Fear God and obey his commandments, for this is the whole of human being. – Ecclesiastes
Winter is giving way to spring and the leaves stretching from the brown earth testify to life’s relentless advance. My sleep is disturbed earlier and earlier as the sunshine eagerly warms the cold ground, always excited to meet the waking world each day.
It has been a long winter, but the eagerness of the season’s change catches me unprepared. Surely not yet? Surely a longer sleep? Surely the creeping a scuttling things should hide away in their homes longer still?
My bewildered protests will not halt the march of time.
My degree is coming to an end. It has been nearly four years since I set foot in the grand old house in the hills and all over this country and indeed abroad.
Along the way I have slept and ate and spoken and breathed in the company of so many other people. Every once in a while, I have even been able to call such places ‘home.’ Yet such a feeling is often so fleeting, like a smouldering wick’s smokey trail–Drawn to the heat and light, yet arriving a second after the flame is extinguished.
I have written many words, some I am pleased with and some which bring me great shame. If you’ve spent any length of time here, you’ll have seen both.
Spoken many things too. And if I could take them all back, I would. What a shameful thing my tongue is!
And among all my busy things, every once in a while I have met Jesus.
I am a pharisee, so concerned to do the right thing and speak the things of God that the only time he gets an audience is in the middle of the night. Yet even those brief, fleeting meetings are rarer and rarer.
He is often not the guest you really want. Is he?
Every grand idea or lofty thought, even the clearest vision and pierces insight turns to bile in the throat, when he arrives to be your house-guest.
What do I say to the face of a world’s pain? How can I offer anything to the most beautiful, scarred visage of Divine Light?
I hope the reader will forgive me then, for sitting quietly when he knocks, desperately hoping he doesn’t think I’m in.
After all, there’s an essay to finish.
But it’s sunny out.
Maybe he’s not knocking to come yell at me. What if he just wants to see me?
If that is the truth, I’d rather he demand of me some task or other. Anything but his company. Anything but that fierce love.
No, no please Christ anything but that, such a love you have shown is too hard for me.
Give me another essay, and occupy me with endless study and speaking and busyness. Anything but Christianity.
So little by little it becomes for the individual a serious truth that to live is to be examined, and the highest examination is this: whether one will be in truth a Christian or not. – Kierkegaard