Sample Chapters

Chapter 1: Introduction: A Perceptual Shift

The church of Jesus Christ has been infected with a cultural disease. While no one in the church is immune, pastors and church leaders are particularly susceptible. This infection results in a disordering of our desires, or in more ancient language, a disordering of our loves. I am not addressing lust and sexual desire, nor the greed for material gain. The inordinate desire I focus on in this book is the drive to “make a name for ourselves” (Genesis 11:4).

Some might wonder what the harm is in such a goal. Doesn’t it address our God-given desire for significance? Certainly, God created human beings to have significance. The problem lies in the source from which we seek affirmation. Subtly and unwisely, we have accepted a temporal answer to this eternal longing. Instead of discovering the fulfillment of this desire in the Lord, we are driven to find satisfaction through fame and notoriety.

The goal of making a name for oneself has reached an idolatrous status both in society and in the church. Our culture undoubtedly idolizes fame and notoriety. Most believe the cultural promise that fame can satiate our desire for significance.

In addition to the cultural fascination with fame, the desire to make a name for oneself ties into questions about our human mortality. The fear of the obscurity of death plagues us. The idol of fame promises us status beyond our limited existence. It assures us we will leave behind an enduring legacy. But like all idols, it fails to keep its promises.

I have not been immune to the cultural fascination with making a name for oneself. Since my teenage years I have dreamed of fame and notoriety. Only after wasting years chasing a goal that could never provide fulfillment, did I begin to understand that my spiritual health depends on my ability to forego this desire and accept the gift of anonymity.

The gift of anonymity? This phrase seems incongruous given our cultural fascination with fame. How could anyone speak of the graciousness of the experience of anonymity? I know this was my response when I first heard the phrase uttered. Richard Foster was being interviewed on the fortieth anniversary of Celebration of Discipline. Prior to the interview, the editor from Harper and Row described how unusual it was for them to publish an unknown author like Foster. They only published established authors, or those the editor described as “Christian celebrities.” In the interview, Foster took exception to his editor’s characterization of anyone as a Christian celebrity saying such a concept would be offensive to God. Instead of celebrity he declared, God gives “the gift of anonymity.”

This phrase caught my attention, and I lost track of the remainder of the discussion. It would dominate my thinking that night and the days to follow. During this time of reflection, I discovered how adverse I was to the idea of anonymity. I recognized how firmly I had established fame as an idol in my heart.

I admit, my initial response was cynicism. I thought, “Easy for you to say. You have seldom had to labor in anonymity. How can you know the crushing feeling of being unknown and unrecognized in a society that venerates celebrity? Can you conceive of the difficult struggle with one’s sense of self as you try to comprehend why others attain such notoriety and you are left in the desert of anonymity? Have you ever had to wrestle with the questions which arise during this internal conflict? Questions such as: ‘Have I done something wrong?’ ‘Do I lack the gifts necessary to succeed?’ ‘Is the Lord unfair?’”

The concept of anonymity as a gift struck me personally. I immediately became defensive. From the outset, I wanted to reject the idea as ridiculous. But even without my resistance, there are other significant hurdles to simply understanding, let alone accepting, anonymity as a gift.

Pushing past my barriers, I next confronted the incongruity of calling anonymity a gift in the culture, secular or Christian, that venerates fame and celebrity. Can such a state be called a gift? And if it is, why are so many who have been granted this gift so dissatisfied with it? Most people would be quite willing to abandon it for an opportunity to become famous. It must assuredly be a strange gift.

Despite my cynicism and the sense of incongruity, I was captivated by this phrase. As I reflected, connections between Foster’s concept and biblical themes became evident. Even then I resisted. Admitting anonymity is a gift would require my giving up the dream of breaking free from a life of obscurity. Internally, I argued against this train of thought, but this only drove me to deeper reflection. In this phrase, I recognized there was a truth I did not want to confront. It persistently occupied my mind. Eventually, I had to admit I had been given the gift of anonymity. The question was, would I receive it as a gift? Would I put aside my agenda and gratefully accept God’s calling? Might I even one day learn to purposefully pursue the gift of anonymity as other Christ-followers have done?

