Tuesday, January 29, 2013

Barbara Spooner: A Lady of Wisdom

"Blessed is the one who finds wisdom, and the one who gets understanding, for the gain from her is better than gain from silver and her profit better than gold."

She was young. She was beautiful. She was rich. And she...was a Methodist. Not a Methodist in the sense in which we think of Methodists today, but rather, someone separate from the Church of England. Someone radically in love with the Lord.

Barbara had been raised in typical upper-class English home. She was the third of ten children, and the daughter of a wealthy banker. Her family was nominally Christian, under the Church of England. But Barbara, only twenty, found this faith wasn't enough. In fact, the Church of England didn't seem to have any faith. Suddenly, Barbara left the life of parties and gambling which she had used to practice. She sought the Lord and found him. Against the wishes of her family, she restrained herself from returning to her former life, and became a Methodist. 

The trouble her family gave her about it was great, but she found that her faith was greater. Many times she must have turned to the Lord, considering the incredible pressures she experienced from her family, friends, and the surrounding culture. She concerned herself instead with the Lord, taking refuge in him. And, as she grew in her knowledge of the Lord, she grew in wisdom. 

Barbara became known within her circles as something of a devout woman: she prayed at regular intervals, began to learn the Scriptures, and committed herself to knowing as much about God as she could. In the meantime, she heard of a man named William, who was said to be just as devout as she, also against his expected behavior. He was well-known, and as it turned out, Barbara had spent much time working in favor of his causes. She was a talented speaker and people-person, so she had done much for social advancement. Now, "pulling a Ruth," Barbara wrote to William, informing him of her need for "spiritual advice."  Within five weeks, the two were wed as Mr. and Mrs. William Wilberforce.

Much rejoicing entailed. It is said that the couple could not stop talking about their sheer joy, they were so in love with the Lord and with each other.

Throughout their married life, William and Barbara enjoyed many blessings, but not without trial. Indeed, it was Barbara who encouraged William in his frequent health failings. It was Barbara who gently rebuked him when he gave up, and it was Barbara who picked up when he could go no further. She sought to advance and protect her husband, her children, and her culture. William frequently recorded in his journal the many ways in which Barbara spoke the wisdom of the Lord to him, and often he wrote of his desire to be "worthy of her."

When, after decades of fighting, William Wilberforce finally abolished the slave trade, he attributed his strength to the Lord, and to his "beloved Barbara." Together, they had won their earthly reward.

Barbara Spooner Wilberforce was an incredible example of a wise woman. She practiced wise restraint by turning from her former ways. In the face of disapproval, she found her approval in the Lord, using her skills to glorify Him. God blessed her, through her wisdom, with William, and he with her, and there was great rejoicing for both. And in her wisdom, she was a source of strength to her family, giving the entire nation of England a great reward. Now, an even greater reward is hers in the presence of our Savior, for whom she had the deepest love of all. 

