Imagination

  We all have a general and sufficient idea of imagination, and of its work with our hands and in our hearts: we understand it, I suppose, as the imaging or picturing of new things in our thoughts; and we always show an involuntary respect for this power, wherever we can recognize it, acknowledging it to be a greater power than manipulation, or calculation, or observation, or any other human faculty. For example; if we see an old woman spinning at the fireside, and distributing her thread dexterously from the distaff, we respect her for her manipulation – if we ask her how much she expects to make in a year, and she answers quickly, we respect her for her calculation – if she is watching at the same time that none of her grandchildren fall into the fire, we respect her for her observation – yet for all this she may still be a commonplace old woman enough. But if she is all the time telling her grandchildren a fairy tale out of her head, we praise her for her imagination, and say, she must be a rather remarkable old woman.” John Ruskin.

In the following piece, Ruskin is critiquing the art of the world and how little is devoted to inspirational venues.

How far beneath these two ranks of men shall we place, in the scale of being, those whose pleasure is only in sin or in suffering; who habitually contemplate humanity in poverty or decrepitude, fury or sensuality; whose works are either temptations to its weakness, or triumphs over its ruin, and recognize no other subjects for thought or admiration than the subtlety of the robber, the rage of the soldier, or the joy of the person devoted only to luxury or pleasure. It seems strange, when thus definitely stated, that such a school should exist. Yet consider for a moment what gaps and blanks would disfigure our gallery and chamber walls, in places that we have long approached with reverence, if every picture, every statue, were removed from them, of which the subject was either the vice or the misery of mankind, portrayed without any moral purpose: consider the innumerable groups having reference merely to various forms of passion, low or high, drunken revels and brawls among peasants, gambling or fighting scenes among soldiers, illicit love affairs and intrigues among every class, brutal battle-pieces, outlaws, gluts of torture and death in famine, wreck, or slaughter, for the sake merely of the excitement, -- that quickening and easy influence of the dull spirit that cannot be gained for it but by bathing it in blood, afterward to wither back into stained and stiffened apathy; and then that whole vast false heaven of sensual passion, full of nymphs, satyrs, graces, goddesses, and I know not what, from its high seventh circle in Correggio’s Antiope, down to the Grecized ballet dancers and smirking Cupids of the Parisian upholsterer. Sweep away all this, remorselessly, and see how much art we should have left.” John Ruskin, painting of Jupiter and Antiope. 

 When I read the quote below, I couldn’t apply it or much understand it; but after a conversation with a brother it dawned on me the author is talking about the small but frequent bits of reading, conversation, sermon or influence that we build our walk with God upon. “Line upon line and precept upon precept.” We will not reach the finish line fueled by one sermon, nor will we find perfection in a year of Bible study or reading; but rather, each inspiring word helps us on, and with the accumulation of them over time we make noticeable headway. We grow spiritually about as quickly as we build muscles or gain height, much like the growth of an oak. Each little star of inspiration, or as the author calls them, “probable inducements,” moves us an almost imperceptible measure towards the goal. 

  “Probable arguments are like little stars, every one of which will be useless as to our conduct and enlightening; but when they are tied together by order and vicinity, by the finger of God and the hand of an angel, they make a constellation, and are not only powerful in their influence, but like a bright angel, to guide and to enlighten our way. And although the light is not great as the light of the sun or moon, yet mariners sail by their light; and though with trepidation and some danger, yet very regularly they enter into the harbor. This heap of probable inducements is not like the power of a  mathematical and physical demonstration, which is in discourse as the sun is in heaven, but it makes a milky and a white path, visible enough to walk securely.” Jeremy Taylor

  I’ve been reading John Ruskin’s book Precious Thoughts and just love so much of it. In a chapter titled The Earth Veil he describes how God prepared the surface of the earth for the welfare of man, contrasted to the depths of the earth that are inanimate and passive for the most part. Here he contrasts the two, and his description of the surface of the earth is so poetic.

 "The earth in its depths must remain dead and cold, incapable except of slow crystalline change; but at its surface, which human beings look upon and deal with, it ministers to them throughout a veil of strange intermediate being; which breathes, but has no voice; moves, but cannot leave its appointed place; passes through life without consciousness, to death without bitterness; wears the beauty of youth without its passion; and declines to the weakness of age, without its regret."

Fear of God

The following piece by Phillips Brooks gives insight into what it means to fear God in a way which I think is as close to the truth as anything I've read.

 “The secret of the Lord is with them that fear him.’ Ps. 25:14

 Every living thing which is really worth the knowing has a secret in it which can be known only by a few. The forms and methods of things lie open to whoever chooses to study them, but the essential lives of things are hidden away where some special sympathy or concern must find them. We can all tell how true this is with people. A careful study of the outside of a man will tell you many things but all such shrewd and careful watching will not tell you those things which we all hold back, reserved for only a few. We are deeper than our actions reveal. For example, we know the outside of a hundred houses in town, but only our own house and two or three others do we know the inner chambers and private rooms.

The greater the person is the more open and honest he will appear on the outside and the more secret is the secret of his life. Now whether we can discover the secret of life in others or not, we are aware of our own. We all know how little other people know about us. Others do not know the mainspring and the master motives that make us who we are; our purpose, spirit and intentions as well as our past experiences not many know, and we fully open our hearts to only a few.

What is necessary before one will let another read their secrets, their motives, or shall we sum it up and say the genius or our lives? It is not mere curiosity; we know how that shuts up the nature which it tries to read. Not mere awkward good-will, that too crushes the flower which it tries to examine. What is it? I think the first and foremost of them all is respect. We will not share the real secrets of our lives, the spring and power of our living to anyone who does not respect us.

No friendship, no kindliness can make you show it to them unless they truly see us as a serious, almost sacred thing. You must think there is something deep in nature or you will find nothing there. You must have an awe of the mystery and sacredness in your fellow-man or his mystery and sacredness will escape you.

Now this sense of mystery and sacredness is what we gather into that word fear referred to in the text.

It is that feeling with which you step across the threshold of a great deserted temple or into some vast dark mysterious cavern. It is not terror: that would make you turn and run away. Terror is a blinding and deafening emotion. Terror shuts up our ability to know and understand.  You do not get at the secret of anything which frightens you, but fear, as we use it now, is quite a different emotion. It is a large, deep sense of the majesty and importance of anything, a reverence and respect for it. Without that no man can understand another, much less God.

As we approach God with a deep sense of His majesty, His mystery, His awesome power, we will see His secrets. It sees the love, which is behind every commandment, and His one purpose, which He has concerning us: to draw us towards and shape us into His likeness. The making of man like Himself by the power of love, that, in one word, is the purpose of God, which is the secret of the Lord!