These are not just personal questions. I believe the church of Jesus Christ in its entirety must consider the implications of this God-given gift. Particularly those in leadership positions, pastors, priests, deacons, etc., must seriously consider the calling to willingly receive and even actively seek the gift of anonymity. Regardless of how counterintuitive it might seem, we must stop resisting this God-given solution to our interior angst. We need to accept this strange gift.

This is why I write. In the following, it is my intention to explain how anonymity is a gift. I will seek to demonstrate in what manner God could use this circumstance, in which so many church leaders live and minister, to be spiritually transformative. Willingly accepting this gift can serve to free us from certain debilitating errors plaguing contemporary Christianity. At the same time, freed from these cultural idols and their false promises, we can discover the only source which can genuinely satiate our desire for significance and eternal purpose, God, the giver of this gift. In the process, the Holy Spirit can use this gift to deepen our spiritual lives.

What precisely do I mean when I speak of anonymity? Basically, it means to be unknown or unacknowledged. One might think of a person giving a gift anonymously. But further, anonymity can mean to have an unknown or unrecognizable name. The implication would be that the person is considered unimportant or insignificant. While helpful, these descriptions fail to capture the relative nature of what constitutes anonymity. One person’s sense of being anonymous might be quite different from another’s. For example, I have heard commentators speak of professional basketball players “laboring in anonymity at the end of the bench.” These elite athletes are described as anonymous, because they are not the superstars whose names are recognized worldwide. Yet, we know they were some of the most well-known athletes at the universities they attended, and in their hometowns, they likely have legendary names.

The contingent nature of this term can also be observed when one talks about the pastor of a small rural church. This minister will never be as anonymous as the shy person who sits at the far end of the last pew in the sanctuary on Sunday. Yet, this pastor labors in anonymity compared to the megachurch pastor.

This second comparison captures the essence of anonymity that will govern our discussion. In this book I am addressing the vast majority of ministers who remain relatively unknown and will spend their lives serving outside of the spotlight. In such places, they labor in relative obscurity. They and their ministries will be known by few people outside their local church. Memories of them will fade quickly with a move or with death. They will never make a lasting name for themselves.

Our God, who calls us to places of obscurity, uses the circumstance of our anonymity to facilitate our transformation. If we are receptive, the Holy Spirit works to break us free from the mold of the world and renew our minds. With the Spirit’s help, our experience of anonymity can produce within us various biblical virtues, the chief of which is humility.

Humility is an essential characteristic of those who follow Christ. Jesus advises, “Anyone who wants to be first must be the very last, and the servant of all” (Mark 9:35). Assuming the lowest position and accepting the call to be servants are acts of humility. Paul repeatedly lists humility among the essential qualities of the new life in Christ (Colossians 3, Philippians 2, Ephesians 4). James declares, “Humble yourselves before the Lord, and he will lift you up,” and Peter challenges, “Humble yourselves…under God’s mighty hand.”

Humility is essential to our journey with Christ. Also, humility will prove crucial to our accepting anonymity as a gift. Thus, humility is both a by-product of, and essential to, our reception of anonymity. This quality helps us view ourselves from the proper perspective. It assists us in challenging our tendency toward self-exaltation. Further, humility rejects self-love. Rather, it is as Roberta Bondi describes, the “deep Christian attitude of the heart that could make love possible.”[1] Humility frees us to love God better. Therefore, it is described as a virtue. “The virtues are Christian patterns of seeing, feeling, and understanding as well acting that affect everything we do and everything we are…the virtues have always to do with the love of God and of neighbor.”[2] Humility is described as the chief of the virtues.[3] In humility, we recognize our dependence on God. We can do nothing without our Lord. Also, when we possess this quality, we willingly submit ourselves to God, which “allows us to see our role in the greater purposes of God’s design without feeling threatened by the achievements of others.”[4]

