In the Beginning Was the Word

What is the longest word in the English language? It is not antidisestablishmentarianism! It is, as the Oxford mathematician John C. Lennox likes to say, the 3.5 billion-lettered word in DNA (deoxyribonucleic acid) in every human cell! A word in the human cell? Scientists are wrestling with the idea “that information and intelligence are fundamental to the existence of the universe and life.…”[1] But from where has this information come? How did words get inscribed in DNA? Philosopher of science Stephen Myer calls it the “DNA enigma.”[2] Where did the four-character digital code stored in DNA come from?

And you may be wondering: What does this have to do with Advent? Think of the intriguing connection with the Christmas text of John 1: 1, 3: “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God… All things came into being through Him, and apart from Him nothing came into being that has come into being.” Consider this in tandem with the text of Hebrews 11:3, “The world was created by the word of God.”

The discovery of information in the cell in our lifetime is fascinating. In 1953, Crick and Watson demonstrated the structure of DNA. DNA consists of parallel strings, a double helix. These parallel strings are connected like a twisting ladder with rungs that are chemical words. These chemical words function like digital characters in a computer software section. Bill Gates says, “DNA is like a computer program.” These chemical words are arranged to convey particular information. I can arrange letters: tttooooeernb; or I can rearrange them: “To be or not to be.” So, depending on how they are arranged, these DNA strings give instructions for making the parts to build tiny machines in each cell.

Within the cell, extremely sophisticated exchanges of information occur. DNA strings instruct these cell machines to haul cargo; turn on and off cellular switches, and wait for another machine to arrive. At the end of the day, the arrangement of the chemical words of the DNA strands and their instructions contribute to the difference between Samson, Henry VIII, and Marilyn Monroe, The “DNA enigma”! From where do the different words, the genetic instructions, come?

Is it chance? Science journalist Clifford Longley writes that saying it’s random chance is like thinking Shakespeare’s works could be written by a billion monkeys sitting at a billion keyboards typing for a billion years. The monkey argument was put to the test in 2003 in Plymouth, England. Some museum curators put typewriters in the cage of some macaque monkeys. The best they could get out of them, before they “did their business” on the typewriters, was to repeat the ‘S’ key. There simply is not enough time in the history of the cosmos for chance to formulate complex cellular messages.

How about random mutation and “natural selection”? There is not enough time in the history of the universe for random mutation and natural selection to locate extremely rare genetic sequences of chemical words capable of building cellular machines. Stephen Meyer compares it to a bike thief trying to pick a bike lock with 10 dials. The thief would have to search through 10 billion possible combinations to unlock it. Devoting a lifetime to unlocking the bike lock would prove fruitless. There has not been enough time since the origin of the universe for random mutation and natural selection to construct even a single gene.

From where do genetic instructions come? Was it quantum tunneling? Can the possible existence of an infinite number of universes explain it? No matter which of materialism’s and naturalism’s arguments, they come up short for the same reason. They cannot adequately explain how new genetic, biological information necessary to produce new biological life-forms arose from nothing.

There is a better argument. This argument assumes letters arranged in intelligent sequences of meaning imply a sentient mind. Ink and paper do not produce the Oxford English Dictionary. Egyptian hieroglyphics, Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet, or Microsoft Office; they come from conscious, mental activity. In our human experience, information is always a product of an intelligent mind. Moreover, not only does mind produce the information, but it also guides and orders information’s selection to an ultimate, purposeful, and moral end. How is this achieved? Where is the power to accomplish such an end?

Might the scientific discoveries of cellular words lead us back to Genesis and John? God in his creative act speaks his word issuing information. “Then God said, ‘Let there be light’.” When Francis Collins stood next to the President and announced the decoding of the human genome, he said, “This is the language of God.” The Word who speaks has informed each living cell. Furthermore, he has the power to direct the information to a purposeful and moral end: “And there was light.” As Hebrews 11:3 says, “The world was created by the word of God.” Before mass-energy was, “in the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God … all things came into being through Him, and apart from Him nothing came into being that has come into being” (John 1:14).

This is absolutely stunning! We celebrate this Advent the Word which not only dwells in the constitution of every human cell, but who himself became “flesh” and seeks to dwell in every human heart!

[1] John C. Lennox, God’s Undertaker: Has Science Buried God? (Oxford: Lion Hudson, plc, 2007), 167.

[2] Stephen C. Meyer’s recent book is the major resource for this article; see Stephen Meyer, The Return of the God Hypothesis: Three Scientific Discoveries that Reveal the Mind Behind the Universe (Harper One).

A Word from St. Nicholas

Jaroslav Čermák (1831 - 1878) - Sv. Mikuláš

May I share with you what’s on my heart? I’m carrying a load on my shoulders. It’s about Christmas and me. I’ve been around a long, long time --- centuries in fact. I must tell you the truth. I’m not the same man I used to be. I’ve changed. When you see me today in a store, at the mall, or in a parade, you’re seeing a different man. I’m afraid some have gotten the wrong impression of me.

In the beginning I wore a bishop’s robe. I was tall and thin then. As centuries have rolled by, I’ve put on weight and rolled with them. Jenny Craig, ‘Weight-watchers’ and the Keto diet weren’t around. Since the nineteenth century, I’ve been a round and jolly fellow. I’ve had to get new, red breeches and a fur stocking cap; my cheeks are like cherries; and, yes, I still have a twinkle in my eye; but my age is telling on me. Look, my long hair and beard are white!

May I be honest with you? It really scares me to think to what proportions I’ve grown. This is just it. Too many boys and girls think that I am Christmas. They’ve put me at the center of their Christmas: I’m the one to whom boys and girls make requests; I’m the one they wait on at five minutes to midnight; and I’m the one they look to give them what they want.

Am I really? No, no, my goodness, no!!  Let me tell you who I really am. People call me St. Nicholas, and so I am. But, please, let me tell you about the real me, the real St. Nicholas.

