Edward Waters         Bard of the Grey Wind


To Daniel of Tate.

 No good done is truly unseen
or ever forgotten.

  

Preface

             The following essay is based on an address delivered in August of 2004 at Covenant Fellowship of Greensboro, North Carolina.  As its original title suggests, The Fruit of the Spirit is Meekness was but one in a series of similar talks given over the course of ten weeks by various speakers, each concerned with a different element of the familiar passage from Galatians 5.  While endeavouring to preserve its original essence and tone, I have revised the text here from a speaking style to one more suitable for the printed word, since, as Lewis rightly observes, each medium has its own best means of expression.  The title change reflects this as well in some measure, but chiefly is intended to allow a once-constituent message better to stand alone. 

             My thanks to Joel Gillespie, pastor of Covenant Fellowship, for conceiving and launching the series and for inviting me to participate.  Thanks as well to all the other contributors who faithfully and instructively handled their respective topics, in the process providing my own efforts with valuable foundation and context.

                                                                                                EGW
                                                                                                February 2005

 

INVISIBLE AS THE WIND
A Case for Meekness

By Edward Waters

There is no life for any man,
other than the same kind that Jesus has;
his disciple must live by the same absolute devotion
of his will to the Father's ...
                           GEORGE MACDONALD [1]


                                        Seeming
                                               empty space
                                        the air before me,
                                               immaterial and without force --
                                        Until an eddy stirs,
                                               unseen
                                               save in the leaves which are its sport;
                                        Until the trees themselves sway in its worship;
                                        Until the very elements
                                               of water, earth, and fire
                                               are humbled or exalted
                                               at their elder brother's whim;
                                        Until invisibility is long forgotten
                                               in the sense-absorbing image of
                                               the storm.     
 

             Have you ever considered that the wind is just as unseen in a hurricane as at any other time?  What you do see are the clouds caught up in it.  You also see dirt and seawater caught up in it.  You may even see lawn furniture, loose lumber, aluminum siding, cats and dogs and cars and trucks and overly ambitious television reporters caught up in it.  You see the effect of the wind in chaos and destruction, but you never actually see the wind itself.  And, at the time, no one with any sense will care about such distinctions!

            When I wrote the above poem [2] in 1992, I took a week or so to choose a name for it.  I finally settled on 'Apology', in the sense of 'Christian apologetics', because the piece was supposed to suggest that, like the wind, God could be invisible, yet overwhelming in His works.
            The title completely disgusted a friend of mine, however, who considered apologizing to be a sign of weakness.  If someone happened to interrupt her, step in her way, or eat the last doughnut, she thought less of him for sincerely saying, 'I'm sorry,' than for the actual slight.  I tried to explain that I was using the word differently, but she would have none of it.  For her, I had ruined a perfectly good poem with a name she could only find offensive.
            Although the issue had not been my point, I did disagree.  I have deep respect for people with courage and integrity enough to own their mistakes and express sincere regret.  It is pride, ironically -- and fiercely guarded pride especially -- which proves, in the end, ignoble and small.

OF NARROWS AND CURRENTS

            The way meanings of words change over time, however, has always interested me.  Occasionally a term of very specific reference comes to be applied more generally, but in my experience the opposite is more common:  With a kind of entropy, words of broad usage gradually grow more narrow or specialized.
            As reflected in my poem title, 'apology' long referred primarily to the philosophical defence of an idea.  Today it most often means simply an expression of regret for some insult or injury, though a hint of the original may still be seen when the 'apology' is accompanied by an attempt at rationalization. 
            A more dramatic example:  It was once possible to say 'intercourse' or 'sensual' without one's hearer assuming the reference was to sex.  Now, few people realize these ever meant anything else.  Indeed, it is remarkable how many words get drawn into that particular vortex.
            Other narrowings have been just as drastic. 
            'Awful' once meant, literally, 'full of awe' and was said of something found (as we would now put it) awe-inspiring, whether the experience was pleasant or unpleasant.  By the American Civil War, however, the unpleasant sense had begun to dominate; and, finally, it just became a synonym for 'very bad'.
            To 'worship' was originally to acknowledge the worthiness -- literally, the 'worth-ship' -- not just of God, but of any cherished person, place, or thing.
            And 'disciple' referred to anyone who followed the disciplines (of principle and of practice) taught by another who had achieved greater mastery of those teachings than had his hearers.  Remember:  John the Baptist too had disciples.
            Today, however, if I said I 'worshipped' my wife, you would probably assume I was either exaggerating or committing a form of idolatry.  And most church leaders would be alarmed if we began describing ourselves as their disciples and referring to any of them as 'master'.  The latter word now suggests rule more than expertise, so that many Christians prefer to reserve it for God alone.  Most also use 'disciple' exclusively with reference to being a follower of Christ; and one particularly awkward consequence of this is that when training new believers in the faith, we are forced to invent terms like 'discipler' or 'discipl-ee'. 