Allow me to offer an example of a person who illustrates anonymity in the ministry, as I understand it. George Herbert was a sixteenth century minister of the Church of England, remembered by many today for his inspirational poetry. As a young man, he was being groomed to serve in the court of the British royalty, but instead, he accepted the calling to the ministry. As his biographer writes, Herbert’s “pattern of life…led him from the center of English political and social life in London and its Houses of Parliament to rural Christian community…although he had opportunities for worldly advancement, chose instead the office of country parson.”[5]

Educated at Trinity College in Cambridge in his early thirties, he spent one year in Parliament. He soon abandoned this career, finished his ordination, and went to minister in two small rural churches seventy-five miles southwest of London. There, in relative anonymity, he ministered until his death at thirty-nine years of age. Had not one of his friends published his writings posthumously, Herbert would have passed unknown from the world. Herbert’s life might be summarized as follows, “What seems clear is that Herbert, who turned away from any chance of either secular or ecclesiastical advancement, wished to accept no credit for any achievement in his life, instead, in all things that the glory was God’s and not his own.”[6]

Herbert not only provides a picture of ministerial anonymity, he also serves as an example of one who chose the gift of anonymity. His biographers indicate the key to his ability to accept this gift was his humility. “Thus he lived, and thus he died, like a Saint, unspotted of the world, full of Alms-deeds, full of humility, and all the examples of the virtuous life.”[7] Herbert recognized the importance of humility. He wrote that he labored to “be like my Saviour, by making humility lovely in the eyes of all men, and by following the merciful and meek example of my dear Jesus.”[8]

How might we, like Herbert, come to accept Jesus’ model and follow his counsel to humble ourselves? What must we do to forgo striving for fame and come to willingly accept God’s calling to anonymity? How might we learn to recognize and receive the grace of God available to us in our place of anonymity?

These are critical questions for ministers. Many, if not most of those, who are called to pastoral ministry will find themselves in places of obscurity. The discussion in this book could apply to anyone who struggles with being anonymous in a celebrity culture. But to be clear, I am primarily writing to my fellow ministers to encourage them to receive their calling to anonymity as a gift.

For nearly two decades of my pastorate in a small northwest Indiana church averaging approximately thirty people in worship, I struggled with the burden of anonymity. By the grace of God, during the past six years, I have wrestled with God to discover the blessing of anonymity. The reflections I share herein are the fruits of this transforming struggle. To paraphrase the psalmist, the Lord has been gracious to me and blessed me with the gift of anonymity. I write that his gracious ways may be known by others who share this gift with me! (Psalm 67:1-2)

It may seem incongruous that I write about the blessings of anonymity, knowing that in doing so, I potentially will gain a measure of recognition. I did consider submitting this book anonymously but did not do so, because ultimately, anonymity is not the goal. Our goal is to submit to God’s calling, willingly and joyfully, whether it is to receive the gift of anonymity or to bear the burden of notoriety. Therefore, I share openly about the gracious work God has been doing in my heart to encourage fellow ministers to find ways to flourish in your obscurity. We will explore how to make this possible in the six parts which follow.

Part one explores the current cultural fascination with fame and how this idolatrous drive has infiltrated the church. The origin of this drive can be traced back to the Fall. As God’s image-bearers, we are naturally predisposed to seek significance and eternal significance at that. But as a result of the Fall, we have turned to transitory resources, such as fame to satisfy these deep spiritual needs. Like all idols, it fails to fulfill our longing. The situation is not hopeless. God, who is our portion and hope, assures us that we already possess meaning and significance. We are reflections of God’s glory and are promised a name which will endure forever before the Lord.

Part Two examines how something so strange and undesired can be considered a gift, an act of God’s grace. Anonymity protects us from temptations which assail those who attain fame. Also, it motivates us to seek our resources in God, who alone provides true satisfaction of our desires. Further, the biblical foundations for accepting this gift will be explored. We are commanded to follow Christ’s example by emptying ourselves and becoming servants. We must be willing to sacrifice everything, even our greatest desires, to obey our Lord. Additionally, Scripture calls us to die to ourselves. Receiving anonymity as a gift is one expression of self-mortification.