Sixteen hundred years ago, in the fourth century to be exact, I impressed people. Here’s how it began. One day, I should say, one, crisp winter night, I saw something very clearly in my mind. I understood whom Christmas is really about:  Christmas is about Jesus Christ.  I saw Jesus had given me a gift: He came in the flesh; lived a miraculous life; died on a cross and rose from the dead. All to forgive my sin and reconcile God and me! 

This meant the gift of Life and salvation to me! Even me! He gave it long before I ever knew him. Finally, I received that Gift and owned it for myself. Have you? Things began to happen inside me. One thing that changed was the burden I felt for the poor, the sick, and the suffering. There were great needs in my town of Myrna (Turkey). As my parent’s had left me great wealth, I decided to return it to Jesus Christ. I gave gifts and presents to those with hardships.

Since I was Myrna’s bishop, I knew I had to give secretly. If I didn’t, people knew me and would think I was showing off. Also, I didn’t want people to know who was giving them gifts. I might embarrass them. So, I began giving my gifts out secretly at night.  While people slept, I left gifts on their doorsteps.

I remember one poor man with three daughters. The girls were coming to a marriageable age. In those days, a young woman's father had to offer prospective husbands something of value —a dowry – to go along with his daughter. The larger the dowry, the better the chance a young woman had to attract a good husband. Without a dowry, a woman was unlikely to marry. I feared for this poor man's three daughters. He didn’t have the money for one dowry, much less three.  Without dowries, his daughters would probably be sold into slavery, or prostitution.

So, secretly, on three different occasions, I tossed bags of gold through the poor man’s open window. I later heard the gold landed in the girls’ stockings; some clanged into their shoes left by the fire to dry. This is where your custom comes from of children hanging stockings on the fireplace mantle.

Somehow, just what I feared happened. The word got around: ‘The Bishop of Myrna goes out at night and gives presents to people.’  People started calling me ‘Saint Nicholas’.  When the Dutch Americans tried to say my name, Sinterklaas, it came out ‘Santa Claus’ rather than ‘St. Nicholas’.

What I’m trying to say is I am not Christmas! Jesus Christ is Christmas! I’m a servant of Christmas.  I’m the result of Christmas. Christmas doesn’t come because I bring gifts. I bring gifts because Christmas has come. If it had not been for Jesus Christ, I would not be here.  He is Christmas. He is the First Gift. He is the One to whom we make our requests. He is the One who fulfills our desires. He is the One for whose coming we wait with hushed breath.

This Christmas Eve, I will be bringing gifts. But please, remember, the Gift you most want is the Gift of Gifts, Jesus Christ. Ask for Him. Receive Him. Believe Him. Adore Him - if you have not. You too will be giving secret gifts to those with needs. ‘Ho, Ho, Ho, happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night’!

---

Tom is currently a retired Elder in the Virginia Annual Conference. He has pastored churches in Virginia, California and England. Studying John Wesley’s theology, he received his Ph.D. and M.A. degrees from the University of Bristol, Bristol, England and his Master of Divinity degree from Asbury Theological Seminary. While a student, he and his wife Pam lived in John Wesley’s Chapel “The New Room”, Bristol, England, the first established Methodist preaching house. Tom was a faculty member of Asbury Theological Seminary. He has contributed articles to Methodist History and the Wesleyan Theological Journal. He and his wife have two children, daughter Karissa, who is an attorney in Richmond, Virginia, and, John, who is a recent graduate of Regent University. Being a part of the development of their grandson Beau is a rich reward. Tom enjoys a good book by a crackling fire with an English cup of tea. His life text is, ‘Jesus, confirm my heart’s desire, to work and speak and think for thee’.

The Incarnation's Appeal to Humility (Part 2)

Introduction 

In the last entry, we discussed how Christ’s incarnation, as noted by the early hymn of Philippians 2, appeals to the importance of humility. With the humble model that Christ provided, the believer should follow suit if he or she is truly a Christ-follower. The first half investigated the humble authority and humble assistance (i.e., his willingness to serve others). The second half of our series examines two additional truths that permeate through the humility of Christ’s incarnation. The last two points relate to the importance that faith, or trust, in God has on one’s humble state.

The Incarnation’s Appeal to Humble Acceptance (Phil. 2:8)

Humble acceptance of our state is probably among the most difficult of the virtues listed in this article. The hymn notes that Christ “humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death—even to death on a cross” (Phil. 2:8). Christ’s obedient actions correlate with the prayer he encouraged his disciples to pray, saying, “Your kingdom come. Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven” (Matt. 6:10). Christ realized that the Father’s mission would send him to the cross, and Christ was obedient to accomplish the Father’s will. Reread the last sentence. Contrast this with the muscled-up celebrity pastor who wears flashy apparel and don teeth that are unnaturally white. More to the point, compare Christ’s life to the message being purported by celebrity pastors. Often, they say that God wants you to live your best life, wants you to have a life free from trouble, and that any form of sickness or trial derives from a lack of faith. Is it just me or does this completely contradict the humble lifestyle of Jesus? This is not even a minor interpretive issue. The life of Jesus thoroughly exhibited humility and his messages, particularly the Sermon on the Mount, taught others to live in like manner. If one accepts the validity of messianic prophecy as I do, then it was even prophesied that Jesus would live in such a manner in the Suffering Servant motif of Isaiah 53. Jesus was willing to obey the Father, no matter what the Father’s plan demanded. The flashy, muscular, me-centered Christianity often asserted by the fashionable speakers of our age is quite foreign to the life and teachings of Jesus of Nazareth.

The Incarnation’s Appeal to Humble Assurance (Phil. 2:9–11)

The hymn concludes with a point of great optimism and assurance. The humble life of Jesus would be rewarded. All was not in vain. The hymn declares that Christ …

“humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death—even to death on a cross. For this reason God highly exalted him and gave him the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee will bow—in heaven and on earth and under the earth—and every tongue will confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, the to glory of God the Father” (Phil. 2:9–11).

