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The Writer’s Vision Expands

Whoso offereth praise glorifieth me: and to him that ordereth his conversation aright will I show the salvation of God.

PSALM 50.23

As college students, we would not infrequently take the train into Boston and head to the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum — in the good old days, it was free on Sundays, and so a natural draw for poor students. There, we would go past the gardens, climb the broad marble stairs, head into a dark-tiled room, and stand before Rembrandt’s “Christ on the Sea of Galilee,” a masterpiece of epic proportion. On those Sundays, while the sun crossed the interior gardens below and behind us, we would stand there for a very long time.

It is an astonishing painting. The ship is slung out over towering and fraught waves, and the disciples are, well, going crazy — as are the distraught sailors. One is throwing up over the side; he looks like he wants to toss himself in and end it all. Deep in the hold, so deep that he is hardly visible in many prints of the painting, a red demon grins. But outside, in a whirl of bright light, Christ is utterly, utterly calm, perhaps just waking up. The master of waves and winds is unimpressed with a demon’s skullduggery. He will deal with everything in a moment, he seems to say. Calm down. Relax. All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.

The painting is gone now, stolen in one of America’s most spectacular art thefts. Who knows if it hasn’t been destroyed? But we still travel to that museum once a year — now with college students who are going, as we once did, for the first time. They climb the broad stairs with us, go into the dark-tiled room, and see us stand before the empty frame, which still hangs on the wall — a sign of hope. It gives the students one more reason to be quite sure that we are odd, standing there, in the middle of this room, looking at an empty frame. But they cannot know that when we stand there, we are seeing the painting as if it were on the wall; we are seeing every character, every glint of whirling light, the sinking ship, the wild ropes, the demon, the guy throwing up, and, most of all, the calm Christ. Hang on. It’s all right. I’m here. The storm means nothing. I’m here.

Art drags us in through engagement — we are delighted, appalled, transfixed, amazed, puzzled, made giddily happy, saddened, moved. And art, after beginning with this inescapable capture, enlarges us. We are given greater understanding, we are given greater questions, we are given greater capacities. Art gives us, as Cornelius Plantinga has observed, more to be a human being with, and more to be a Christian with.

I do not know how much theology we learned on Sunday afternoons with Rembrandt. I think, a lot. I know it has given us more to be human beings with, and this, no theft can steal.

But here’s something else to ponder: One of the mysteries of writing is that even as the writer seeks to pose questions and enlarge the reader, she herself is given questions, he himself is enlarged. The writer, seeking to illuminate, is illuminated.

If this is not grace, then no man ever wrote.

Lord, give us weak eyes

for things of little worth

and eyes clear-sighted

in all of your truth.

Søren Kierkegaard

With Thy Spirit with me, my words come without stammering. . . .

I would speak boldly, as I ought to speak.

I would learn the language of love.

I would praise Thee with the voice of mirth and thanksgiving.

I would pray with unsealed lips.

Once I was dumb. Now, in Thy Presence, I speak plainly.

David Head

Kneeling

Moments of great calm,

Kneeling before an altar

Of wood in a stone church

In summer, waiting for the God

To speak; the air a staircase

For silence; the sun’s light

Ringing me, as though I acted

A great rôle. And the audiences

Still; all that close throng

Of spirits waiting, as I,

For the message.

Prompt me, God;

But not yet. When I speak,

Though it be you who speak

Through me, something is lost.

The meaning is in the waiting.

R. S. Thomas

What in me is dark, illumine,

What is low raise and support,

That to the height of this great argument

I may assert eternal Providence,

And justify the ways of God to men.

John Milton

Benediction

Let there be light in all the nightmare places,

in the millrace of license, in the stifled room;

let there be joy in starved and leaden faces,

in charred or sodden furrows, where no tears bloom.

Where stumbling feet, where fumbling hands are groping

against the scope of silence, in dumb primordial caves,

let chords of morning stars bring prismed hoping

and sing far up the slope, where mind blinds out and raves.

Say for me, God, their blessing I am seeking;

Lord, decree for them the sun, and Jesus speak aright

my scattered syllables — for past my yearning, past my speaking,

I have been stammering, let there be light.

William R. Mitchell

O most Holy, Almighty, Eternal, Divine Spirit, Who art of one Authority and Dominion with the Father and the Son; set up Thy throne in our hearts, indwell us, gather us into Thine obedience, reign over us.

Thou Who art Lord and Giver of Life, grant us life, a long life, even for ever and ever.

Thou Who art a Loving Spirit, ever willing to give Thyself to whoso will receive Thee, give Thyself to us, give Thyself to us more and more, and never withdraw Thyself from us.