Wednesday, January 9, 2013

Sin, Sanctification, and Ultimate Salvation


        “For just one bite, the First Soul’s tears were spilt five thousand years and more, yearning for him who suffered in His own flesh for that guilt.”  (Purgatorio, 574, 33.61-63) So Beatrice wisely speaks the gospel into the mind of her humble follower, Dante Alighieri. Throughout his masterful Divine Comedy, Dante paints a picture of sin, sanctification, and ultimate salvation. Biblically and classically, these three words are defining concepts of the process by which humankind is transformed into holykind. From Aristotle to Dante to Lewis, the pattern of redemption is undeniable. This essay will seek to examine the three aforementioned s’s of purification, and walk through several examples of this, in classical, modern, and Biblical literature.
Dante Alighieri is going through midlife crisis.  “Midway in our life’s journey, I went astray from the straight road and woke to find myself alone in a dark wood… Its very memory gives a shape to fear.” (Inferno, 16, 1.1-3, 1.5) At the height of his political and literary career, the pilgrim finds himself utterly lost and enveloped in darkness. All sorts of things have contributed to this, from pride to bitterness, envy to fear – many of which Dante is unaware. This isn’t the first time in literature that such darkness appears, however. In his nearly infamous work, The Republic, Plato gives an example of the darkness that all people – not just the politicians or gangsters – must plod through until they reach some kind of light. “Imagine an underground chamber like a cave… In this chamber are men who have been prisoners there since they were children, their legs and necks being so fastened that they can only look straight ahead of them and cannot turn their heads.” (241, book VII.7.514) Recognizing the problem that humans have, Plato defined the parameters of the crisis Dante would experience: while in darkness, man can only see shadows of reality. But, no diagnosis is complete without specification of the symptoms. Here, Aristotle appears on the scene, ready to tackle one of the biggest underlying issues in human disparity: lack of self-restraint. “For it is clear that the person who acts incontinently does not think that it is right before he finds himself in the situation.” (169, book VII.ii.30-32)  In context, what Aristotle is referring to is any person who sees an immoral act as wrong, then inches up to it until he is so far in, he cannot get out. This person, to put it in Plato’s terms, has bound himself up in his chains, and is utterly stuck, whether knowingly or not. Dante’s crisis is a sudden awareness of his total darkness and moral depravity, an awareness all men and women must face in the course of their lives.
The philosophers of the past were not the only people to see this problem. In his Screwtape Letters, C.S. Lewis reveals the way in which a certain young “patient” is kept in darkness, only just becoming aware that he is surrounded by it. An older demon writes to his nephew, “Thanks to processes which we set at work in them centuries ago, they find it all but impossible to believe in the unfamiliar while the familiar is before their eyes. Keep pressing home on him the ordinariness of things.” (4, letter 1) Often, this is all it takes for humans, whether it is Dante or some modern figure, to become numb to the reality of a perpetually ensuing umbra. It is easy (in darkness, of course) to perceive this notion of a cave as something naïve. Yet the Bible itself preaches the truly depraved condition of mankind in several passages, both in the Old and New Testaments. A prime example of the former is found in Isaiah 55:2. In this verse, the Lord questions Israel on why she has chosen cheap replicas of his great goodness, rather than seeking Him. “Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread, and your labor for that which does not satisfy?” (All Scripture references ESV). Again, in the New Testament, God speaks through Paul in Romans 7:10-11. “The very commandment that promised life proved to be death to me. For sin, seizing an opportunity through the commandment, deceived me and through it killed me.”  Confirming Aristotle’s message about lack of self-restraint, Paul points all this darkness and disparity back to a single word: sin.
Fortunately, Dante isn’t going to be stuck in midlife crisis forever. With a heavenly mandate, Virgil appears, taking Dante through the pits of hell, and on up Mount Purgatory. At the top of purgatory, Virgil vanishes, leaving Beatrice, Dante’s constant love, to guide him through heaven. Before he can enter, however, Dante is drilled by Beatrice, and forced to come face-to-face with the reality of his sin problem. “Speak up! Speak up! Is it true? To such a charge your own confession must give evidence,” Beatrice demands. In terror and remorse, Dante whispers, “The things of the world’s day, false pleasures and enticements, turned my steps...” Condemningly and at the same time lovingly, Beatrice replies, “Had you been silent, or denied what you confess, your guilt would still be known to Him from Whom no guilt may hope to hide.” (Purgatorio, 554-555, canto 31.5-6, 34-39) Such is sin, and such is the process by which all sanctification must begin: confession of sins by inspiration of the Holy Spirit. From there, the Lord, already aware of what has been confessed, begins to purify. Once again, a parameter of this is defined by Plato’s cave. Speaking of the people in bondage, Plato begins, “Suppose one of them were let loose, and suddenly compelled to stand up and turn his head and look and walk towards the fire; all these actions would be painful and he would be too dazzled to see properly the objects of which he used to see the shadows.” (242, book VII.7.515d) Sanctification, that is the purification believers undergo through the Holy Spirit, is often painful and overwhelming. Yet, as God gradually does his work, man slowly loses his grime and become more Christ-like. Plato recognizes a similar process of step-by-step revelation in his cave analogy: “First he would find it easiest to look at shadows, next at the reflections of men and other objects in water, and later on at the objects themselves.” (242, book VII.7.516b) In his Ethics, Aristotle lists proper judgment as one of the “symptoms” of sanctification. “An indication of this [maturing] is the common view that the equitable [man will choose] to judge sympathetically in his judgments and that [it] is equitable to judge sympathetically in certain circumstances. And sympathetic judgment is a correct judgment that decides what is equitable; a correct judgment being one that arrives at the truth.” (160, book VI.xi.21-26) Sanctification produces a purified will, one wherein the conscience is more sensitive to right and wrong.