As my preacher friends would say, “That will preach!” The first sentence of the stanza ends with Christ’s death on the cross. The next line begins with Christ’s exuberant victory! While space is unavailable to discuss all the nuances and exhilarating details of this passage, suffice it to say, Christ’s humility led to his glorification through the Father’s promises. Does this mean that we should be humble simply to find a reward in heaven? Certainly not. Humility should come from our acknowledgment of God’s glory and our dependence upon him. However, Christ does promise that “everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and the one who humbles himself will be exalted” (Luke 14:11). Ultimately, rather than living for an eternal reward, what is called for is faith in God’s promises. It may be that we will not see the fullness of our work until we reach God’s throne. However, if we trust in God’s promises, we know that the blessings he provides us in eternity will far outweigh any temporary afflictions that we may endure. Paul understood this concept, writing, “For our momentary light affliction is producing for us an absolutely incomparable eternal weight of glory” (2 Cor. 4:17).

Conclusion

This exploration leaves me with a haunting question: If Jesus were to come today, would we recognize him? Would we desire to follow him, particularly with his message, which often contradicts the individualistic, aggrandized, glorification of the self? I am often left to wonder if we have sold the soul of Christianity to create altars for ourselves. To bring a resurgence of authentic Christianity, each of Christ’s followers needs to take time to reflect on the biblical portrayal of Christ. During this Advent season, we have an opportunity to reflect on the life and ministry of Christ. Many churches will hold special services, lighting of the candles, plays, and cantatas. As you participate in these services, allow the Spirit of God to guide you in such a reflection period. Maybe Advent would be a good time to push away social media to spend time with God in his Word. Additionally, consider reading books on the incarnation of Christ. One good resource to consider is Athanasius’s On the Incarnation of the Word of God which can be found online.[1] This Christmas season, stay humble my friends, and keep the faith.

---

Brian G. Chilton is the founder of BellatorChristi.com, the host of The Bellator Christi Podcast, and the author of the Layman’s Manual on Christian Apologetics. Brian is a Ph.D. Candidate of the Theology and Apologetics program at Liberty University. He received his Master of Divinity in Theology from Liberty University (with high distinction); his Bachelor of Science in Religious Studies and Philosophy from Gardner-Webb University (with honors); and received certification in Christian Apologetics from Biola University. Brian is a member of the Evangelical Theological Society and the Evangelical Philosophical Society. Brian has served in pastoral ministry for nearly 20 years and currently serves as a clinical chaplain.

https://www.amazon.com/Laymans-Manual-Christian-Apologetics-Essentials/dp/1532697104

© 2021. MoralApologetics.com.

[1] See Athanasius of Alexandria, On the Incarnation of the Word of God, in Philip Schaff and Henry Wace, eds, Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, 2nd series, Archibald Robertson, trans (Buffalo, NY: Christian Literature, 1892), https://www.newadvent.org/fathers/2802.htm.

The Incarnation's Appeal to Humility

Humility seems to be a lost spiritual discipline these days. If not completely lost, it is not practiced that often. Fast-talking, foul-mouthed, egocentric personalities seem to be elevated to the point of heroic status, possibly because those individuals are representative of those who take little flak from anyone or anything. Arguably, the antihero has risen to the status of the American ideal. But does this represent the nature of the One whose birth we celebrate every December 25th?

From the time of Thanksgiving until Christmas, the church enters the phase of the liturgical calendar called Advent. This is a time of preparation for Christmas when the birth of Christ is celebrated. Much ink has been spilled concerning the correct dating of Jesus’s birth.[1] Are we celebrating the correct date of Jesus’s birth, or should we celebrate in the spring or fall? To be honest, the older I get, the less importance I see in pinning down the exact date of Jesus’s birth, outside of academic interest alone. While theories abound, it may be impossible to know with any degree of certainty what the precise date of Jesus’s birth is.

The more important issue is to take time each year to contemplate the birth of Jesus and what it means for the Christian faith. In AD 335, Athanasius of Alexandria penned one of his most famed and endearing works entitled On the Incarnation of the Word of God. In his work, Athanasius writes, “For He became Man that we might be made God: and He manifested Himself through the body that we might take cognizance of the invisible Father: and He underwent insult at the hands of men that we might inherit immortality.”[2] Athanasius points to the humility of Christ as exhibited by the sacrifice that he would ultimately make.

The most remarkable aspect of Christ’s incarnation is that he left a state of perfect bliss to enjoin himself with humanity. Philippians 2:6–11 is an amazing passage of Scripture. Most likely, it is an early Christian hymn that predates the New Testament writings. The hymn makes the connection of Christ’s humility as exhibited through his incarnation. Before citing the hymn, Paul teaches that believers should “Adopt the same attitude as that of Christ Jesus” (Phil. 2:5).[3] What can we learn about humility from Christ’s incarnation? I argue that we can learn four spiritual principles from the humility in Christ’s incarnation. The first article will examine the first two, whereas the second will peer into the last set.

The Incarnation’s Appeal to Humble Authority (Phil. 2:6)

The hymn begins by noting that Christ, “who, existing in the form of God, did not consider equality with God as something to be exploited” (Phil. 2:6). The term aJpagmo;n (hapagmon), translated “exploited,” indicates something that is not held on to forcibly.”[4] The Moody Bible Commentary, in my opinion, rightly interprets verse 6 as saying that “Jesus does not exploit His equality with God for selfish ends.”[5] Jesus remained God, and his position did not change when he became a human being. Rather, Jesus humbly walked among humanity. Even though he had greater authority than any living human being ever had, or ever would have, Jesus continued to live a humble life. In like manner, believers must walk even more humbly, as we have far less authority than Jesus. Rather than being obsessed with power, authority, or prestige, believers would do well to remember their humble state when compared to the awesome authority of God.