Thou Who art Purity, purify us: Thou Who art Light, enlighten us: Thou Who art Fullness and Refreshment, make us Thine, keep us Thine, fill us, refresh us.

Thou Who lovest us, grant us grace to love Thee.

O Lord God Almighty, Most Holy Trinity, Jesus Christ is our sole plea for any gift, for any grace.

Christina Rossetti

Blessed you are, Lord God, King of the universe.

Blessed you are, ruler of all being,

God from the beginning and God in the end.

You are Lord of creation,

sending your Spirit to brood upon the deep

and giving to Adam the breath of life.

We bless you for the human spirit,

for the intelligence you have granted to us and to all humankind,

for the energy of our bodies, the strength of our arms,

for the determination of our wills, the power of our imagination.

We bless you that even in our fallen state we have a thirst for you.

We cry out for you.

Our spirits crave the anointing of your Spirit.

Blessed you are, Lord God of Israel,

calling the patriarchs and speaking through the prophets,

enlightening their visions, kindling their hope, teaching them wisdom.

Hughes Oliphant Old

Help the Blind

Heal me, O Jesus,

as you healed the blind:

Bethsaida’s blind man,

Jericho’s Bartimaeus.

Help me see gradually

if you desire

or in an instant of insight

if you choose.

But miracle my seeing

so I may

divine your grace

and join you in your journey.

Thomas John Carlisle

Father God, you are the Author of stories great and small. Forgive me for sometimes thinking that inspiration comes from only the great stories, the powerful narratives, the lyric instances of profound beauty breaking forth on our senses. Make me attentive, Lord, to all that may inspire in the quotidian realities that surround me each day. Help me to listen to the ordinary things people tell me. Make me attend to how they speak and to the yearnings of their hearts that emerge in such daily conversation. If I need fresh language and new metaphors, let them emerge from the ordinary as well as from the extraordinary so that the words I write may, must so, speak strength and grace into the commonplaces of people’s lives. Your Son taught us that those who would be truly great must humble themselves and be the servant of all. In my writing, Lord God, give me a servant’s heart so that I may listen for also that beauty that emerges from even the smallest voices of my everyday.

Scott Hoezee

Stay with me, and then I shall begin to shine as thou shinest: so to shine as to be a light to others. The light, O Jesus, will be all from Thee. None of it will be mine. No merit to me. It will be Thou who shinest through me upon others. O let me thus praise Thee, in the way which Thou dost love best, by shining on all those around me. Give light to them as well as to me; light them with me, through me. Teach me to show forth Thy praise, Thy truth, Thy will. Make me preach Thee without preaching — not by words, but by my example and by the catching force, the sympathetic influence, of what I do — by my visible resemblance to Thy saints, and the evident fullness of the love which my heart bears to Thee.

John Henry Newman

Let Thy Spirit be in our minds, to guide our thoughts towards the truth.

Let Thy Spirit be in our hearts, to cleanse them from every evil and unclean desire.

Let Thy Spirit be upon our lips, to preserve us from all wrong speaking, and to help us by our words to commend Thee unto others.

Let Thy Spirit be upon our eyes, that they may find no delight in looking on forbidden things, but that they may be fixed on Jesus.

Let Thy Spirit be upon our hands that they may be faithful in work and eager in service.

William Barclay

O Lord God, in whom we live and move and have our being, open our eyes that we may behold thy fatherly presence ever about us. Draw our hearts to thee with the power of love. Teach us in nothing to be anxious; and when we have done what thou hast given us to do, help us, O God our Saviour, to leave the issue to thy wisdom. Take from us all doubt and distrust. Lift our thoughts up to thee, and make us know that all things are possible to us, in and through thy Son our redeemer, Jesus Christ our Lord.

William Bright

Without Offerings

I am poor. I don’t bring you

Any more offerings.

I come near you, empty-handed.

The phrases with their explained-away heads

I threw out long ago.

I know how you always rejoiced

In symbols.

As to sad synagogues,

To doorsteps of belief — How hard to come back

To old words.

I know well their places.

I hear their humming.

At times I get close, I look longingly

Through the windowpanes.

But you, still resting in the shadows of biblical trees,

Oh sing me chilly consolation

Of all that you remember, all that you know.

Jacob Glatshteyn

Huswifery

Make me, O Lord, Thy spinning wheel complete.

Thy Holy Word my distaff make for me.

Make mine affections Thy swift flyers neat

And make my soul Thy holy spool to be.

My conversation make to be Thy reel

And reel the yarn thereon spun of Thy wheel.

