If you were to rise early every morning, as an instance of self-denial, as a method of renouncing indulgence, as read more

If you were to rise early every morning, as an instance of self-denial, as a method of renouncing indulgence, as a means of redeeming your time, and fitting your spirit for prayer, you would find mighty advantages from it. This method, though it seem such a small circumstance of life, would in all probability be a means of great piety. It would keep it constantly in your head, that softness and idleness were to be avoided, that self-denial was a part of Christianity... It would teach you to exercise power over yourself, and make you able by degrees to renounce other pleasures and tempers that war against the soul.

Feast of William Tyndale, Translator of the Scriptures, Martyr, 1536 [William Tyndale] was a master of a simple read more

Feast of William Tyndale, Translator of the Scriptures, Martyr, 1536 [William Tyndale] was a master of a simple and forceful literary style. This, combined with exactness and breadth of scholarship, led him so to translate the Greek New Testament into English as largely to determine the character, form, and style of the Authorized Version. There have been some painstaking calculations to determine just how large a part Tyndale may have had in the production of the version of 1611. A comparison of Tyndale's version of I John and that of the Authorized Version shows that nine-tenths of the latter is retained from the martyred translator's work. Paul's Epistle to the Ephesians retains five-sixths of Tyndale's translation. These proportions are maintained throughout the entire New Testament. Such an influence as that upon the English Bible cannot be attributed to any other man in all the past. More than that, Tyndale set a standard for the English language that molded in part the character and style of the tongue during the great Elizabethan era and all subsequent time. He gave the language fixity, volubleness, grace, beauty, simplicity, and directness. His influence as a man of letters was permanent on the style and literary taste of the English people, and of all who admire the superiority and epochal character of the literature of the sixteenth century.

Commemoration of Thomas Bray, Priest, Founder of SPCK, 1730 The indwelling of Christ's Spirit means not only moral discernment read more

Commemoration of Thomas Bray, Priest, Founder of SPCK, 1730 The indwelling of Christ's Spirit means not only moral discernment but moral power. Paul's count against the Law is that it was impotent through the flesh. Against this impotence Paul sets the ethical competence of the Spirit. "I can do anything in Him who makes me strong," (Phil. 4:13) he exclaims. For his friends in Asia he prays "that God may grant you, according to the wealth of His splendour, to be made strong with power through His Spirit in the inner man, that Christ may dwell in your hearts through your trust in Him." (Eph. 3:16-17) This is the antithesis of the dismal picture presented in Romans 7, and it comes, just as evidently as that, out of experience. Indeed, we may say that the thing above all which distinguished the early Christian community from its environment was the moral competence of its members. In order to maintain this we need not idealize unduly the early Christians. There were sins and scandals at Corinth and Ephesus, but it was impossible to miss the note of genuine power of renewal and recuperation -- the power of the simple person progressively to approximate to his moral ideals in spite of failures. The very fact that the term "Spirit" is used points to a sense of something essentially "supernatural" in such ethical attainments. For the primitive Christians the Spirit was manifested in what they regarded as miraculous. Paul does not whittle away the miraculous sense when he transfers it to the moral sphere. He concentrates attention on the moral miracle as something more wonderful far than any "speaking with tongues." So fully convinced is he of the new and miraculous nature of this moral power that he can regard the Christian as a "new creation." (II Cor. 5:17) This is not the old person at all: it is a "new man," "created in Christ Jesus for good deeds." (Eph. 2:10) (Continued tomorrow).

Commemoration of Brigid, Abbess of Kildare, c.525 There is a cowardice in this age which is not Christian. We read more

Commemoration of Brigid, Abbess of Kildare, c.525 There is a cowardice in this age which is not Christian. We shrink from the consequences of truth. We look round and cling dependently. We ask what men will think; what others will say; whether they will not stare in astonishment. Perhaps they will; but he who is calculating that, will accomplish nothing in this life. The Father -- the Father which is with us and in us -- what does He think? God's work cannot be done without a spirit of independence. A man is got some way in the Christian life when he has learned to say, humbly yet majestically, "I dare to be alone.".