Lewis’ patient was last left in darkness, to be deceived by demons. Now, he has seen the light and the Holy Spirit is at work in him. Lewis paints a picture of this redeemed will and clarified sight, from the perspective of a horrified demon: “He [God] wants to kill their animal self-love as soon as possible; but it is His long-term policy, I fear, to restore to them a new kind of self-love – a charity and gratitude for all selves, including their own; when they have really learned to love their neighbors as themselves, they will be allowed to love themselves as their neighbors.”  (71-72, letter 14) All these examples of transformational sanctification are glorious, and demonstrate the life-altering nature of God’s work in a believer’s heart. However, none can state it better than the Bible itself. Later in the Isaiah passage, God says this to Israel: “…let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts; let him return to the Lord, that he may have compassion on him, and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon.” (55:7) Sanctification involves deep repentance, and deep grace, raising a battle cry against sin, as Romans 7:22-23 states clearly: “For I delight in the law of God, in my inner being, but I see in my members another law waging war against the law of my mind and making me captive to the law of sin that dwells in my members.” A battle goes on in the process of sanctification, but as Dante and countless other believers discovered, it doesn’t last forever.
“Then as a sweet soul gladly shapes its own good will to the will of others, without protest, as soon as any sign has made it know, so the sweet maid, taking me by the hand and saying in a modest voice to Statius, ‘Come you with him,’ obeyed the good command.” (Purgatorio, 576-577, 33.130-135) In some of the last lines of Purgatory, Dante is about to be led by Beatrice into the glorious realm of Heaven. Only now that his will has been conformed to the will of the Lord, and his sins have been purged, can he go forth to see this glory. Seeing glory isn’t something that only Dante described: as with sin and sanctification, Plato defines the borders of seeing glory, and gives a description of just what that might look like. “The thing he would be able to do last would be to look directly at the sun itself, and gaze at it without using reflections in water or any other medium, but as it is in itself.” (242-243, book VII.7.516b) Seeing God is the ultimate climax of all that sin’s suffering, and sanctification’s sanitizing power, end up in for the Christian believer. God is the single thing that must constantly be looked to, and yet the very thing that the human eye shall last see, praising him for all eternity. When men can do this, they have, by the grace of God, achieved Aristotle’s definition of prudence: “Thus prudence must be a true state, reasoned and capable of action in the sphere of human goods…Yet it is not merely a rational state, as is indicated by the fact that such a state can be forgotten, but prudence cannot.” (151, book VI.v.20-21,28-30) Prudence, and eternity with Yahweh, is ultimately where the Gospel leads us.
In the very end of Lewis’ Screwtape Letters, the “Patient” finally (to the angst of the demons) sees God. “He saw not only Them; he saw Him. This animal, this thing begotten in a bed, could look on Him. What is blinding, suffocating fire to you, is now cool light to him, is clarity itself, and wears the form of a Man.” (174.31) This image of clarifying, eternal salvation and peace in Christ is only made greater in the Holy Bible. Throughout Isaiah 55, much suffering and refinement is depicted by the Lord, but at the end of the passage, the final goal is revealed in such glorious words, they are undeniable: “For you shall go out in joy and be led forth in peace; the mountains and the hills before you shall break forth into singing, and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands. Instead of the thorn shall come up the cypress; instead of the brier shall come up the myrtle; and it shall make a name for the Lord, an everlasting sign that shall not be cut off.” (55:12-13) As if this wasn’t all exhilarating, the Lord speaks through Paul in the opening and closing words of Romans 8: “There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. For the law of the Spirit of life has set you free in Christ Jesus from the law of sin and death…For I am convinced that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.” (8:1-2, 38-39)
Throughout Scripture and classical literature, three very clear stages are set forward in the process of being made holy: sin, sanctification, and ultimate salvation. Sin is that point at which man has a totally depraved nature; sanctification the place in which the Holy Spirit works to make the Christian believer more likened to Christ, with a purified will and a renewed ability to see the light. Ultimate salvation is the time at which the work of Christ is fully realized in the believer, made prudent through grace, who sees and experiences the fullness of the glory of God. When Dante hit midlife crisis, and became aware of his sin, readers can be thankful that Beatrice didn’t let him get stuck there. For, in a beautiful slur of poetry, Dante finishes his journey in Purgatory, being sanctified, with these words: “I came back from those holiest waters new, remade, reborn, like a sun-wakened tree that spreads new foliage to the Spring dew in sweetest freshness, healed of Winter’s scars; perfect, pure, and ready for the Stars.” (Purgatorio, 577, Book 33.142-146)
