            It should come as no surprise that similar processes greatly complicate Bible translation.  If we can lose sight of our own former usage after only a few generations, imagine scholars trying to interpret Hebrew and Greek from thousands of years ago.  Just as modern English continues to evolve, so those original languages were still alive and in flux throughout the centuries in which the Scriptures were set down; and the respective currents have not always flowed alike.  To convey ideas between them reliably can be as challenging as an attempt to leap from one canoe to another in a rushing river. 

            Consider the word 'Spirit', as in 'born of the Spirit', 'walk by the Spirit', or 'the fruit of the Spirit'.  The Greek is pneuma, which can also be translated as 'wind' or 'breath'.  In John 3.8, when Christ says,

The wind blows where it wishes and you hear the sound of it, but do not know where it comes from and where it is going; so is everyone who is born of the Spirit,

the original for 'wind' and 'Spirit' are forms of the same word.
            Jesus is saying that, when one is born of the Spirit, an observer may hear what that man or woman says, and see what he or she does, yet the wisdom behind those words and deeds remain as invisible to him as the wind.  However, it could be read, 'The wind blows ... and ... so is everyone who is born of the Wind'.  John, recording the Lord's teaching, here employs a kind of holy pun to illumine the point, but its entire significance is usually lost in translation.

THE GREEK WAY TO SAY ... ?

            We run into even greater difficulty trying to understand the eighth item of a list the apostle Paul provides in Galatians 5.22-23.  With only minor variations, modern translations render this text,

... The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control ...

In Greek, the next-to-last part of the 'fruit' is prautes, a word that has no perfect correspondence in English. 
            Now, interpreting prautes as 'gentleness', and the adjective praus as 'gentle', is not exactly wrong.  Often where the New Testament writers use these, gentleness is indeed part of what they are calling for.  Yet it cannot be all, for what most people now associate with that word is already represented among the fruit of the Spirit by 'kindness'.
            Furthermore, it may actually obscure the focus of some texts in which prautes is used.  For example, just after the 'fruit' passage, modern translations have Galatians 6.1 say,

Brethren, even if anyone is caught in any trespass, you who are spiritual, restore such a one in a spirit of gentleness; looking to yourself, so that you too will not be tempted.

This sounds as if Paul is calling for gentleness toward those we must correct; but while that should be a result, it is not his main point.  If we look at the context, the surrounding discussion, we find that here Paul is primarily concerned with our own humility.  He is saying that when it is necessary for us to correct others, we must be very careful not to do so in pride or arrogance, forgetting our own sinfulness and the debt we ourselves owe to God's grace.  Thus:  '... Restore ... in a spirit of humility; looking to yourself, so that you too will not be tempted.' 

            While no one English word fits prautes perfectly, for most of its use in the New Testament I prefer a term that was favoured in older translations:  Meekness.  This, of course, has problems as well, being another of those words that has changed over time.  Once it came closer than perhaps any other to the biblical sense of prautes.  Now what it popularly conveys is almost the exact opposite. 
            So let us take a few minutes to set the record straight.

WHAT MEEKNESS IS NOT

            First:  Biblical meekness does not mean being a victim. 
            I will speak more to this later; but for now, suffice it to say that though the meek and the victim sometimes end up in similar circumstances, the meek is never there out of helplessness.

            Second:  Meekness is not affected 'humility'.  It is not pretending to be humble. 
            If you have ever tried to pay certain Christians a compliment, you know what I mean:

                        'That was a great message!'
                                    'Oh, it wasn't me.  It was the Lord!'
                        'I really enjoyed that song.'
                                    'It wasn't me.  It was the Lord!'
                        'You have a real gift for ... '
                                    'It wasn't me!  It was the Lord!'

