Sheltered From Winds That Beat On Thee

Amy Carmichael: no soft slippers on her feet, no dainty parisian meals to be toyed with and coyly pushed around her plate, no doting hubby protecting her from the scars of the world. In her mission in India she faced the harsh realities of sin in our world, of destroyed lives, of meager rations and little hope for improvement. She willingly sought that life as a young woman, raised in a world of plenty, and more than plenty. Why? For others? Yes. For the girls whom she rescued? Yes! But there seems to be much more to it than that, as this poem and many of her others hint at.


FLAME OF GOD

From prayer that asks that I may be
Sheltered from winds that beat on Thee,

That's How I Believe

Here is a snippet from BRIDESHEAD REVISITED, by Evelyn Waugh. Charles Ryder, the atheist, and Sebastian Flyte, the Catholic, are discussing religion.




"Oh dear, it's very difficult being Catholic."

"Does it make much difference to you?"

"Of course. All the time."

"Well, I can't say I've noticed it. Are you struggling against temptation? You don't seem much more virtuous than me."

"I'm very, very much wickeder," said Sebastion indignantly.

The Postman Life: An Analogy

An analogy related to the post a couple of days ago regarding the need to live the Christian life:

I am a mailman, a postman, a letter carrier. However you say it, that is what I am.

But what makes me a mailman? How do I know that I am a mailman?

Yes, the post office hired me. I applied, took a test, waited for months and then they called. They hired me. But that in itself did not yet make me a mailman.

I went to training. But that did not quite make me a mailman.

I went to work, was given a spot in which to work and shown what to do. But I wasn't a mailman yet.

I began to sort the mail. I prepared the mail and took it to the street. Not a mailman yet.

I put mail into people's mailboxes, checking the names and addresses carefully to make sure it was the right mail in the right box.

I was a mailman! Suddenly it wasn't theory, it wasn't a possibility, it wasn't a goal, and it wasn't dubious. It was certain! I was a mailman because I was doing what mailmen do.

Yet I didn't make myself a mailman. I was called to it. Actually I was called via a postcard in the mail that told me to report to training. No amount of walking down the street fiddling with other people's mailboxes would have ever made me a mailman if the US Postal Service had not chosen and called me.

Conversely, (some extra sensitive Calvinists won't like this part) the US Postal Service did not make me a mailman either. In one sense they did. They called, hired, and trained me; they gave me uniforms, a title, and a place to work. But until I began, rather slowly and hesitantly at first, to actually deliver mail I was not a mailman.

I know that I am a mailman because I live the life of a mailman. Similarly I know that I am a Christian because I live the life of a Christian. (The question of how to define what that life is does not concern me here, just that there is such a life.)

Now as a mailman I do not know everything. I do not really know who lives in the houses. I know only who the tenants tell me lives there, if I can get them to tell me. On my mail route there are very many college students. They tend to move rather frequently, often three or four times a year. And they don't always let me know. So, as I deliver the mail I am very careful to always put only the mail that belongs to a house in their mailbox. I often knock on doors to ask exactly who should currently be getting mail at that address. I am careful.

But no amount of being careful could ever make me one hundred percent accurate. These students move far too often. I know as I am delivering my mail that there are likely to be some homes to which I am delivering mail that no longer belongs there. I am sure to make mistakes that are purely my own fault too. But I am still a mailman, even if I can't be a faultless mailman. I am a mailman because I deliver the mail, not because I am never wrong in some deliveries.

However, lest you hear me saying that it does not matter whether the mail goes to the right home or not, let me assure that it matters very much. I would not be a mailman for long if I didn't care whether the deliveries were accurate. In fact if I really didn't care you might say that I was not even a mailman at all, just some guy who wore a uniform that didn't rightfully belong to me and who was embarrassing the postal service.

Likewise, people who are living the Christian life will not be right in all doctrine, they will not be perfect in all matters of conduct, and their worship style may fall short of the angels saying "Holy, holy, holy," before the throne in heaven. Yet we are truly and exuberantly living the Christian life. We are LIVING, despite our shortcomings.

These shortcomings do not stop us from living the Christian life. Not at all. But they matter. They matter to God, perhaps. But they also matter to the people engaged in this life that Jesus has given us. We care! It is not that by getting it right we will suddenly become true Christians. We already were true Christians. It is that if we didn't care whether our understanding, actions, and worship were appropriate, that would just be proof that we really aren't living the Christian life. We would be disclosed as those who are merely wearing a uniform that doesn't really belong to us.

Leap Day

Happy Leap Day everyone! The Canada Geese are flying north, honking as they go, a sure sign that winter is nearly over!

A couple of days ago I had the book release party for my book, Covenant and Community. It really put things in perspective for me.

It was generously hosted by a local book store, not a Christian store. In fact it is predominantly a pagan store, in the strict meaning of that word. Although the people who run it consider it an open minded store, and it carries books from a wide variety of perspectives, paganism in its many forms overwhelmingly fills its shelves. And the store has a very large gay/lesbian selection.

In fact one of the workers thought it good to warn me a few weeks before the party. "I don't know how much you know about what we carry here, it isn't exactly churchy."

Nonetheless, the bookstore offered to host a book release party for me and I accepted. They put a good deal of work into the preparations and advertising. I was pleasantly surprised at their energy and generosity.

And they did all of this simply because I am one of the community and they are proud to be part of the celebration when one in the community accomplishes something. Even a Christian.

For my part I invited many friends, and of course my whole church, some four or five hundred or so people. I also invited many of the local pastors.

No pastors came. Not even mine. A few friends and four people from my church. Only four, out of the hundreds there, people who have known me for a decade, watched my children grow up. I've taught many of their kids.

After five or six years of working on this book, while working two jobs and homeschooling my children (and many of theirs), I had hoped for a little more by way of church pride in it. But there is none. Not that I wrote it for the congratulations, but the silence is disheartening. When I told my pastor about it he neither asked the title nor the subject of the book. In fact he showed no interest at all in it.

And to underscore the generosity of the store, they didn't even want a cut from the few sales of the book. They did all of that for free.

Pagans believe in community.

Christians don't seem to.

All of which I think goes to show that the book needed to be written, and needs to be read.

So I am comforted.