Maundy Thursday Perhaps we feel that we do not see much to encourage us. "I do not envy those read more

Maundy Thursday Perhaps we feel that we do not see much to encourage us. "I do not envy those who have to fight the battle of Christianity in the twentieth century," wrote Marcus Dods. "Yes, perhaps I do; but it will be a stiff fight." Of course, he did, and anybody with his valiant spirit would. There was a day when our Lord passed through cheering streets wildly enthusiastic; and another day when He watched the crowds deserting Him, till even the disciples themselves seemed to be withering, and He looked at them sadly. "Will you also go away?" He said. And Peter strode across the sudden empty spaces widening around Him, and put his back to Christ's. "No", he cried; "there are two of us, at least", and faced the world, Christ's poor minority of one. I would rather have been Peter than one of the shouting mob. And today, perhaps, we may get our chance of that.

Commemoration of Nicholas Ferrar, Deacon, Founder of the Little Gidding Community, 1637 The conduct of disputation by verbal read more

Commemoration of Nicholas Ferrar, Deacon, Founder of the Little Gidding Community, 1637 The conduct of disputation by verbal brickbat, by innuendo, and by light-fingered intellectual dexterity, is a mordant reminder of the time when controversies were settled by faggot and sword. The truth is hardly less the loser because the inquisitor has altered his methods. All of us who seek to explore the wide reaches of God's revelation, and strive to bring the thinking of others under the domination of Christ, do well to seek first to bring our own rhetorical techniques under that same dominion -- under the discipline, that is, of love.

From the crude cry which we have so often heard during the war years: "If there is a God, why read more

From the crude cry which we have so often heard during the war years: "If there is a God, why doesn't He stop Hitler?", to the unspoken questioning in many a Christian heart when a devoted servant of Christ dies from accident or disease at what seems to us a most inopportune moment, there is this universal longing for God to intervene, to show His hand, to vindicate His purpose. I do not pretend to understand the ways of God any more than the next man; but it is surely more fitting as well as more sensible for us to study what God does do and what He does not do as He works in and through the complex fabric of this disintegrated world, than to postulate what we think God ought to do and then feel demoralized and bitterly disappointed because He fails to fulfil what we expect of Him.

Continuing a Lenten series on prayer: The primary object of prayer is to know God better; we and our read more

Continuing a Lenten series on prayer: The primary object of prayer is to know God better; we and our needs should come second. ... The Notebooks of Florence Allshorn March 16, 2000 Continuing a Lenten series on prayer: I have called my material surroundings a stage set. In this I can act. And you may well say "act". For what I call "myself" (for all practical, everyday purposes) is also a dramatic construction; memories, glimpses in the shavinglass, and snatches of the very fallible activity called "introspection", are the principal ingredients. Normally I call this construction "me"' and the stage set "the real world". Now the moment of prayer is for me -- or involves for me as its condition -- the awareness, the reawakened awareness, that this "real world" and "real self" are very far from being rock-bottom realities. I cannot, in the flesh, leave the stage, either to go behind the scenes or to take my seat in the pit; but I can remember that these regions exist. And I also remember that my apparent self -- this clown or hero or super -- under his grease-paint is a real person with an off-stage life. The dramatic person could not tread the stage unless he concealed a real person: unless the real and unknown I existed, I would not even make mistakes about the imagined me. And in prayer this real I struggles to speak, for once, from his real being, and to address, for once, not the other actors, but -- what shall I call Him? The Author, for He invented us all? The Producer, for He controls all? Or the Audience, for He watches, and will judge, the performance?

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.

Every day the church here (in Antioch] feeds 3000 people. Besides this, the church daily helps provide food and clothes read more

Every day the church here (in Antioch] feeds 3000 people. Besides this, the church daily helps provide food and clothes for prisoners, the hospitalized, pilgrims, cripples, churchmen, and others. If only ten [other groups of] people were willing to do this, there wouldn't be a single poor man left in town.

Commemoration of William Wilberforce, Social Reformer, 1833 A just pride, a proper and becoming pride, are terms which read more

Commemoration of William Wilberforce, Social Reformer, 1833 A just pride, a proper and becoming pride, are terms which we daily hear from Christian lips. To possess a high spirit, to behave with proper spirit when used ill -- by which is meant, a quick feeling of injuries, and a promptness in resenting them -- entitles to commendation; and a meek-spirited disposition, the highest Scripture eulogium, expresses ideas of disapprobation and contempt. Vanity and vainglory are suffered without interruption to retain their natural possession of the heart. ... William Wilberforce, A Practical View July 31, 2000 Commemoration of Ignatius of Loyola, Founder of the Society of Jesus, 1556 Jesus used the term abba (which means father or "daddy" in his Aramaic mother tongue), as an address in his prayers to God. There are no other examples of this usage in contemporary Judaism, but Jesus always addressed God in this way. The others perhaps regarded it as child's talk, a form of expression too disrespectful to be so used. But for Jesus, abba expressed the filial intimacy he felt toward his Father. As the divine Son of the Father, Jesus enjoyed a unique relationship with him, and his mission in the world consisted in opening up the blessings of sonship to those who believe.

Commemoration of Thomas à Kempis, priest, spiritual writer, 1471 It is no great matter to associate with the read more

Commemoration of Thomas à Kempis, priest, spiritual writer, 1471 It is no great matter to associate with the good and gentle; for this is a naturally pleasing to all, and everyone willingly enjoyeth peace, and loveth those best that agree with him. But to be able to live peaceably with hard and perverse persons, or with the disorderly, or with such as go contrary to us, is a great grace, and a most commendable thing. ... Thomas à Kempis July 25, 2000 Feast of James the Apostle When Jesus calls his disciples "brothers" and "friends", he is contradicting general Jewish usage and breaking through into a new concept of brotherhood which is not tribal, but open to any person.

Contentment is not satisfaction. It is the grateful, faithful, fruitful use of what we have, little or much. It is read more

Contentment is not satisfaction. It is the grateful, faithful, fruitful use of what we have, little or much. It is to take the cup of Providence, and call upon the name of the Lord. What the cup contains is its contents. To get all that is in the cup is the act and art of contentment. Not to drink because one has but half a cup, or because one does not like its flavor, or because somebody else has silver to one's own glass, is to lose the contents; and that is the penalty, if not the meaning, of discontent. No one is discontented who employs and enjoys to the utmost what he has. It is high philosophy to say, we can have just what we like if we like what we have; but this much at least can be done, and this is contentment: to have the most and best in life by making the most and best of what we have. ... Maltbie D. Babcock August 7, 2000 Commemoration of John Mason Neale, Priest, Poet, 1866 For all the vigour of his polemic, St. Paul does not content himself with the denunciation of error, but finds the best defense against its insidious approaches in a closer adherence to the love of God and faith in Christ.