Just A Quick Story...About Love

In the midst of theology and philosophy, religious jargon and ethics, metaphysics and trinitarian ontology, there is a story. Christianity is primarily a story, a great story, a story unlike any other story. A tale twisting through history, past cultures and peoples, through mountains and valleys, in differnet languages and diallects. It is a narrative, a beautifully woven message of us; people broken, wounded, empty-headed and rebelious. To take the narrative from Christianity in order to reach the theology and religion is like tearing apart a frog in order to see how it works. In the end, it's not the wonder's of the frog's hopping, croaking, and swimming that we see, it is merely the over disected carcass; ceasing to move. Living Scripture is nothing short of this narrative of Christ-followers; and thus the gospel lives not in mere philosophy and complex and intricate termanology and logic, it lives and breaths in the stories of the saints and the undeserved forgiveness of our sorry state by Jesus Christ (after all, if forgiveness was deserved, it would no longer be forgiveness, it would be justice.)

This is a story.

George Matheson had it all. He had a beautiful fianc'e and quickly the young seminarian was become known as one of the most brilliant up-and-coming theologians out of the Scottish countryside in the mid 1800's. He was working on promising theological works and was certain to be a mover-and-shaker for the future Christian generation. And at 20 it hit him.

He went blind.

And so it began. His fianc'e left him, saying there was no possible way a woman of her stature could ever marry a blind man; she packed her bag and left him. His work was halted, for he had no possible ways to read. His theological work showed the strain on his life as many of the reviewers thought it mistake-ridden and flawed. His career as a theologian had hit a roadblock to say the least. So, weary in heart, he became a pastor of a large church. This man, who was to be the Christian leader of Scotland, now humbly preached from the pulpit. The only hope he had was the love of his sister.

It was his sister who read to him, who led him around town and cooked for him. It was his sister who listened to his troubles, who cared and nourtured him. Indeed, he openly admitted many times that without his sister and her tender-mercies and love there was no possible way he could ever do what he did. But before long she fell in love, he proposed, and they were to be married.

Matheson was crushed.

The woman who had helped him, carrying his burdans and reading late in the night, the woman who made all his did possible was leaving; for good. After nearly 15 years of having his dear sister by his side, Matheson had no one. His heart sank, aching him so deeply that he could not even attend her wedding. Moreover, it was this moment that reminded Matheson again of his fianc'e who left him, who abandoned him in his time of need. Blind. Can you imagine, completely and utterly blind. And Matheson mourned.

And the fruit of that mourning? Matheson said that in the darkness of that night, in the midst of his breaking heart came "...the quickest bit of work I had ever done in my life." He felt as if "...an inward voice was dictating to me." as his pen scribbled out his work in a few, short moments;

O Love that wilt not let me go,
I rest my weary soul in thee;
I give thee back the life I owe,
That in thine ocean depths its flow
May richer, fuller be.

O light that followest all my way,
I yield my flickering torch to thee;
My heart restores its borrowed ray,
That in thy sunshine’s blaze its day
May brighter, fairer be.

O Joy that seekest me through pain,
I cannot close my heart to thee;
I trace the rainbow through the rain,
And feel the promise is not vain,
That morn shall tearless be.

O Cross that liftest up my head,
I dare not ask to fly from thee;
I lay in dust life’s glory dead,
And from the ground there blossoms red
Life that shall endless be.

O love that will not let me go...how great a love!!! Is it possible that in our darkest and most dreer hour, we too may exclaim such love? Take encouragement, my good friends, that never, ever, ever must we worry about being left alone, homeless and hopeless. For we have such a home, a place of rest where in our Father's arms we may truly close our eyes. Be encouraged!!! Love to you all

-Blake