The Incarnation’s Appeal to Humble Assistance (Phil. 2:7)

The hymn continues by noting, “Instead [Christ] emptied himself by assuming the form of a servant, taking on the likeness of humanity” (Phil. 2:7). Throughout his life, Jesus taught, led, and modeled servant leadership. Even though he held more authority than anyone ever could ever imagine, he led by serving. The text says that Christ “emptied himself.” Theories abound on what this means,[6] but all would agree that this is humility personified. Imagine this: The King of kings, who was in the highest court of all time (i.e., the divine council), allowed himself to be born in a dirty, stinky manger.

Compare this to the modern mindset that many hold today. I worked in an environment a few years ago, where the employees had been asked to assist the custodian with his duties, where possible. The custodian had suffered from some heart problems. His doctor had discouraged him from lifting anything heavy, including trash bags, which could weigh well over 20 lbs. To assist him until he could fully recover, leadership requested that we the employees help him by throwing away the trash bags into the trash bin. Most of the employees were more than willing to help the custodian. To assist the custodian, I grabbed a couple of the trash bags and loaded them into the cart so that they could be taken out. At the time that this occurred, I was still working on my bachelor’s degree. One employee looked at me and said, “I have earned a master’s degree. I don’t do things like that anymore!” This startled me. Did the individual take out their own trash? One would think so. Furthermore, does obtaining degrees in higher education remove the need for one to perform menial tasks? Now that I am working on the last phases of my dissertation for my Ph.D. program, I need to talk to somebody, because something has not worked out right for me. After all, I am still required to perform daily tasks like taking out the trash. (In case your sarcasm detector is broken, I am, of course, speaking tongue-in-cheek.)

The employee’s reaction is commonplace in modern society. Many people, myself included, have sought to obtain positions and statuses where others look up to us. I am, quite honestly, startled how social media has brought out our incessant desire to be seen, heard, and appreciated. Being seen, heard, and loved are not necessarily bad things, mind you. Such desires merely illustrate the needs of the human heart. However, the problem comes when these desires overwhelm us and become obsessive, to the point of exhibiting narcissistic traits, where others are cast down at the altar of our own ego. When we become infatuated with the number of likes our posts hold, the number of awards we have, and the standing we have among others, we are not focused on the virtues of Christ. Such actions stand directly opposed to the model that Christ afforded and expects from us.

Conclusion

Thus far, we have learned that Christ’s incarnation emphasized humility in his authority. That is, even though Christ had the highest authority that any could hold, he did not flaunt his authority and neither did he use his authority as a means to boast. Rather, he assumed the role of a lowly servant. By this point alone, we should all stop to consider how counteracts some segments of Western Christianity that appeals to the idea of domination by force. Secondly, we noted how Christ’s incarnation speaks to the need of humble assistance. That is, the believer should not seek to be served, but rather to serve. Already, the incarnation has challenged us to the core regarding humility—or at least it has me. In the next entry, we will investigate how Christ’s acceptance and assurance speaks to our need for humility.

---

[1] I have written on the different possibilities of Jesus’s birth date at BellatorChristi.com. See Brian Chilton, “When and What Time Was Jesus Born,” BellatorChristi.com (12/19/2017), https://bellatorchristi.com/2017/12/19/when-and-what-time-was-jesus-born/.

[2] Athanasius of Alexandria, Athanasius: On the Incarnation of the Word of God, 2nd ed, T. Herbert Bindley, trans (London: The Religious Tract Society, 1903), 142.

[3] Unless otherwise noted, all quoted Scripture comes from the Christian Standard Bible (Nashville, TN: Holman, 2020).

[4] 57.236, in Johannes P. Louw and Eugene Albert Nida, Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament: Based on Semantic Domains (New York: United Bible Societies, 1996), 583.

[5] Gerald W. Peterman, “Philippians,” in The Moody Bible Commentary, Michael A. Rydelnik and Michael Vanlaningham, eds (Chicago, IL: Moody Publishers, 2014), 1861.

[6] Three theories provide a possible interpretation. 1) The kenotic theory holds that Christ emptied himself of his divine attributes while on earth. 2) The incarnation view asserts that Christ merely emptied his nature into humanity by assuming the form of a servant. 3) The Servant of the Lord portrait views the term “emptying” as a metaphor of the Servant of the Lord motif in Isaiah 53. As Hansen notes, the Philippians hymn could provide an interpretation that holds some elements of all three. Walter G. Hansen, The Letter to the Philippians, Pillar New Testament Commentary (Grand Rapids, MI; Cambridge, UK: Eerdmans; Apollos, 2009), 146.

---

Brian G. Chilton is the founder of BellatorChristi.com, the host of The Bellator Christi Podcast, and the author of the Layman’s Manual on Christian Apologetics. Brian is a Ph.D. Candidate of the Theology and Apologetics program at Liberty University. He received his Master of Divinity in Theology from Liberty University (with high distinction); his Bachelor of Science in Religious Studies and Philosophy from Gardner-Webb University (with honors); and received certification in Christian Apologetics from Biola University. Brian is a member of the Evangelical Theological Society and the Evangelical Philosophical Society. Brian has served in pastoral ministry for nearly 20 years and currently serves as a clinical chaplain.

https://www.amazon.com/Laymans-Manual-Christian-Apologetics-Essentials/dp/1532697104

© 2021. MoralApologetics.com.

Peace on Earth…

“Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests”

Trip back to the 1960’s: I am living without peace; so is much of the country. The inner turmoil convulsing in me mirrors the outer world; it is tearing at the inner seams.  Everything is topsy-turvy, upside-down, and wrong-side up.  Enduring principles, paragons, and precepts are disputed.  Is there no fixed point?  Moreover, America and the USSR are locked in a ‘Cold War’ from Berlin to Viet Nam; blacks struggle for equality; cities burn; and revolutionaries clash with the status-quo; even in my own family conflict surges: my parents, when not shouting at each other, are yelling at me.  The year is 1968 - it seems like 2020.  I have no peace.