Part Three examines those things which cause us to resist receiving the gift of anonymity. The neediness of our souls and tempting thoughts called the Passions, particularly those of pride and vainglory, are internal forces enticing us to seek to become well-known. These internal forces leave us susceptible to societal messages which promise fame as the satiation of our desires and resolution for angst. We are told we should never forgo our ambitious dream of gaining notoriety. But as the Apostle Paul argues, we ought to relinquish all our ambitions other than the passionate desire to know God and his Son, Jesus Christ. Finally, we are reminded that God offers us the gift of anonymity for our good.

Part Four explores the call to renounce the drive to make a name for ourselves. We will seek guidance from an unusual group of people, the desert Fathers and Mothers. Despite their eccentricities and excesses, they have much guidance to offer related to resisting the Passions and forgoing the desire to attain notoriety. Their guidance appears perplexing, because it is foreign to those of us raised in a culture which esteems fame. If we are to receive anonymity as a gift, we must heed Paul’s command to resist conforming to the pattern of the world and allow ourselves to be transformed by the renewing of the mind.

Part five will consider four godly qualities, which if nurtured, will enable us both to recognize anonymity as a gift and to receive it as such. The most critical of these is the virtue of humility. Humility will prove foundational to acquiring the other three godly qualities. The second quality reflects Paul’s statement that he has learned to be content in whatever circumstance he finds himself. This helps us discover that which is life-giving in every situation. The final two qualities, a willing submission to God’s will and acknowledgement of a continual dependency on our Lord, prove to have a reciprocal relationship with both humility and contentment.

Part Six surveys several spiritual disciplines which enhance our receptivity to the work of the Holy Spirit which seeks to form in us the qualities of humility, contentment, submission, and dependency. The practice of these spiritual disciplines will assist us in abandoning the dream of making a name for ourselves and, therefore accept the gift of anonymity.

If you will accept the challenge to enter an exploration of this strange gift of anonymity, I pray God might help you discover the blessings awaiting you in the journey. As we begin, I encourage you to pray John Wesley’s covenant prayer.

I am no longer my own, but thine.

Put me to what thou wilt, rank me with whom thou wilt.

Put me to doing, put me to suffering.

Let me be employed for thee or laid aside for thee,

exalted for thee or brought low for thee.

Let me be full, let me be empty.

Let me have all things, let me have nothing.

I freely and heartily yield all things to thy pleasure and disposal.

And now, O glorious and blessed God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit,

thou art mine, and I am thine.

So be it.

And the covenant which I have made on earth,

let it be ratified in heaven.

Amen.[9]

If this is our prayer, we will be able to readily accept the strange gift of anonymity. [i]

Chapter 4 Fame with God: Our Glory and our Hope

So that you may become blameless and pure, “children of God without fault in a warped and crooked generation.” Then you will shine among them like stars in the sky.

Philippians 2:15

We hunger for purpose. We long for the eternal. We desire to shine like stars in the heavens. We have been designed to hunger for these very things. We have been imprinted with the image of God. It is natural for us to long to know our lives have significance and that our names will endure. The problem lies not in the desires, but how we seek to satisfy them. We attempt to fulfill theses longings through human admiration. Only God can satiate this desire. More than that, he has already done so!

Genesis declares God created human beings in His image. As image-bearers, we recognize that we possess a special place in the created order. All of humanity, and every individual, have a distinct role in God’s grand purposes for the universe. Each of us has been specially formed. God knew us in the womb. God knit us together and describes us as being “fearfully and wonderfully made” (Psalm 139:14).