Wisdom stands at the turn in the road and calls upon us publicly, but we consider it false and despise read more

Wisdom stands at the turn in the road and calls upon us publicly, but we consider it false and despise its adherents.

[St. Paul] always contrived to bring his hearers to a point. There was none of the indeterminate, inconclusive talking which read more

[St. Paul] always contrived to bring his hearers to a point. There was none of the indeterminate, inconclusive talking which we are apt to describe as "sowing the seed". Our idea of sowing the seed seems to be rather like scattering wheat out of a balloon... Occasionally, of course, grains of wheat scattered out of a balloon will fall upon ploughed and fertile land and will spring up and bear fruit; but it is a casual method of sowing. Paul did not scatter seeds, he planted. He so dealt with his hearers that he brought them speedily and directly to a point of decision, and then he demanded of them that they should make a choice and act on their choice. In this way he kept the moral issue clearly before them, and made them realize that his preaching was not merely a novel and interesting doctrine, but a life. (Continued tomorrow).

Commemoration of Clement, Bishop of Rome, Martyr, c.100 There are great limits upon the human imagination. We can read more

Commemoration of Clement, Bishop of Rome, Martyr, c.100 There are great limits upon the human imagination. We can only rearrange the elements God has provided. No one can create a new primary color, a third sex, a fourth dimension, or a completely original animal. Even by writing a book, planting a garden, or begetting a child, we never create anything in the strict sense; we only take part in God's creation.

Feast of Cuthbert, Bishop of Lindisfarne, Missionary, 687 The desire for certitude is natural enough and explains the human read more

Feast of Cuthbert, Bishop of Lindisfarne, Missionary, 687 The desire for certitude is natural enough and explains the human tendency to mistake faith for certainty. This is not a specially religious mistake. We think of supernaturalism when faith is mentioned, but the naturalistic description of the world also operates on assumptions that require a faith as robust as does the most soaring mysticism. The usual efforts to skirt faith beg all the questions there are. A psychiatrist, for instance, who points out to you that you believe in God the Father because you need a father, or that you became a missionary to expiate your guilt feelings, may be quite correct, but he has not touched on the prior question as to whether there is, in fact, a cosmic father figure who is the archetype of all other fathers, or whether there is an evangel worth spending your life promulgating.

Feast of Francis of Assisi, Friar, Deacon, Founder of the Friars Minor, 1226 The great wonder is the living read more

Feast of Francis of Assisi, Friar, Deacon, Founder of the Friars Minor, 1226 The great wonder is the living fountain of love and joy which Christ poured into and through this 'poor little man'. [Francis] always knew where the real miracle lay. It was not in things that happened to his body, though they were wonderful enough. It was not to be found in the fact that birds and beasts, even the wolf of Gubbio, felt the spell of his spirit. It was the radiance of light and love breaking across the darkness and hate of the world and his time. He loved lepers. He loved robbers and changed their lives. He loved beggars in their rags. He loved rich men, too, and members of the Church, who needed him as much as the robbers did. He brought Christianity out of forms and creeds and services into the open air, in action and into the movements of life. He changed the entire line of march of religion in the Western World. Brother Masseo, half jesting, asked him once why the whole world was running after him, not very comely, not very wise, not of noble birth. "Why after thee?" "God chose me," Francis answered, "because He could find no one more worthless, and He wished by me to confound the nobility and grandeur, the strength and beauty and learning of the world." But the real answer is that here at last in this wonderful man was an organ of that Spirit which was in Christ, and a marvelous transmitter of it to the world. The divine agape went out into men's lives through him. Here was a childlike lover of men, ready, if need be, to be crucified for love, but also ready in humble everyday tasks to reveal this love.