And, do you know:  Truly, it was not them.  It was the Lord.  Still, sometimes, might not the Lord had rather they just said, 'Thank you'?
            Meekness must be sincere, or it is not biblical prautes.  Yet understand:  This does not necessarily mean it must be whole-hearted, at least at the start.  We indeed learn by doing.  We may set out with nothing more than a seed of faith, seeking to obey God, and so give up what we yet feel are our rights -- rights to recognition, to reward, to comfort, to independence, to whatever He is asking us to yield for His name's sake.  We may surrender them even while still very much wanting them, but this is not the same as pretending.
            First Peter 5.6 does not say, 'Try to be humble,' or 'Try to act humble,' or 'Try to feel humble.'  It simply says, 'Humble yourselves.' 
            Let go.

            At the same time (and this is the third point):  Biblical meekness is not always saying 'Yes'.
            During the thirteenth century a priest in Italy felt himself called to withdraw from society, become a hermit, and devote the rest of his life to solitude, work, fasting, and prayer.  Solitude proved hardest to come by, however, as people heard of his profound holiness and began gathering about him to learn from his example.  But he felt compassion for them and accepted these followers, striving to continue his devotions despite the ever-growing crowd. 
            Then one day, when he was 79, a delegation from Rome turned up at the door of his hermitage and announced that he had been elected pope!  It was the last thing he had ever expected, and even less what he wanted.  It reduced him to tears.  They declared, however, that God had revealed the choice in a vision; so the man who had felt himself called to simple holiness, took the name Celestine V, and found himself swept up into a world that proved neither simple nor holy. 
            He lasted barely five months.
            The ambitious political power-brokers in Rome had wanted someone they thought they could control, but this holy-man showed an annoying tendency to expect those who supposedly served in his government to be holy themselves.  Celestine was quite stubborn about this.  Yet he was no fighter; and when at last he realized that they could not accept the pope he was in place of the pope they wanted, he did the unprecedented:  He resigned.
            Even then, however, they would not let him leave.  Fearing their enemies might try to use Celestine against them, they placed him under house arrest.  He did manage to escape for a while, but they tracked him down; and he ended his days in a narrow room of a tower, attended by two of his followers, but rudely treated by the guards. 
            Sometimes obedience to God means knowing who you are in Him, and where you do not belong, despite what others advise.

            Fourth:  Meekness is not diplomacy, or being polite. 
            In Matthew 11.29, Jesus proclaimed, 'I am gentle [praus] and humble of heart.'  Christians justly accept as Truth this statement which would be self-contradictory from any other speaker.  Yet it must co-exist in further paradox with such accounts as that begun at Luke 11.37:  One day after Jesus had been speaking in public, a Pharisee invited him to share a meal.  The Lord accepted and followed him home.  When they were seated, however, the host wondered at this supposed rabbi's neglect of ceremonial preparation, and Christ's response was to spend the next fourteen verses preaching condemnation on everyone present!  Jesus was perfect, but He was not always the perfect dinner guest.
            As it happens, we once had a divinity student to dinner who did something like this, taking the occasion to spend an entire evening railing against us over a detail of differing conviction.  I do not recommend it.  In the end, all he convinced us of was our mistake in having invited him. 
            We are called to be imitators of Christ, but not without discernment:  Unless we have attained to our Lord's eminence of perception and purity, I doubt very much that He means us wholly to forsake courtesy any more than we are to go about publicly proclaiming ourselves humble.  When Jesus did call Himself 'gentle and humble of heart', however, it seems clear that He must have had something in mind other than good manners.

            Which perhaps relates to the fact that, finally:  Biblical meekness is not about fitting in. 
            Even with the more familiar, modern understanding of the word, it is often the meek who feel most out of step with the world around them.  As Christians, we are, by our very nature, 'out of step' with the World; and prautes, as we will see, has much to do with this.

WHAT MEEKNESS IS

            So if biblical meekness is not all these things, what is it?  What does the New Testament actually tell us about prautes and praus?
            Let me begin by summarizing some verses in which these words occur:

            Colossians 3.12 says gentleness is part of showing Love to one another.
            Matthew 5.5 says the meek can take Joy in the prospect of their inheritance.
            Matthew 11.29 says Christ's gentleness affords us Peace.
            Ephesians 4.2 says meekness helps us have Patience with each other.
            Second Timothy 2.25 says meekness prompts Kindness toward our opponents.
            James 3.13 says the meek prove their wisdom through Good Behaviour (dining with the Pharisees notwithstanding). 
            Titus 3.2 reminds us that the meek show Faithfulness to those above and consideration to all.
            Galatians 6.1, as we have discussed, urges Humility in correcting others, being mindful of our own sin.
            And James 1.21 says that, through humility, we learn Self-control in the face of temptation so that God's word may take root in our hearts.

