Sunday, September 29, 2013
Sunday Reflection: The easy acquisition of unknowingness
In fact, the opposite has happened. As I get older, I continually find more mystery in the world, more that I marvel at but don't fully understand, and don't pretend to.
What does that do for faith? For me, it fits in with the rest of what I sense about this world. My central belief is simply that there is a God, and that it isn't me. Necessarily, the God that is must be so much bigger than me that there will be much, maybe everything, about God that I don't understand. Unlike some Christians, I don't feel certainty about specific facts; instead, faith turns me in the other direction, one in which I am comfortable in very often saying "I don't know."
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I am certain of what I believe which is fairly narrow and limited. And certain that there is a lot I do not know and can only surmise. Jesus taught that we are to be humble and not seek to impose on others as "leaders", but to be led by the Holy Spirit.
To me, teaching and writing are not to tell others what to believe, but to offer them the opportunity to consider information and to reach their own conclusion. Imposed faith is a weak substitute for faith arrived at by exploration on one's own.
To me, teaching and writing are not to tell others what to believe, but to offer them the opportunity to consider information and to reach their own conclusion. Imposed faith is a weak substitute for faith arrived at by exploration on one's own.
# posted by 
: 5:59 AM
: 5:59 AM 
I love this poem, by Wendell Berry:
The Real Work
It may be that when we no longer know what to do
we have come to our real work,
and that when we no longer know which way to go
we have come to our real journey.
The mind that is not baffled is not employed.
The impeded stream is the one that sings.
The Real Work
It may be that when we no longer know what to do
we have come to our real work,
and that when we no longer know which way to go
we have come to our real journey.
The mind that is not baffled is not employed.
The impeded stream is the one that sings.
# posted by : 11:45 PM
: 11:45 PM
I like you,Professor. And I love that Wendell Berry poem that Seraphim offered. Love that poet farmer. Wonder how his John Deere is running?
# posted by : 11:54 AM
: 11:54 AM
Professor,
Your expressions remind me of George Herbert's poem. The poet expresses extensive doubt and concern. It leads him to the brink of leaving his faith. But, at the end, he hears the word, "Child." In that instant, he recognizes his relationship to God, recognizes that he is a still a child compared to the almighty Father, and responds humbly and faithfully. Here is the poem:
I struck the board, and cried, No more.
I will abroad.
What? shall I ever sigh and pine?
My lines and life are free; free as the road,
Loose as the wind, as large as store.
Shall I be still in suit?
Have I no harvest but a thorn
To let me blood, and not restore
What I have lost with cordial fruit?
Sure there was wine
Before my sighs did dry it: there was corn
Before my tears did drown it.
Is the year only lost to me?
Have I no bays to crown it?
No flowers, no garlands gay? all blasted?
All wasted?
…
Away; take heed:
I will abroad.
Call in thy death’s-head there: tie up thy fears.
He that forbears
To suit and serve his [own] need,
Deserves his load.
But as I rav’d and grew more fierce and wild
At every word,
Methought I heard one calling, Child:
And I replied, My Lord
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Your expressions remind me of George Herbert's poem. The poet expresses extensive doubt and concern. It leads him to the brink of leaving his faith. But, at the end, he hears the word, "Child." In that instant, he recognizes his relationship to God, recognizes that he is a still a child compared to the almighty Father, and responds humbly and faithfully. Here is the poem:
I struck the board, and cried, No more.
I will abroad.
What? shall I ever sigh and pine?
My lines and life are free; free as the road,
Loose as the wind, as large as store.
Shall I be still in suit?
Have I no harvest but a thorn
To let me blood, and not restore
What I have lost with cordial fruit?
Sure there was wine
Before my sighs did dry it: there was corn
Before my tears did drown it.
Is the year only lost to me?
Have I no bays to crown it?
No flowers, no garlands gay? all blasted?
All wasted?
…
Away; take heed:
I will abroad.
Call in thy death’s-head there: tie up thy fears.
He that forbears
To suit and serve his [own] need,
Deserves his load.
But as I rav’d and grew more fierce and wild
At every word,
Methought I heard one calling, Child:
And I replied, My Lord
# posted by : 4:17 PM
: 4:17 PM << Home