Works Cited
Alighieri, Dante. The Divine Comedy: Inferno, Purgatorio, Paradiso. Ciardi, John (translator). New York, NY: New American Library, 2003.
Aristotle. The Nicomachean Ethics. Thomson, J.A.K. (translator). London, England: Penguin Group, 2004
Lewis, C.S. The Screwtape Letters. New York, NY: HarperCollins, 2001
Plato. The Republic. Lee, Desmond (translator). London, England: Penguin Group, 2007
Scripture quotations are from The Holy Bible, English Standard Version (ESV), copyright 2001 by Crossway Bibles, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Tuesday, January 8, 2013

He reigns

Those of you who have been reading my blog for a while might know that I love the morning. Usually, it's the time of day when I'm productive and energetic, but sometimes it is the time when I am just quiet before the Lord, reading his word, watching his Creation wake up. This is one of those mornings. In an hour, I'll be sitting in my algebra class, working beastly problems I'd rather not think about. But for right now, in this moment, I want to tell you about something I've learned about the mornings:

The sun rises twice.

No, not literally, but it sure looks like it to my imaginative eyes. If you live any place moderately sunny, and get up early, you'll probably understand this phenomenon. See, the sun begins to get close to the horizon. When it does, it's not yet up, but it hits the air in such a way that oranges, purples, and deep reds begin to fill the sky. It's glorious! But then, something unexpected happens. Although a dull yellow or orange remains in the sky, the light that was just there is gone. Gone. For people who aren't expecting or accustomed to this, it'll seem weird, and most likely they'll go on about their business. For someone who knows what's coming, however, it's the time to get your camera ready. As the sun is rising, there are a few brief moments where it is hidden behind that  very horizon off which it was sending its rays. Then, in a flash of blinding light, you finally see it. Not just the colors you saw from it before (although those often reappear magically, as well), but you see the sun. It's brighter than all the other colors, and in many ways more beautiful. The great thing is that the sun is up to stay for the whole day. It's really very special when you think about it.

Incredible as that is, there's a similar phenomenon that is even greater, and that's what I want to spend this post talking about. There is another great light that rises twice. This one is actually also known as the Son. He was the son of a king. This king ruled over everything for all eternity, which for a while meant that he ruled over himself, and his son, and his spirit, which were (and are still) united as one. But the king decided that it would please him to create day and night. Then, he separated his home from the expanse, and thus created heaven and earth. On earth he made seas, and he made land. Soon, the king made great lights, terrestrial bodies, in the universe he had placed this earth in. The earth was empty, however, so the king added land animals, fish, birds...and then he created something very special: man.

Well, a whole bunch of things happened, and I'll sum it up by saying that this king created a helper for the man, and she was called woman; they were given one rule not to break (on punishment of death), and you guessed it...they broke it. But this king was the wisest, best, most kind, and still the most just king you could ever imagine. You might think of him like King Arthur on a huger, more perfect scale. Only better. So, in all his goodness, this king decided he wouldn't kill the two right away. But he still had to be just, so he threw them out of the little paradise he had made for them, with the promise that someday someone would save their broken world.

Years passed, then decades, centuries, millenia...and a whole lot of things happened. Through that time, some followed the king. Some payed homage to fraudulent "kings," and some denied any king whatsoever. Then it happened. The hero came, and the world was good...sort of. The hero, the king's son, died to pay the punishment for the disobedience run rampant in the world. He payed the punishment, rose from the dead, saved the world...and then left. A bit like Thor at the end of the Avengers, except this guy didn't shake Loki's hand. And, as it turned out, life seemed to get worse.

But this prince promised he would come back! And you and I are left in the darkness between the two risings of the Son.

What are we to do? If he's supposed to come back, shouldn't he kinda hurry up? This world has gotten pretty bad, in case you haven't noticed. There are earthquakes, wars, disease...when is this guy coming back? Well, you know the answer. He's coming when people of every nation have begun to pay homage to him, when certain prophecies are fulfilled...and we won't ever have any idea when that is.

It sounds a bit morbid, doesn't it? Yes, to tell the truth, it does. That's why I'm writing today: to remind you all (and really, myself) that it isn't quite as bad as it sounds. In fact, it's glorious.

Do you remember reading those stories about King Arthur and the Round Table? How he sent knights on quests? When they came back, the world was still a mess. But they had done their part to heal brokenness, and for that they were rewarded. We too, friends, will be rewarded! We are promised eternity with the Lord, simply for trusting in him. The lion will lie down with lamb, there will be peace, and Jesus will reign forever. How much better can you get?

A lot better. Or at least, you can understand it even deeper. Think for a moment about the reign of Christ. It will be eternal. It will be glorious. It will be a constant fellowship with our Lord, and with one another. Every knee in that kingdom will bow out of love for and admiration of and dedication to this king. Justice will be there, but it will not be painful as it is in this world, because there will be no sin. Joy will be perfect. We can share our memories of how the Lord has worked in this world, and glory in what he is doing there.