            Obviously, we have a theme here.  What is meekness?  It is the fruit of the Spirit.  In a sense, it is all of them. 
            The Bible contains many lists.  Beyond Galatians 5, there are (to name only a few) the Beatitudes, the 'woes' against the scribes and Pharisees, several tallies of spiritual gifts, and the charge to love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength.  Perhaps because lists lend themselves so readily to lesson outlines, a great temptation for teachers is that of over-distinguishing the items of such texts to the point of imposing applications never intended by either the human authors or the Holy Spirit.  It must be remembered that the literary style of the culture through which the Scriptures were first given inclined strongly toward poetic reiteration.  Ideas were stated, restated with variations of wording or imagery, and restated yet again.  It was likely both an aesthetic taste and an aid to instruction and memory.  Distinctions did exist between elements, but the lines were intentionally blurred.
            So the individual 'fruit' of the Spirit are interdependent.  Each contains aspects of every other; and really, if we are growing in any one, we must to some degree be growing in them all.

            Near the end of Shakespeare's Henry V, after a ragtag army has won a seemingly impossible victory against overwhelming odds, their king forbids anyone to boast of this success.  Instead, he orders that prayers of praise be sung to God, including Non nobis, Domine, [3] which is the Latin for our Psalm 115.1:

            Not to us, O Lord, not to us,
            But to Your name give glory.

            Given what historians report of the real Harry's character, this may be no more than another case of affected humility.  ('It wasn't me!  It was the Lord!')  Even so, we are reminded how the proud and arrogant regularly strive to appear humble, knowing that the public tends to distrust and eventually to revolt against rulers and celebrities whose pride and arrogance become apparent.  Humility, albeit varying in definition and prescription, has been held up as a virtuous ideal in every period and culture.  It may be more often feigned than realized; it may be dismissed as impractical; and still fallen humanity senses its worth.  God's people, however, are called to more than abstract values.  Psalm 115.1 can be invoked in pretence, but its author sang in truth.

            Over the years I have come to see Christ's 'Sermon at the Mount' as rather like the '101' survey courses of first-year undergraduate study.  I believe it was designed as an overview to introduce the Lord's new disciples to what discipleship would involve.  As such, it covers a lot of territory.  What stands out to me from beginning to end, however, is its focus on the why behind the what.  The scribes and the Pharisees were obsessed with works, yet Jesus says our righteousness must surpass theirs.  That is, we still do works, but with a different spirit, and from a different sort of heart.
            He calls us to do good even when no one is around to praise us, counting it enough that God sees. 
            Also, we are not just to obey the letter of the Law, but to recognize the spirit, the intention, the mind of God behind each rule -- and, in focusing on that, sometimes to do even more than the Law requires.
            And this theme of a disciple's perception is developed further:

            Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth...
            Your reward in heaven is great...
            Store up for yourselves treasures in heaven...

            In short, we are to do what we do because we see with different eyes, looking to God, seeking His perspective, and believing His promises.  We are called to be active in this present reality because we see the truer reality beyond it.  The bumper-sticker is wrong which says, 'Some people are so heavenly minded, they're no earthly good.'  Christ tells us that anyone who is truly 'heavenly minded' can not but help being of earthly good.
            This is the heart of biblical meekness.

            Yet prautes generally avoids the limelight.  The Sherlock Holmes novel The Hound of the Baskervilles may seem an odd source to cite here; but I have always liked the way Sir Charles Baskerville was remembered by someone he had helped through a crisis:

            He was a very retiring man, and he preferred to do good by stealth. [4]

Meekness prefers to do good by stealth, perhaps because it realizes that motivations become easily corrupted when one has an audience.

            Prautes seeks no earthly reward, partly because it looks expectantly to God, and partly because it looks realistically at people.  Sometimes when we quote, 'Do unto others as you would have them do unto you,' we seem to interpret this as 'Do unto others in order that they will do likewise unto you.'  Meekness, however, does unto others knowing full well that they probably will not return the favour.

            Prautes not only sees the Reality beyond seeming reality; it often perceives details of the present world others overlook, and it may begin where others leave off.  Some people find themselves caring for those who have 'fallen through the cracks' of previous ministries.  Though perhaps having no clearer idea how to help, they are sought out precisely because they do not claim to know all the answers and thus are thought more likely to understand the struggles.