Our significance is further clarified in the New Testament. Paul declares, “and we all, who with unveiled faces contemplate the Lord’s glory, are being transformed into his image with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit” (2 Corinthians 3:18). Further, he writes, “put on the new self, which is being renewed in knowledge in the image of its Creator.” (Colossians 3:10) The image, marred in the Fall, is being renewed. “Whatever was broken in the created image of God has now been restored by the incarnation of the eternal image of God. Human nature is remade, as God the Son unites it to himself in order to make it new from the inside out.”[x] We have the most unique and significant calling in all of creation. We are to reveal God’s image in our lives. Given this incredible vocation, it should not be any wonder that “we all nurse a deep, irrepressible sense that we are singularly special and destined for greatness.”[xi]

C.S. Lewis, when first contemplating the image of our glory, which as he says is prevalent in the New Testament, was put off by it. In his mind, it conveyed the idea of fame and that it placed the people who possessed it on a higher rung than other humans. He was rightly offended by this idea. When he began to study the writings of John Milton, Thomas Aquinas, and others, he was shocked to discover that these men, when writing about this glory, also speak of it in terms of fame. But then he recognized the fame they sought was not human appreciation, but “appreciation by God.” The glory these writers sought was the simple and straightforward affirmation from God, “well done you good and faithful servant.” Lewis recognized that it is the most natural thing to desire this affirmation.

I suddenly remembered that no one can enter heaven except as a child; and nothing is so obvious in a child—not in a conceited child, but in a good child—as its great and undisguised pleasure in being praised. [xii]

The glory we seek, the glory we were designed to possess from the beginning, is the affirmation of our God. What we have been seeking for is a “good report with God, acceptance by God, response, acknowledgment, and welcome into the heart of things.”[xiii] It is the door we have been knocking at all our lives.

Who of us can say we have escaped the childhood desire for approval that Lewis describes? I know much of my quest for notoriety was driven by the craving to experience the affirmation my father failed to provide. And herein lies the hope that God offers. We do not need to seek such significance. We do not have to accomplish great projects and earn the acclaim of others. What we need is to recognize the significance we already possess. God graciously bestowed this on us from the beginning.

We have significance in the present moment, but God also assures us that it will remain forever. Our hope and expectation lie in the promise that we have a name that will last eternally before God. Jesus, our victorious Lord, promises that each of us has been given “a white stone with a new name written on it, known only to the one who receives it” (Revelation 2:17). This name, Metropolitan Anthony Bloom writes, is “our true name, our eternal name exactly fits us, our whole being…it defines and expresses us perfectly. It is known by God alone and He tells us what it is.”[xiv] In God we have eternal significance!

In this hope, we need never fear that we will be like the men described by the Psalmist, “who named lands after themselves” but now lie forgotten in their tombs (Psalm 49:11). God offers something much more substantial than having a building, a street, a lake, or a whole territory named after us. Considering this hope, we should be able to willingly, even joyfully accept the transitory anonymity of the present, for the eternal significance God promises us. The assurance from God of an enduring name allows us to willingly accept the strange gift of anonymity.

But such confidence requires us to acquire a robust understanding of the nature of hope. Often, we use the word hope in a manner that is a faint approximation of what Scripture declares it to be. For example, I might say, “I hope someday to become well known.” In this case, I am using hope in the sense of optimism. Such optimism is not a bad thing. I like to think of myself as an optimistic person. I try to discover good things, even in difficult circumstances. As Miroslav Volf indicates optimism is not hope as it is described in Scripture, “Hope, unlike optimism, is independent of people’s circumstances. Hope is not based on the possibilities of the situation and on correct extrapolation about the future. Hope is grounded in the faithfulness of God and therefore on the effectiveness of God’s promises.”[xv]

Optimism is situational and based on transient considerations. Whereas, hope is founded on the promises of Scripture and the eternal faithfulness of God. Optimism is fleeting; hope endures. This is beautifully illustrated in J.R.R. Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings. The two main characters, Frodo and Samwise, are journeying in the evil land of Mordor. They are in despair, filled with fear, starving, wracked by thirst, and before their eyes, nothing but darkness. Death surrounds them. One night, Sam, while on guard duty, watched anxiously until he looked up.