The waring polarities - protester-establishment; male-female; black-white; young-old - converge with my inner turmoil.  People in the streets cry, ‘Peace, Peace’, but there is no peace.

In 1969 at nineteen, a watershed moment occurs:  my eyes are opened.  I see my problem - each person’s problem - I am estranged from God. “We were enemies” says the apostle Paul.  I am God’s rival every bit as much as Winston Churchill was Lady Astor’s. She said to him, “If I were your wife, I’d put poison in your tea.”  He replied, “Madam, if I were your husband, I’d drink it.”

I deny it.  Me, an enemy of God?  Ridiculous. What?  Am I not living as though I am the King of me?  A kingdom cannot have two kings.  Philosopher Bertrand Russell quipped, “Every man would like to be God if it were possible; some few find it difficult to admit the impossibility.”

Has not God declared, ‘I am God and there is no other”?  I am living de facto as God.  This is a recipe for war.  I own up to it: I am trying to be king in God’s country.  I am in a state of enmity with God.

Then I learn God did something to break the impasse: he sued for peace.  “While we were still sinners Christ died for us,” says the apostle Paul.  God comes at Christmas to give us Easter.  He comes in the flesh to bring peace; He comes to offer friendly relations with himself by dying an atoning death on a cross: “Peace on earth, mercy mild, God and sinners reconciled!”   Abraham Lincoln said, “Am I not destroying my enemies when I make friends of them?” God exchanges a “falling out” for friendship.  “God was pleased to reconcile to Himself all things” - even me - declares the apostle Paul. Jesus made friends with this enemy; his truce with me is everything.    Accepting this Prince of Peace has imparted peace that runs deeper than tempests.  Since then, my heart gladly exclaims, “Hail the heaven-born Prince of Peace!”

Etched in my mind this Christmas is the 1972 iconic photograph of the naked nine year old girl, Kim Phuc Phan Thi, fleeing down a Viet Nam roadway shrieking in pain and fear with an ominous, dark, billowing napalm cloud behind her.  Scarred physically and emotionally from burns over her body, Phan prays to the god of Cao Dai for healing and peace.  There is no answer.  Either he is not interested, or not there.  Later, she is inside Saigon’s central library thumbing through religious books on Baha’i, Buddhism, Hinduism, Islam, and Cao Dai…then she picks up the New Testament.  She reads through the Gospels.  She is struck by Jesus.  He claims to be “the way, and the truth and the life.” He is tortured for his claim.  The more she reads the more she is convinced he would not suffer such things if he were not God.  As she continues to read the New Testament, she finds Jesus’ claim authentic.

On Christmas Eve 1982, she attends worship at a small church in Saigon - just minutes away from where she was bombed.  The pastor speaks of Christmas gifts but especially of the gift of Jesus Christ.  “How desperately I needed peace,” Phan says.  “I had so much hatred in my heart…I wanted to let go of all the pain…I wanted this Jesus”.  On the night before the birth of our Lord, she stands up, steps into the aisle, and strides to the front of the sanctuary.  She says ‘Yes’ to him, inviting “Jesus into my heart”.

When she awakes on Christmas morn, Phan says, “I was finally at peace”.   A half century after running down the Saigon road screaming in pain and fear, she celebrates the freedom and peace Jesus Christ gives.  Having been through unspeakable horrors, she realizes there is nothing greater than the love of our blessed Savior.  Fifty years later, this writer, though his circumstances are different from Phan’s, rejoices in the same peace of the Prince of Peace, proclaiming,

“Glory be to God on high, and peace on earth, descend; God comes down, he bows the sky, and shows himself our friend.”

---

Tom is currently a retired Elder in the Virginia Annual Conference.  He has pastored churches in Virginia, California and England.  Studying John Wesley’s theology, he received his Ph.D. and M.A. degrees from the University of Bristol, Bristol, England and his Master of Divinity degree from Asbury Theological Seminary. While a student, he and his wife Pam lived in John Wesley’s Chapel “The New Room”, Bristol, England, the first established Methodist preaching house.  Tom was a faculty member of Asbury Theological Seminary. He has contributed articles to Methodist History and the Wesleyan Theological Journal. He and his wife have two children, daughter Karissa, who is an attorney in Richmond, Virginia, and, John, who is a recent graduate of Regent University.  Being a part of the development of their grandson Beau is a rich reward.  Tom enjoys a good book by a crackling fire with an English cup of tea.  His life text is, ‘Jesus, confirm my heart’s desire, to work and speak and think for thee’

Seed-planting and Fruit Bearing

Adoration of the Shepherds by Dutch painter Matthias Stomer, 1632

A Twilight Musing

           During the Christmas Season we concentrate on the beginning of God’s greatest act of seed-planting, the impregnation of Mary by the Holy Spirit.  We do well, however, to remember that the immediate fruit of her womb, the birth of the Incarnate Son of God was not the end of the matter, but the beginning of the ever-expanding purposes of God through His Son.  The poem below depicts Mary’s awareness that her understanding of what has happened to her will be an unpredictable unfolding.

The Husbandry of God

(Luke 1:26-35)

How can I contain this word from the Lord?

His light has pierced my being

And sown in single seed

Both glory and shame.

Content was I

To wed in lowliness

And live in obscurity,

With purity my only dower.

Now, ravished with power,

I flout the conventions of man

To incubate God.

In lowliness how shall I bear it?

In modesty how shall I tell it?

What now shall I become?

But the fruit of God's planting

Is His to harvest.

No gleaner I, like Ruth,

But the field itself,

In whom my Lord lies hid.

