"When the holy Abba Anthony lived in the desert he was beset by accidie, and attacked by many sinful thoughts. He said to God, 'Lord, I want to be saved but these thoughts do not leave me alone; what shall I do in my affliction? How can I be saved?' A short while afterwards, when he got up to go out, Anthony saw a man like himself sitting at his work, getting up from his work to pray, then sitting down and plaiting a rope, then getting up again to pray. It was an angel of the Lord sent to correct and reassure him. He heard the angel saying to him, 'Do this and you will be saved.' At these words, Anthony was filled with joy and courage. He did this, and he was saved."
- Anthony the Great from The Sayings of the Desert Fathers. Translated by Benedicta Ward. Collegeville, Minnesota: Liturgical Press, 1984. Print. pp. 1-2
"How can I be saved?" This question seems so foreign to us now. Saved? Saved from what? Saved for what? Undoubtedly, the biggest obstacle a reader from our culture faces in encountering such a statement is the fact that other Christians have tacked so much baggage onto simple words and concepts. Let me be clear, I'm not talking about the clarification and elucidation of core concepts that occurred long ago. Without the early councils we would have no concept of the Trinity, nor would we have the bible as we know it. I'm talking about new innovations like the question: "are you saved?"
Answering this question in the affirmative seems to me to be perhaps the most presumptuous statement one could ever make. And I'm not trying to be dramatic. If you think you can make God's decisions for him then there's really nothing to top that. For a moment, let's compare our contemporary experience with Anthony's. Here's a man that moved into the desert, alone, to more fully commune with God. He forsook every known comfort and convenience to devote himself completely to the Lord. And while in the desert he was 'beset by accidie, and attacked by many sinful thoughts.' This man who gave up everything for God was concerned that even his *thoughts* would keep him from salvation. Fast forward, and today there are believers who are convinced of their salvation because they said a prayer or went up front at a Billy Graham crusade. John MacArthur likes to distinguish people between the saved and the unsaved, like he knows!
Should we worry about our salvation? Certainly, to an extent. Anthony worried to the point his prayer was answered. We should strive to live wisely, in humility, and according to the commands of our leader. We should ask for direction and the things we lack. After that we're simply left to the mercy of God. But we can't presume to know what God will do, nor can we just rest on His mercy like a Sleep Number bed. To do so is the exact opposite of living wisely, in humility, and according to His commands.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Anthony the Great I
"When the holy Abba Anthony lived in the desert he was beset by accidie, and attacked by many sinful thoughts. He said to God, 'Lord, I want to be saved but these thoughts do not leave me alone; what shall I do in my affliction? How can I be saved?' A short while afterwards, when he got up to go out, Anthony saw a man like himself sitting at his work, getting up from his work to pray, then sitting down and plaiting a rope, then getting up again to pray. It was an angel of the Lord sent to correct and reassure him. He heard the angel saying to him, 'Do this and you will be saved.' At these words, Anthony was filled with joy and courage. He did this, and he was saved."
- Anthony the Great from The Sayings of the Desert Fathers. Translated by Benedicta Ward. Collegeville, Minnesota: Liturgical Press, 1984. Print. pp. 1-2
I really like the collection of sayings from the Desert Fathers, so I intend to practice writing by reflecting on as many of them as I can.
It's so easy to see the desert monastic life as tranquil, placid. Having spent a fair bit of time in the deserts of Egypt, I can tell you it must have been anything but. Not that there's anything special about an Egyptian desert (except for those vipers that hide under low scrub), but I'm reminded of a camping trip as a kid.
Six of us crammed into a Toyota sedan and drove nine hours from Cairo to a deserted beach near Sharm el Sheikh on the Red Sea coast of the Sinai Peninsula. At some point along the way the muffler fell off, and I'm pretty sure the air conditioning wasn't working either, as I have a distinct memory of feeling sand-blasted by the desert air through the open windows.
The first thing one saw upon arrival at this beach (called Naama Bay) was a sign in Arabic and English warning people to stay away. Normally, that was really good advice in such a place. Stepping into unknown areas (sometimes quite literally right off the highway) could cause rapid expiration from landmines left behind from wars with Israel. But somehow word had spread among the expatriate population that Naama Bay was safe.
After pushing the car through the sand a couple of times we arrived at our campsite and spent the next three or four days in a living hell. Why, one may ask, were we even there? Because Naama Bay was home to an extraordinary coral shelf. One could walk out about 100 yards in water three to four feet deep, then come to a drop-off down to fifteen feet or so. At this drop-off was a congregation of tropical fish so pleasant it'd put any aquarium to shame. One remarkable and reliable visitor to these parts was "George Jr.", a Humphead Wrass bigger than me by a wide margin. Legends about the whereabouts of "George Sr." were, well, legendary. The only thing certain was that "George Jr." and "George Sr." were not the same fish. In my visits to Naama Bay, I saw "Jr." at least twice, as well as a zillion varieties of triggerfish, butterflyfish, and angelfish among others. It was an aquatic paradise.
But you could only spend so much time in the water. On shore it was about 105 degrees in the heat of the day, cooling to a brisk 90ish at night. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, and not a lot of breeze either. It doesn't take much to imagine how unpleasant this weather could be while living in a sandbox for a few days, going in and out of salt water with no shower. As a bonus, one night I knocked over an open apple juice carton while sleeping and woke up with my head stuck to the floor of the tent. Oh, there was obviously no bathroom either. It was literally the second dune on the left.