Make me Thy loom then; knit therein this twine;

And make Thy Holy Spirit, Lord, wind quills;

Then weave the web Thyself. The yarn is fine.

Thine ordinances make my fulling mills.

Then dye the same in heavenly colors choice,

All pinked with varnished flowers of Paradise.

Then clothe therewith mine understanding, will,

Affections, judgment, conscience, memory,

My words and actions, that their shine may fill

My ways with glory and Thee glorify.

Then mine apparel shall display before ye

That I am clothed in holy robes for glory.

Edward Taylor

Lord Jesus,

write your truth in my mind, your joy in my heart, and your love in my life,

that filled with truth, possessed by joy, and living in love,

your integrity, your humour, and your compassion

might be born again in me.

Frank Topping

Vespers

Even as you appeared to Moses, because

I need you, you appear to me, not

often, however. I live essentially

in darkness. You are perhaps training me to be

responsive to the slightest brightening. Or, like the poets,

are you stimulated by despair, does grief

move you to reveal your nature? This afternoon,

in the physical world to which you commonly

contribute your silence, I climbed the small hill above the wild blueberries, metaphysically

descending, as on all my walks: did I go deep enough

for you to pity me, as you have sometimes pitied

others who suffer, favoring those

with theological gifts? As you anticipated,

I did not look up. So you came down to me:

at my feet, not the wax

leaves of the wild blueberry but your fiery self, a whole

pasture of fire, and beyond, the red sun neither falling nor rising —

I was not a child; I could take advantage of illusions.

Louise Glück

Almighty God, who hast sent the spirit of truth unto us to guide us into all truth, so rule our lives by thy power, that we may be truthful in word, deed and thought. O keep us, most merciful Saviour, with thy gracious protection, that no fear or hope may ever make us false in act or speech. Cast out from us whatsoever loveth or maketh a lie, and bring us all to the perfect freedom of thy truth; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

William Bright

Forgive these wild and wandering cries,

Confusions of a wasted youth;

Forgive them where they fail in truth,

And in thy wisdom make me wise.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson

O Light Supreme, that dost so far uplift thee

From the conceits of mortals, to my mind

Of what thou didst appear re-lend a little,

And make my tongue of so great puissance,

That but a single sparkle of thy glory

It may bequeath unto the future people;

For by returning to my memory somewhat,

And by a little sounding in these verses,

More of thy victory shall be conceived! . . .

O how all speech is feeble and falls short

Of my conceit, and this to what I saw

Is such, ’tis not enough to call it little!

O light Eterne, sole in thyself that dwellest,

Sole knowest thyself, and, known unto thyself

And knowing, lovest and smilest on thyself!

Dante Alighieri

A Writer’s Prayer after Psalm 144

God of might and God of glory,

Help me when I write for war.

Let me see the way before me,

Make me see what I am for.

Gracious God,

You know my heart and you know my vexations,

and you know better than I do what I am after.

Purify the source.

Give me clearer vision, so that I may see myself more clearly,

so that I may understand my desires more fully,

explore my virtues more carefully,

and know what battles must be fought.

And then guide my heart, Lord,

so that I fight real enemies and fight them the right way.

Purify the source.

Take away the ache, the hurt, the sullen wrath; take away the rage

that makes it impossible for me to see and hear and know things accurately.

Take away my willfulness, which distorts others and makes them worthy of destruction.

Train my hands for war, but let it be your war.

Destroy those who are full of deceit,

but have mercy on me when I fall short of the truth,

for I am small and broken and do not often know my true state.

We pray for sons and daughters full of grace,

for good harvests and for bounty,

for the city in which there is no cry of distress in the streets.

Bring all those blessings home to me:

Make me gracious, bountiful, peaceful, just.

Purify the source.

James Vanden Bosch

No coward soul is mine,

No trembler in the world’s storm-troubled sphere:

I see Heaven’s glories shine,

And faith shines equal, arming me from fear.

O God within my breast,

Almighty, ever-present Deity!

Life — that in me has rest,

As I — undying Life — have Power in Thee!

Vain are the thousand creeds

That move men’s hearts: unutterably vain;

Worthless as withered weeds,

Or idlest froth amid the boundless main,

To waken doubt in one

Holding so fast by thine infinity;

So surely anchored on

The steadfast rock of immortality.

With wide-embracing love

Thy spirit animates eternal years,

Pervades and broods above,

Changes, sustains, dissolves, creates, and rears.

Though earth and man were gone,

And suns and universes ceased to be,

And Thou wert left alone,

Every existence would exist in Thee.

There is not room for Death,

Nor atom that his might could render void:

Thou — Thou art Being and Breath,

And what Thou art may never be destroyed.

Emily Brontë