There, peeping among the cloud-wrack above a dark tower high up in the mountains, Sam saw a white star twinkle for a while. The beauty of it smote his heart, as he looked up out of the forsaken land, and hope returned to him. For like a shaft, clear and cold, the thought pierced him that in the end, the Shadow was only a small and passing thing: there was light and high beauty forever beyond its reach.[xvi]

When Sam gazed at the star from his dire circumstance in Mordor, it was not optimism he felt. He did not discover some fleeting encouragement to help him complete the quest. Rather, he looked beyond his current situation and found hope in that which could not be touched by the darkness which surrounded him.

At best, our desire to make a name for ourselves reflects a level of optimism. But our hope lies in the fact that we can rest secure in the promise that our name will endure before the Lord. Let me repeat, this longing for enduring significance reflects a God-given desire. It is the sense of the eternal God embedded in our hearts. But so often we accept a bland transitory substitute for the soul-satisfying gift God offers. “It would seem that Our Lord finds our desires not too strong, but too weak…[xvii]

May we no longer accept these poor approximations of the glorious gifts our Lord desires to give us. Let us rest confident in God-given hope, rather than cling to mere human optimism. May we not be enthralled by the pursuit of the fleeting and transitory affirmation of human beings, but rather live with confident assurance that we already possess an enduring name before God. Such assurance will allow us to willingly accept the gift of anonymity. As the author of Hebrews indicates, hope in the promises of God can be “an anchor for the soul, firm and secure.” (Hebrews 6:19).

Isaiah declares that “those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength” (Isaiah 40:31). Hope anchors us. Hope sustains us. And the hope God offers endures. Paul declares there are three things that will remain, faith, HOPE, and love (1 Corinthians 13:13). Hope can sustain us in any circumstance. The prophet Jeremiah reveals the enduring power of hope in the middle of his heart-rending lament over the fall of Jerusalem.

I remember my affliction and my wandering,
the bitterness and the gall.
I well remember them,
and my soul is downcast within me.
Yet this I call to mind
and therefore I have hope:

Because of the Lord’s great love, we are not consumed,
for his compassions never fail.
They are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.
I say to myself, “The Lord is my portion;
therefore I will wait for him.”

The Lord is good to those whose hope is in him,
to the one who seeks him; (Lamentations 3:19-25)

Possessing such a full-bodied conception of hope will allow us to willingly accept any circumstance, even a life lived in anonymity. “So let’s look away from the circumstances that confront us, look to Christ, look to the promises, and hold fast to them. Hope comes from the promises of God rooted in the work of Christ.”[xviii] Or as the author of the book of Hebrews encourages, “let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess,” because “the one who promised is faithful” (Hebrews 10:23).

We can trust that “our help is in the name of the Lord” (Psalm 124:8a). God will satisfy our hunger for meaning. Yahweh promises, “‘As the new heavens and the new earth that I make will endure before me’ declares the Lord, ‘so will your name…’” (Isaiah 66:22). The verb “to make” is the same one used to describe God’s creative work in Genesis. The creative power which brought the universe into existence will make our name endure. Talk about the assurance of continued existence and significance!

Returning to the beautiful passage in Lamentations I would draw your attention to one other phrase, “God is our portion.” Our Lord gives us purpose. “We are for the praise of his glory” (Ephesians 1:12). God also provides us a name which will endure. God gives us meaning and significance for the present and for eternity. And even more significantly, God gives himself to us. God is our inheritance.