            Prautes trusts and submits to God's leading, even when it has no certainty where that may be.  Remember:

The wind blows where it wishes and you hear the sound of it, but do not know where it comes from and where it is going; so is everyone who is born of the Spirit.

K.P. Yohannan, founder and president of Gospel For Asia, has written,

A few years ago in the midst of a struggle, the Lord spoke to my heart and said, 'Be a leaf in the wind.'  He simply meant, 'I began this work and I will continue it.  Don't strive or agonize over anything.  Just let me be God ...' [5]

THE PERILS OF PERCEPTION

            Trying to live by biblical meekness does, however, come at some cost.  With remarkable consistency, the exercise of prautes tends to provoke serious misinterpretation among observers.

            In not calling attention to your works, you must sometimes stand by while others are credited with them.  Though not so bad in itself, this can leave you open to criticism for having done nothing at all.  I call it the 'Clark Kent Principle'.

            Prautes is often perceived as aimless, indifferent, irresponsible, and without a plan, for it submits to the mystery of the Spirit's leading and so many of its aims, concerns, responsibilities, and designs are hidden with God.

            Because prautes makes hard choices that can involve personal risk or self-sacrifice, it may be seen as naive, self-destructive, or victimized.  Indeed, at times its actions (or inaction) very much resemble those of a victim, and only God will know the difference.  Consider:  If you had been in Jerusalem on the day between the crucifixion and the resurrection, would you not have assumed Jesus a victim?

            Ironically, when obedience to the Lord springs from deepest humility, one may be most accused of arrogance, selfishness, and even hypocrisy.  I appreciate a line from the film Chariots of Fire:  'My "arrogance", sir, extends just as far as my conscience demands!' [6]
            This is a tricky point:  Biblical meekness will sometimes require us to refuse the expectations of others, perhaps even of those in authority.
            Do not misunderstand me. 
            Many of the passages where prautes or praus occur specifically instruct us to obey authority and defer to others.  This, however, is to be taken in balance with the apostles before the high priest, saying, 'We must obey God rather than men' (Acts 5.29); or Paul's own ambivalence toward those he terms 'reputed' authorities of the church in Jerusalem (Galatians 2).  Well-meaning Bible teachers throughout the centuries have devised ingenious ways of dismissing these and like examples; but the reality is that sometimes it will be necessary to choose between what God's appointed tell us and what we believe God Himself is telling us.  Yet we must do so carefully, prayerfully, and humbly; and never let this become an excuse for simply doing what we prefer.
            That, of course, is precisely what we will be accused of.
            It may be no random chance that Paul listed 'meekness' between the fruit of 'faithfulness' and 'self-control', for it is the task of meekness to listen to God and know when obedience means yielding and when it is standing firm.  Matthew 5.8 says, 'Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God'; and I often wonder if part of what Jesus meant was that only the pure in heart can reliably recognize God amidst countless advisers, imitators, and distractions.

            Meekness will be misjudged.  However, one of the most essential marks of meekness is a heart of compassion, rather than resentment, toward those who do misjudge (Luke 6.26 ff).  Remember the Prayer of Saint Francis:

O divine Master,
grant that I may not so much seek
to be consoled as to console;
to be understood as to understand;
to be loved as to love.

            Meekness is at odds with the motivations and logic of the World: 

... God has chosen the foolish things of the world to shame the wise, and God has chosen the weak things of the world to shame the things which are strong ... 
                                                                                                I Corinthians 1.27

And again, in John 3.8:  When one is born of the Spirit, an observer may hear what that man or woman says, and see what he or she does, yet the wisdom behind those words and deeds remain as invisible to him as the wind.

            All truth can be abused, of course.  The tragedy of church history is how often the egotistical, the ambitious, the sadistic, and the merely deranged have sought to justify themselves by attributing their actions to God.  ('It's not me!  It's the Lord!  I am but a meek and humble servant!')
            To blame God for what is not truly of God is nothing less than blasphemy.  Forget profanity; this is what it really means to take the Lord's name in vain.  If to be meek is to heed God, then meekness must never be misused as an excuse for lack of involvement where He commands involvement, for staying when He says go, or for defying authority out of mere preference or independence.  On the other hand, neither does it excuse yielding to others when God is clearly calling a different way.
            True meekness acts from obedience to the Lord, not from selfishness and not from spinelessness.  Paul's listing of the fruit of the Spirit is the culmination of a train of thought begun in Galatians 5.16 with the exhortation, 'Walk by the Spirit, and you will not carry out the desire of the flesh.'