          “What now shall I become?” she asks, and realizes that, like the embryo in her womb, the purposes of God are developing.  When the baby is born and the shepherds make their surprise visit, Mary “pondered” the meaning of the message they brought (Luke 2:19).  She must also have pondered  the cryptic words of Simeon in the Temple when Mary and Joseph brought the baby to be dedicated to the Lord: that in addition to being “appointed for the fall and rising of many in Israel,” that also “a sword will pierce through your [Mary’s] own soul” (Luke 2:33-35).  When Mary said, “Let it be done to me according to your word” (Luke 1:38), she was letting herself in for more than she realized.  Those of us who have walked with the Lord for a while recognize that He often takes what seems submission to his will for a specific time and expands it into a much longer period of the development of His purposes.

          This sense of God’s ends being incipient in His beginnings is brought out beautifully and profoundly in the first 18 verses of John 1.  I have endeavored to create below a poetic digest of these verses.

“The Alpha/Omega Word”

(John 1:1-18)

Beginning Word

Spoke Light to Chaos;

Light pushed Life from sod,

And God through Word

Made forms to walk on sod,

And finally man to trod

On finished earth.

But darkness pierced

The perfect pearl of Paradise:

The Word no longer heard,

Nor known the fellowship with Light.

In darkness, tyrannous Time was lord,

But Time was also womb of Light renewed.

Word of Light

Re-entered world He made,

Took on a mortal mould1 

That showed the face of God,

Undimmed by shade.

Heralded by John He came,

Following in flesh

But eternally before;

Jordan-witnessed Lamb of God,

Light to be extinguished

So that Light could shine once more.

Time redeemed

Became a womb again:

Spirit spawned

Brothers of the Son,

Children owing naught to fallen flesh,

But reborn through God-in-Flesh,

The Light of Life.

New Covenant of Life,

Bought with blood,

Became God’s family,

Receiving grace and truth

Transcending Law of Death.

New breath breathed in

Through timeless Word,

 Beginning and also end.

        1 “Mould” is the British spelling of “mold,” with

        the old meaning of “earth” (decaying material).

            In this poem, we see encapsulated the maturing of God’s eternal purpose in cycles of renewal: Word creating flesh finally becoming flesh to redeem fallen flesh; Light dimmed by darkness, but Light piercing darkness; the tyranny of time and death reversed by Incarnate eternality; fallen flesh becoming like the Son of God, recreated in the image of the Word Himself.

          Praise in this season for our wondrous God, not only as the Alpha born of Mary, but as the Omega still working out His purposes in us and in the world.

---

Dr. Elton Higgs was a faculty member in the English department of the University of Michigan-Dearborn from 1965-2001. Having retired from UM-D as Prof. of English in 2001, he now lives with his wife and adult daughter in Jackson, MI.. He has published scholarly articles on Chaucer, Langland, the Pearl Poet, Shakespeare, and Milton. His self-published Collected Poems is online at Lulu.com. He also published a couple dozen short articles in religious journals. (Ed.: Dr. Higgs was the most important mentor during undergrad for the creator of this website, and his influence was inestimable; it's thrilling to welcome this dear friend onboard.)

Good King Wenceslas: An Allegory of Advent

Good King Wenceslas, illustrated in Christmas Carols, New and Old

One Advent night in 1982 we attended a Christmas choral concert in the Bristol Cathedral in England.  Though I knew the “Good King Wenceslas” carol, I had never paid attention to the lyrics.  That night the majestic orchestra, joined with the cathedral choristers and choir, dramatized the Wenceslas lyrics in such a way the joy and awe of the Gospel message transfixed me.  As we share verse by verse this carol’s allegory, rejoice this Christmas season. God entered His world to rescue helpless souls like you and me!

Stanza One

Good King Wenceslas look’d out, On the feast of Stephen,
When the snow lay round-a-bout, Deep and crisp and even.

Brightly shone the moon that night, Though the frost was cruel,

When a poor man came in sight, Gath’ring winter fuel.

On the Feast of St. Stephen’s, the day after Christmas or “Boxing Day,” the celebrations of giving and receiving continue.  King Wenceslas is comfortably settled in his great castle.  Fifteen-foot Christmas fir trees grace the palace drawing rooms with their candlelight and royal baubles.  Holly and berry swags adorn huge fireplace mantels.   Golden candelabras throw flickering warmth across the hall.  The king’s fireplaces blaze with forest logs.  His vast tracts of woodlands and forest supply against the coldest winter nights.  The king’s massive palace radiates with family cheer and contentment. He lacks for nothing. 

Good King Wenceslas embodies God.  Sovereign of worlds seen and unseen, He commands seventy sextillion known stars.  He is Monarch of more shining, heavenly spheres than ten times the grains of sand on earth’s deserts and beaches.  The earth is His and “everything in it, the world, and all who live in it.” “For every beast of the forest is mine,” says the Lord.  Wenceslas’ kingdom is the cosmos resplendent with light, order, and plenty.

The St. Stephen’s winterscape captivates the eye – at least from the sovereign’s side of the window pane.  Contented after a day of festivities, King Wenceslas looks out. The snow is “deep and crisp and even,” glistening in the moonlight.  The idyllic picture is betrayed by the fierce cold.  No one dare venture out on a night like this; yet, against the snow a dark figure intrudes into the king’s gaze. What’s that man doing out there on a night like this?  Rummaging for wood on the holiday?  Why does he not have wood?  Was he slack in stocking up in the summer?  Now he is come to trespass on the king’s property? 

This poor man rummaging for wood on a frigid night is every person’s ill state. Prophets painted our picture gloomy: “Cursed is the ground…. Through painful toil you will eat … and the pride of men humbled…. There is an outcry in the streets for lack of wine … all the merry-hearted sigh … people loved darkness … because their deeds were evil.” Ignorance of our blindness and rebellion against God cover like darkness. Human life is lived under sin as “far as the curse is found.”  Pitiable and bound to self and fleshly passions the “flood of mortal ills” and evils overtake us.  Under the power of sin, ruin and misery overtake our paths.  We are the desperate man come into sight scrounging every which way to survive against the cruel winter’s wrath.

