living God; but to fall out of the hands of the living God, is a horror beyond our expression, beyond our imagination.

One mustn't make the Christian life into a punctilious system of law, like the Jewish, for two reasons. (1) It read more

One mustn't make the Christian life into a punctilious system of law, like the Jewish, for two reasons. (1) It raises scruples when we don't keep the routine. (2) It raises presumption when we do. Nothing gives one a more spuriously good conscience than keeping rules, even if there has been a total absence of all real charity and faith.