THE WALK

            So where do we begin?

            There is a man I know whom I will call Kevin.  A few years ago, as he was downtown and just getting into his car, a homeless person called out and asked if he could spare a few dollars for some food.  When he hesitated, the fellow quickly suggested Kevin buy the food himself, to insure the money was not misspent. 
            'The sub-shop has a special on their meatball sandwich,' he said. 
            Kevin did like this idea better, so he locked his car and walked down the street with his new acquaintance, whose name, he learned, was Daniel.
            At the door of the sub-shop, however, Daniel hesitated. 
            'They don't like me to go in there,' he said.
            'You're my guest,' Kevin replied.  'What can they do?' 
            So Daniel nervously followed him in, and Kevin bought the sandwich from an equally nervous-looking cashier, then handed it to the man at his side.
            Back on the street, Daniel thanked him and asked, 'Are you a minister?' 
            'It's not how I make my living,' Kevin answered, 'but I am a Christian and I try to minister where I can.' 
            'Well, I knew you must be somethin' like that.'
            They shook hands and Kevin returned to his car.  Truth to tell, he was rather proud of himself.  Though he did clean his hand with one of the anti-bacterial wipes he kept by the front seat, it felt good to have made a connexion with someone like Daniel and to help him out.
            Kevin cranked his car and turned into the street.
            He had driven less than a block, however, when he saw another homeless person on the sidewalk, lying against a wall, so drunk or stoned he might be unconscious.  Then as Kevin watched, Daniel approached the man, squatted beside him, put at least two-thirds of the meatball sandwich on his lap, patted his shoulder, and moved on. 
            Kevin thought about this for a long time.  Eventually, he realized he had been so busy playing the part of a good man, he had completely failed to recognize when he was in the presence of a far better man.

            We begin to learn meekness when we see ourselves for who we are before God.  Psalm 131 begins,

            O Lord, my heart is not proud, nor my eyes haughty;
            Nor do I involve myself in great matters,
            Or in things too marvelous for me.

King David sang that.  Although he was king, he knew his place, and he knew to Whom he owed that place.  It was only when he forgot this for a while that he fell so tragically.
            George MacDonald wrote,

The one principle of hell is -- 'I am my own.  I am my own king and my own subject.  I am the centre ...' [7]

All the principles of Heaven, including meekness, proclaim the very opposite:  We are most emphatically not our own.  The gospels contain no fewer that six variations on Jesus's statement, 'Whoever wishes to save his life will lose it; but whoever loses His life for My sake will find it.' 

            It is often said that, the more we learn, the more we realize how little we know.  The same is true of meekness.  The holiest of men and women have always been best at seeing their own sin, and how dependent they were on grace. 
            So there is no 'quick fix'.  An acrobat on a tightrope does not achieve balance once and for all.  He must work to maintain balance from the beginning of his walk till the end.  Likewise, we as Christians must constantly seek Him who is our Centre -- talking with Him in prayer, listening to the Spirit in His word, and trusting Him enough to let go and obey.  It is only when we walk by the Spirit, step after step after step, that we can achieve and maintain meekness, and so avoid falling back into the desire of the flesh.

            Or, to put it another way:  'It's not me.  It's the Lord.'

 

Non nobis, Domine, non nobis,
sed nomini tuo da gloriam.

Not to us, O Lord, not to us,
But to Your name give glory.

 


First published in 2005 as A Windwian Book by Grey Wind from the Waters Home.  Copyright © 2005, 2010 by Edward & Cindy Waters. 


Notes:

[1] George MacDonald, 'The Creation in Christ', in Unspoken Sermons (Whitethorn, CA: Johannesen, 1999), Series III (originally published 1889), p. 424.

[2] Edward Waters, 'Apology' (Copyright © 1992).

[3] William Shakespeare, King Henry the Fifth (circa 1595), Act IV, scene 8.

[4] Arthur Conan Doyle, The Hound of the Baskervilles (1902), chapter 11.

[5] K.P. Yohannan, Send, xxiv, no. 3 (Gospel For Asia, 2004), p. 23.

[6] Chariots of Fire, Warner Brothers & The Ladd Company, 1981.

[7] MacDonald, 'Kingship', in Unspoken Sermons, Series III, p. 495.

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