Stanza Two

‘Hither, page, and stand by me, If thou know’st it telling,

Yonder peasant, who is he?  Where and what his dwelling?’

‘Sire, he lives a good league hence, Underneath the mountain,

Right against the forest fence, By Saint Agnes’ fountain.’

 “Come, here, page,” says King Wenceslas to his attendant. “Yonder peasant, who is he, where and what is his home?”  Little does the poor peasant know he is being watched, even by the king himself.  “The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation,” said Henry David Thoreau.  “God will never see,” they say.  “The universe is dumb, stone deaf, and blank and wholly blind.”  Oh? Are not “the eyes of the Lord … in every place”?  Is not “his eye … on the sparrow?”   “Where can I flee from your presence?” asks the Psalmist. Under Pharaoh’s whip, Israel was unaware God was witnessing their misery. “I have observed the misery of my people … I have heard their cry … I know their sufferings,” said the Lord.

 King Wenceslas is not gawking.  The monarch is moved by the poor man’s need.   “I have surely seen the mistreatment of my people … I have heard their groaning,” the Lord God said.

Stanza Three

 “Bring me flesh, and bring me wine, Bring me pinelogs hither:

Thou and I shall see him dine, When we bear them Thither.”

Page and monarch, forth they went, Forth they went together;

Through the rude wind’s wild lament And the bitter weather.

One would think the king would snap his fingers, issue a command, and servants would rush to the poor man’s aid.  What? The monarch himself is going?  “You and I will see him dine, when we bear them thither.”  “No sire, this is contrary to protocol.  The Royal Court does not enter the peasant’s world.” “My subject’s welfare is my own.  Forgo the Court’s couch ... leave the velvet slippers and bring me snow boots.” 

 Incognito the king goes into the furious night.  He takes no retinue of riders, carriages, and security guards.  This is no “photo op” for the 6 o’clock news.  This is not to win the peasant’s vote.

The poor man’s predicament reveals the God who pities our human condition.  “He doesn’t forget the cry of the afflicted…. As a Father pities his children, so the Lord has compassion for those who fear him…. But you, O Lord, are a God merciful and gracious.”  Rich King Wenceslas becomes the poor peasant.  The punishing night is now his.  “Though He was rich, yet for your sakes He became poor, so that by His poverty you might become rich.” Christ who was God gave up everything to enter our world.  “The Word was God…. And the Word became flesh and lived among us….”

See the Lord of earth and skies

Humbled to the Dust He is.

And in a Manger lies.

The Creator comes into his own universe.  The King enters His own woods. Unheralded and unknown He came to his own home, yet the world did not know Him. He leaves heaven and submits Himself to our sinful existence.  He even dies unjustly on a cursed cross to save trespassing sinners. He did it incognito … disguised … rejected … as just another commoner abroad on a foul night. 

Stanza Four

“Sire, the night is darker now, And the wind grows stronger;

Fails my heart I know not how; I can go no longer.”

“Mark my footsteps, my good page, Tread thou in them boldly;

Thou shalt find the winter’s rage Freeze thy blood less coldly.”

 

In stanza four, the king’s page comes to the fore in the story.  He is accompanying the king on the mission.  Jesus called disciples to accompany Him.  They go with Him to join in His mission of salvation. As they go, they encounter opposition. The night grows darker.  The winds blow stronger.  Opposition intensifies.  Inspiration grows weak.  The servant can go no farther.  “Sire, the night is darker now, And the wind blows stronger, Fails my heart I know not how, I can go no longer.”  Ever felt you can go no longer?  Sighing you say, “Lord, I have had enough.” 

Sheet music of "Good King Wenceslas" in a biscuit container from 1913, preserved at the Victoria and Albert Museum.

The fleshly servant is not up to his Master’s task.  Nonetheless, in his/her weakness, the disciple discovers God’s strength.  The Master’s greatness is manifest.  The King will save the poor soul … and bring His weak disciple along with Him.  The Sovereign’s grace, solace, help, encouragement, and strength reveal themselves under affliction. “Mark my footsteps, my good page, Tread thou in them boldly, You shall find the winter’s rage, Freeze thy blood less coldly.”  Our Master is ahead of us trodding down the snow, cutting a path, and forming our steps for us. The Master’s very footsteps heat up us servants’ cold.

Stanza Five

In his master’s steps he trod, Where the snow lay dinted;

Heat was in the very sod, Which the saint had printed.

Therefore, Christian men, be sure, Wealth or rank possessing,

Ye who now will bless the poor, Shall yourselves find blessing.

Indeed, the “Good King Wenceslas” carol dramatizes poignantly our Christian responsibility to the poor and disenfranchised. Nevertheless, I see a deeper allegory.  The King forgoes his palace to enter a fierce world in order to rescue a helpless man.  Christ Jesus leaves heaven, empties Himself, becomes flesh, and suffers death on a cross to save helpless humankind.  The Master calls His servants to go with him in His mission of bringing abundant life to endangered sinners in this dark, rude world.  We offer Jesus Christ and ourselves to helpless sinners in a frightful world.  As we go, He goes with and before us treading out our path.

---

Tom was most recently pastor of the Bellevue Charge in Forest, Virginia until retiring in July. Studying John Wesley’s theology, he received his M.A. and Ph.D. degrees from the University of Bristol, Bristol, England. While a student, he and his wife Pam lived in John Wesley’s Chapel “The New Room”, Bristol, England, the first established Methodist preaching house. Tom was a faculty member of Asbury Theological Seminary from 1998-2003. He has contributed articles to Methodist History and the Wesleyan Theological Journal. He and his wife Pam have two children, Karissa, who is an Associate Attorney at McCandlish Holton Morris in Richmond, and, John, who is a junior communications major/business minor at Regent University. Tom enjoys being outdoors in his parkland woods and sitting by a cheery fire with a good book on a cool evening.

