I was away for a while and I missed my foraging through the part of the world were honesty is at home.
Living there is, among others, Harold Knight about whom I wrote some time ago. I (re)discovered his talent to bring out the peace and joy which only this (practicing of) honesty can wake up in one’s soul.
Here are some excerpts from Dwellers in time and space
Anglicans throughout the English speaking world know the hymn “Praise, my soul, the king of heaven” by Henry Francis Lyte (1793-1857)—sung to a quintessentially Victorian tune by John Goss (1800-1880). This text is based on Psalm 103. The poem’s first stanza reads
Praise, my soul, the King of heaven,
To his feet thy tribute bring:
Ransomed, healed, restored, forgiven,
Who, like me, his praise should sing?
Alleluia! Alleluia! Praise the everlasting King.
Other stanzas tell us that
Fatherlike, he tends and spares us,
Well our feeble frame he knows,
In his hands he gently bears us. . .
. . . sun and moon, bow down before him,
Dwellers all in time and space. . .
Only in make-believe, however, is dwelling in time and space “a walk in the park.”
Many people I know who’ve had devastating illnesses have been transformed. They know something about dwelling in time and space. In that dangerous wilderness they have discovered themselves
. . . to be no longer alone. In the wilderness [they] meet other wizened souls who have weathered sun and heat, all of them healed of the same wound. There is a wildness in their eyes. They don’t give a damn for things they used to find so terribly important. Hardly fit for polite company, they nonetheless love with a fierceness echoing the land through which they have passed. The [wilderness] has taught them well. They are what [dwellers in time and space have] been summoned to be. . . broken people, painfully honest. . . rid of the pretense and suffocating niceness to which [we are prone]” (2).
There is life after singing hymns and praising the Lord. Only the life then is a walk in the wilderness with the bravery of a child.