This is the experience I envision a lot of Desert Fathers had. They were hot, dirty, smelly, hungry, thirsty, unshaven, and wore the same set of clothes for ages. It's no wonder they succumbed to acedia. So why did they go? Because they wanted to serve God. That ascesis, that struggle and self-denial, was the path to draw closer to God. This path led so close they were able to see the spiritual, the invisible, like we see trees or rocks or water. In my experience, the hell of getting to the beach and camping there was necessary to behold the glories in the water. For the Desert Fathers (and those that still withdraw to the lonely places in the world) the struggle in the desert aids in a devotion to God so intense that the world beyond the material opens up for them.
Today, many of us with the available resources (read: money) do everything we can to avoid the uncomfortable struggle in aiming to reach heaven on Earth. We want the joy without the effort.
This is Naama Bay today:
I wonder what George Jr. Jr. Jr. thinks of his neighborhood now - if he's still there.
- Anthony the Great from The Sayings of the Desert Fathers. Translated by Benedicta Ward. Collegeville, Minnesota: Liturgical Press, 1984. Print. pp. 1-2
I really like the collection of sayings from the Desert Fathers, so I intend to practice writing by reflecting on as many of them as I can.
It's so easy to see the desert monastic life as tranquil, placid. Having spent a fair bit of time in the deserts of Egypt, I can tell you it must have been anything but. Not that there's anything special about an Egyptian desert (except for those vipers that hide under low scrub), but I'm reminded of a camping trip as a kid.
Six of us crammed into a Toyota sedan and drove nine hours from Cairo to a deserted beach near Sharm el Sheikh on the Red Sea coast of the Sinai Peninsula. At some point along the way the muffler fell off, and I'm pretty sure the air conditioning wasn't working either, as I have a distinct memory of feeling sand-blasted by the desert air through the open windows.
The first thing one saw upon arrival at this beach (called Naama Bay) was a sign in Arabic and English warning people to stay away. Normally, that was really good advice in such a place. Stepping into unknown areas (sometimes quite literally right off the highway) could cause rapid expiration from landmines left behind from wars with Israel. But somehow word had spread among the expatriate population that Naama Bay was safe.
After pushing the car through the sand a couple of times we arrived at our campsite and spent the next three or four days in a living hell. Why, one may ask, were we even there? Because Naama Bay was home to an extraordinary coral shelf. One could walk out about 100 yards in water three to four feet deep, then come to a drop-off down to fifteen feet or so. At this drop-off was a congregation of tropical fish so pleasant it'd put any aquarium to shame. One remarkable and reliable visitor to these parts was "George Jr.", a Humphead Wrass bigger than me by a wide margin. Legends about the whereabouts of "George Sr." were, well, legendary. The only thing certain was that "George Jr." and "George Sr." were not the same fish. In my visits to Naama Bay, I saw "Jr." at least twice, as well as a zillion varieties of triggerfish, butterflyfish, and angelfish among others. It was an aquatic paradise.
But you could only spend so much time in the water. On shore it was about 105 degrees in the heat of the day, cooling to a brisk 90ish at night. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, and not a lot of breeze either. It doesn't take much to imagine how unpleasant this weather could be while living in a sandbox for a few days, going in and out of salt water with no shower. As a bonus, one night I knocked over an open apple juice carton while sleeping and woke up with my head stuck to the floor of the tent. Oh, there was obviously no bathroom either. It was literally the second dune on the left.
This is the experience I envision a lot of Desert Fathers had. They were hot, dirty, smelly, hungry, thirsty, unshaven, and wore the same set of clothes for ages. It's no wonder they succumbed to acedia. So why did they go? Because they wanted to serve God. That ascesis, that struggle and self-denial, was the path to draw closer to God. This path led so close they were able to see the spiritual, the invisible, like we see trees or rocks or water. In my experience, the hell of getting to the beach and camping there was necessary to behold the glories in the water. For the Desert Fathers (and those that still withdraw to the lonely places in the world) the struggle in the desert aids in a devotion to God so intense that the world beyond the material opens up for them.
Today, many of us with the available resources (read: money) do everything we can to avoid the uncomfortable struggle in aiming to reach heaven on Earth. We want the joy without the effort.
This is Naama Bay today:
I wonder what George Jr. Jr. Jr. thinks of his neighborhood now - if he's still there.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
The Man Speaks
C.S. Lewis on March 21, 1944. It's the only surviving episode of his BBC radio programme.
(via archive.org)
(via archive.org)
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
A blog of my very own
So. Yeah. Blogging.
Why?
Because I need to write more. Practice. All that.
I promise to bore visitors to this corner of the Interwebs with random, relatively useless opinions and conjecture while steering clear of those pesky landmines called 'facts'. So, welcome! It'll be great. Kinda like Fox News without the ads for gold.
The topic of this first post: how disappointed I am.
I wanted the address 'beward.blogspot.com'. Unfortunately, whoever this other beward is has squandered their opportunity and sullied the rest of us bewards. I'm sure he or she is a great person and all, but a Twilight fansite in Portuguese? Really? And, dude, you haven't even posted since 2008! There oughta be a law....
Why?
Because I need to write more. Practice. All that.
I promise to bore visitors to this corner of the Interwebs with random, relatively useless opinions and conjecture while steering clear of those pesky landmines called 'facts'. So, welcome! It'll be great. Kinda like Fox News without the ads for gold.
The topic of this first post: how disappointed I am.
I wanted the address 'beward.blogspot.com'. Unfortunately, whoever this other beward is has squandered their opportunity and sullied the rest of us bewards. I'm sure he or she is a great person and all, but a Twilight fansite in Portuguese? Really? And, dude, you haven't even posted since 2008! There oughta be a law....
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