Maybe you're like me, and you long for Narnia, or really Aslan's country, to be real. Here's something to lift your spirits today: Aslan's country is real. We are not yet in it. No one is. But on the last day, we will be taken to it, the saints will rise, we will be made fully alive in Christ, and we will be taken to the new earth -- Aslan's country. You and I will look into the sun without being blinded. We will sing and dance with the angels, and with people of every tribe and nation. Jordan's banks won't be stormy, and you won't have to cast a wishful eye, because you will be there.

If all that isn't worth living for, dying for even, then I don't know what is. Money doesn't satisfy. Power will never gratify. Approval leaves you hungry. But knowing you have riches in heaven, the power of the Holy Spirit, and the approval of the God of Heaven who reigns over everything and is coming back, is more satisfying than anything you've ever dreamed. We may live in the darkness now, but we are the light of the world.

And the Son is rising again.

He reigns.



Meridian

Sunday, January 6, 2013

My favorite things...

AKA omnibus books. ;) I had this glorious (and bittersweet) revelation today that in two weeks I will be able to say I am officially 75% of the way done with the Omnibus curriculum. I've made it through semester 1 of omnibus I, semester 2 of omnibus I, semester 1 of omnibus II, semester 2, semester 1, semester 2...all the way to here. Nine semesters down, just three more to go. In honor of this momentous occasion, I'm giving you my top three books from each semester of omnibus I've had. So, you can leave this post with a list of 54 must-read books. If that's too much, I'll put my absolute top ten at the end of the post. And, if you are a student or teacher of omnibus, comment and share your favorites!

For those of you not familiar with the Omnibus, it is a classically-based history, literature  and theology curriculum published by Veritas Press. Throughout each year, the student reads classics, and discusses them in light of history, modern culture, and the Bible. It is truly one of the most rewarding studies for a student of any age (as long as they're at least 12 or 13 ;D). You can find out more about the Omnibus here.

Now, let the list begin!

Omnibus I
Semester 1: The Histories by Herodotus;
                   The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis;
                   Till We Have Faces by C.S. Lewis
Semester 2: The Best Things in Life by Peter Kreeft;
                   The Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis;
                   Julius Caesar by William Shakespeare

Omnibus II
Semester 1: Beowulf, translated by Seamus Heaney;
                   The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien;
                   The Nine Tailors by Dorothy Sayers
Semester 2: The Canterbury Tales by Geoffrey Chaucer;
                   The Divine Comedy by Dante Alighieri;
                   The History of the Kings of Britain by Geoffrey of Monmouth

Omnibus III
Semester 1: A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens;
                  The Pilgrim's Progress by John Bunyan;
                  Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen
Semester 2: The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald
                  The Killer Angels by Michael Shaara
                  Little Women by Louisa May Alcott



Omnibus IV
Semester 1: The Iliad by Homer
                  Poetics by Aristotle
                  Death on the Nile by Agatha Christie        
Semester 2: The War with Hannibal by Livy
                  Eclogues by Virgil
                  Metamorphoses by Ovid

Omnibus V

Semester 1: The Divine Comedy by Dante Alighieri               
                  The City of God by St. Augustine of Hippo
                   A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court by Mark Twain

And, while I think I could make projections...I still have three semesters left before I tell you anything final. ;) That in mind, here are my current top-ten Omnibus books (these are ones that you may love or hate, but you have no choice: they must be read). Please note that some books mentioned above may be more beneficial, but classics, generally speaking, are all beneficial, and the ones I list below are simply my favorites, where a favorite is measured by rereading (and not by force XD), thus they are listed in descending order of how many times I've read them. ;)

Top Ten Omnibus Books

1. The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis

2. The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien

3. Little Women by Louisa May Alcott

4. Beowulf translated by Seamus Heaney

5. The Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis

6. A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens


7. Julius Caesar by William Shakespeare


8. The History of the Kings of Britain by Geoffrey of Monmouth

9. Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen

10. The Divine Comedy by Dante Alighieri

And those, my friends, are books you must read. You'll learn to love foreign worlds, hate rings, appreciate the simple joys in life, fight monsters, play mind games with demons (or rather, avoid playing them); you'll love and hate the same person, deal with betrayal and freedom, find out things about England you never knew before, find yourself more horrified with hell and in love with heaven than ever before, and you may just encounter Mr. Darcy. Let me know how it goes.

Meridian