Robert Maccoll Adams

Feast of Dunstan, Archbishop of Canterbury, 988 Eternal Lord, how faint and small Our greatest, strongest thoughts must seem To read more

Feast of Dunstan, Archbishop of Canterbury, 988 Eternal Lord, how faint and small Our greatest, strongest thoughts must seem To Thee, who overseest all, And leads us through Life's shallow stream. How tangled are our straightest ways; How dimly flares our brightest star; How earthbound is our highest praise To Thee, who sees us as we are. Our feet are slow where Thine are fast; Thy kiss of grace meets lips of stone; And we admit Thy love at last To hearts that have none of their own.

I have this running quandary about Christmas. I get upset about it, because I feel that we American Christians make read more

I have this running quandary about Christmas. I get upset about it, because I feel that we American Christians make too much of it, and too little. Too little of it, because we pile all sorts of other things onto it, including some that have only the feeblest connection with the Event it is supposed to commemorate. If God did become a man, in any real sense, it is the most important thing that ever happened. Surely we, who believe it, could well devote one day a year to uninterrupted contemplation of the fact, and let Saturnalia fall on the winter solstice, where it belongs. On the other hand, we make so much of the actual birth, and forget the things that make it more than just the birth of a baby (though even that is, in Walt Whitman's phrase, "miracle enough to stagger sextillions of infidels") -- more, even, than the birth of the greatest man who ever lived. We forget the promise to Eve of a descendant who will solve the problem of Evil; the promise to Abraham of one by whom all mankind will be blessed; the promise to Moses of a greater prophet than he, to arise from his people; and the promise to David of a Son who would be his Master. We forget about the eternal Purpose behind it all: it's like telling a story and leaving out the point. Yes, it is true that God gave us His Son, and so maybe we ought also to give gifts -- but what, and to whom? It is also true that God gave us Himself, and the only sensible response to that is to give ourselves to Him. There is nothing else that He wants from us, or, if there is something, He can take it. Only I, my ego, my heart, is truly mine to give or to withhold -- and is therefore the appropriate gift to Him.

Commemoration of Brigid, Abbess of Kildare, c.525 Who belongs to the Church? Who is my true brother? We read more

Commemoration of Brigid, Abbess of Kildare, c.525 Who belongs to the Church? Who is my true brother? We cannot always tell whether or not a man believes in Christ; but we can always ask -- Christianity is not a secret society. And if a man says he loves the Lord, why should I not treat him as my brother? If I should happen to welcome one who is only a professing Christian, who has not given his heart to Christ, what harm has it done? I will have offered the love of God to one who rejects it, and I will have given a few hours of my life to an enemy -- but our Father holds out His hands all day long to a rebellious people, and our Savior gave His life for me when I was His enemy.

Feast of Dunstan, Archbishop of Canterbury, 988 In coming to know Jesus, you have come to know yourself, read more

Feast of Dunstan, Archbishop of Canterbury, 988 In coming to know Jesus, you have come to know yourself, too: naturally, this is more pleasant for some than for others, but to see yourself as you really are can never be entirely pleasant. And when a Christian fails at something he ought to have done, it isn't just the failure that hurts -- there is also the knowledge that he has let Jesus down. And those little shortcomings of ours, that used to matter so little, compared with the glaring faults of others: we know now that our temper, or our gloom, or our selfishness, reflects on Jesus; and knowing that people are judging your Lord by you is not always a joyous thought to live with. Even the growing up to His measure is hard on a man: we have so little aptitude for such a transformation that it always means conflict, and often rebellion. And temptations hurt as they never did before: not just in the conscience, but in the heart. The assaults of temptation are not on our prudence now, or even on our morals, but on the love for Jesus. His love for us has made Him quite defenseless against our hurting Him, and so temptation is no longer an urge to do a bad thing but an urge to hurt a loving Person.

So here we are again, a few billion miles farther along our mysterious path among the immensities. What a comfort read more

So here we are again, a few billion miles farther along our mysterious path among the immensities. What a comfort it is to know the Man in charge of it all. Without Him, it would be easy to think that the whole of time and space, and life itself, are without reason, purpose, or meaning -- as H. G. Wells said, that it is "a bad joke beyond our unterstanding, a flare of vulgarity, an empty laugh braying across the mysteries." With Jesus forever between God and us, we can understand a few things, and trust Him for the rest. After all, He is one of us: a baby once, as we all were; then, and forever after, a Man, as we all shall always be.