We discover this promise, “God is our portion,” scattered throughout the Old Testament writings. The Psalmist declares “My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.” The Levites, who did not share an inheritance of the other Jewish tribes, were told by Yahweh, “I am your portion and your inheritance.”[2] Yahweh gives Yahweh to the people of promise. “The man who has God for his treasure has all things in One.”[xix]

The significance of this promise is illustrated in Psalm 73. Asaph, the purported author, describes his awakening to this life-transforming reality. He begins by describing his feelings of disillusionment with God. Frustrated, he declares, “my feet had almost slipped…I envied the arrogant…surely in vain I have kept my heart pure…” He was deeply troubled. But just when it seems he is going to give in to his cynicism, the Psalm takes a sudden turn. His tone changes drastically. He begins to speak with confident trust in the Lord’s methods. The transformed attitude arose with the recognition that God is always with him (Psalm 73:23). This revelation leads to his declaration of God’s sufficiency. “Whom have we in heaven but you, and earth has nothing I desire besides you…God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever” (Psalm 73:5-6). God is our inheritance! What else could we possibly need? “God, of your goodness, give me yourself, for you are enough for me…only in you do I have everything.”[xx]

God infused us with meaning at creation. God promises us a name which will endure eternally. God is our promised inheritance. What more could we ask from him? It is within this reality that fame and celebrity are so insignificant. It is in light of the hope these promises offer, that we can live without the need of human affirmation. We can willingly accept the strange gift of anonymity. “Gone then will be all anxiety as to what his neighbor may think about him. It is enough God thinks about him. To be something to God-is that not praise enough?”[xxi] God supplies all we need in Christ. “And my God will meet all your needs according to the riches of his glory in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 4:19).

 

 

[i] Let me be clear. The issue here is not whether one attains fame or notoriety. Obviously, God has chosen some of his servants to have a long-term impact on the world. Many of these understood their achievements were for the glory of God, the good of the church, and not for their own benefit. The concern lies in one’s motivation. If we, the anonymous or the well-known, have established the goal of making a name for ourselves, then like the men of Babel, we have fallen prey to an idol.

[2] See also Psalm 16:5,119:57, Jeremiah 10:16, 51:19, Lamentations 3:24

[1] Bondi, Roberta C. To Love as God Loves. (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1987), 42.

[2] Bondi, Roberta C. To Pray and to Love.. (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1991), 39.

[3] Bondi, To love as God loves, 104.

[4] Foster, Richard and Gayle D. Beebe Longing for God: Seven Paths of Christian Devotion. (Downers Grove, IL, InterVarsity Press, 2009), 60

[5] Wall, John N. ed George Herbert: The Country Parson, the Temple. Western Spiritual Classics (New York: Paulist Press, 1981), 2

[6] Ibid, 6,

[7] Walton, Izaac, The Life of Rev. George Herbert (Boston: James B. Dow Publisher, 1842), 58.

[8] Ibid, 28

[9] United Methodist Hymnal (Nashville TN: The United Methodist Publishing House 3rd edition, 1989), #607

 

[x] Boyer, Steven D. and Christopher A. Hall, The Mystery of God: Theology of Knowing the Unknowable (Grand Rapids MI.: Baker Publishing Group, 2012),79

[xi] Rolheiser, Wrestling with God, 26

[xii] C. S. Lewis, “Weight of Glory” Preached originally as a sermon in the Church of St Mary the Virgin, Oxford, on June 8, 1942: https://www.wheelersburg.net/Downloads/Lewis%20Glory.pdf

[xiii] Ibid,

[xiv] Bloom, Anthony Metropolitan of Sourozh, Courage to Pray. (London: Darton, Longman, and Todd Ltd., 1973) 9

[xv] Volf, Miroslav Against the Tide. (Grand Rapids MI.: William B. Eerdmanns Publishing, 2010), 45

[xvi] Tolkien, J. R. R. The Lord of the Rings: Return of the King (New York: Ballentine Book, 1979), 244.

[xvii] Lewis, “Weight of Glory”

[xviii] Piper Piper, John. https://www.desiringgod.org/interviews/what-is-so-important-about-christian-hope

[xix] Tozer, A. W., The Pursuit of God. (Alberta: Horizon House Publishers, Alberta 1976), 20

[xx] Julian of Norwich. Showings: The Classics of Western Spirituality. (Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press, 1978) 184

[xxi] McDonald, George. Creation in Christ. (Wheaton Il: Harold Shaw Publishers, 1976), 240.