Three Poems on the New Year: Perspectives on Time

Photo by Alex Guillaume on Unsplash

          The measurement of time is so ingrained in our society that we take it for granted.  On a daily basis we have schedules that mark the beginning and ending of assigned or chosen tasks.  On a larger scale, we track the progress of each week, month, or year.  Our annual celebration of the transition from one calendar year to another invites a summary and evaluation of what has been accomplished or merely taken place in the past year.  In a more personal way, we celebrate birthdays as milestones in the progress of our lives.  Underlying all of this measurement of time is an awareness that we humans, along with our social and political institutions, have limited lifespans.  We are all on the path to death.

          It has not always been so.  When God created the Earth to be an environment for living things, especially for his ultimate creation, human beings, there was no sense of limited life, and so no need to measure time.  But all of that changed when Adam and Eve chose to disobey God, thereby incurring the promised penalty of death.  Very quickly after the two of them were banished from the timeless Garden of Eden, the narrative about their offspring began to be marked by the passage of time: how many years between the births of their children and how old each person was when he died.  How different the human and divine perspectives on the passage of time had become.

          I have imagined in “Adam’s first New Year” how he might have ruminated about his new perception of the passage of time on the anniversary of his and Eve’s expulsion from Paradise. In this monologue, Adam, though keenly aware of the sad new world he and Eve have brought about, realizes that God is still with him, transcending His own edict of judgment, just as He had done earlier when He clothed the just-realized, sin-conscious nakedness of the pair. 

Adam's First New Year

Adam paced the field

Made rough by tilling,

Unwilling ground since God

Withdrew His Presence from it.

The sun itself, now cyclic,

Gave only partial beams

To warm the stubborn soil.

"No need in Eden's bounds

To think of ebb and flow,

Of patterned change

Which gives us markers

For the progress of decay;

But now each day reveals

That something more of what we were

Is lost,

And nights accumulate

Until the sun comes back

To mark the point where death began.

"That day, I made a world

Where beginnings add up to ends,

And cycles are incremental.

Can God be heard in such a place?

Can timeless Love be found

Where time feeds hateful death?

I know only that breath,

Though shortened now,

Is still from Him;

And though I sweat for bread,

He feeds me yet."

            The next two poems show the same paradoxical way that God goes beyond our

time-limited understanding of the flow of events.  He sees without the restrictions of past, present, and future.

Tying Up Loose Ends

Accumulating year-ends is a purely human occupation:

Piling up tinsel monuments

And stacking shards of shattered plans.

Only the illusion

That things which matter have beginning or end

Spurs mortals to wrap up one year

And open another.

Celestial perception

Tolerates imperfection,

But gently urges us not to mistake

Our clocks for absolute.

We will accept, then,

The fragmentation of experience,

And search for the splices of God

By which the worst of the past

And the promise of the future

Are always joined.

           

            Finally, I offer a poem that reflects the perversity of our fallen wills in opting so often for the immediate, but temporal, pleasures of our mortal world, rather than the eternally significant treasures of God’s grace.

Bankrupt

Borrowed time

Is what we all live on.

Profligate spenders,

We purchase the gauds and trinkets

Of Vanity Fair.

We prefer our own

Purchased pain

To the gift of suffering

Which is beyond our means;

Our own indebtedness

To the solvency of Grace.

Kyrie eleison,

Christe eleison!

Lord, have mercy!  Christ, have mercy!  Grant us the eyes of eternity.

Gregory of Nyssa, the Death of Infants, and the Life of God

“From where then comes evil?” This question, going back as far as Plato, more than any other perhaps in human history, has challenged the theist to think carefully about the nature of evil. And of course, there is a long tradition of responses in Christian history.

Most remember Gregory of Nyssa as one of the three Cappadocian fathers who were instrumental in solidifying the Trinitarian theology of the early church. As such, he became an important defender of Nicene orthodoxy. Defender against Arianism that he was, Gregory was exiled for a time during the reign of the pro-Arian emporer Valens, though this, fortunately for Gregory, was short-lived.

Gregory’s theological treatises (Answer to Enomius, On the Holy Spirit, On the Holy Trinity, On “Not Three Gods,” and On the Faith) are some of his best known works. Lesser known is his On Infants’ Early Deaths, written as a letter to the governor Hierius near the end of Gregory’s life. Here Gregory addresses the difficult and painful question as to why “while the life of one is lengthened into old age, another has only so far a portion of it as to breathe the air with one gasp, and die.” Gregory ponders how we ought to think of such a life, too briefly glimpsed, in light of what we believe about human nature and divine judgment. “Will a soul such as that,” he asks, “behold its Judge?”

As any good theologian must do, to answer this question, Gregory first establishes a broader theological context. He puts forth as essential a series of propositions as prolegomena to the question, affirming:

• the contingency of the universe as created by God,
• the creation of humans in God’s image
• the creation of humans to comprehend, glorify, and relate with God,
• the existence of evil, like ignorance and truth, as the absence of personal connection to God,
• the initiative of God to remedy this absence of relatedness to Himself,

Thus Gregory remarks, “alienation from God, Who is the Life, is an evil; the cure, then, of this infirmity is, again to be made friends with God, and so to be in life once more.” To be cut off from God is thus to be cut off from Life itself.

Gregory then takes to an analogy of two individuals with damaged sight. In his scenario, one of the individuals commits themself to being cured and follows “the doctor’s orders” while the other lives a life of pleasure and indulgence with no regard to the physician’s directions. The result of the process, Gregory states, is that the one, by his choice, receives again the ability to perceive the light while the other, by ignorant choice, receives the natural consequences of their decision. Obviously in Gregory's analogy, humans are free to accept or reject the healing salve provided by the Father to cure them of the evil in the world. The infant, for Gregory, however, has not yet tasted evil, their sight has not yet been obscured, and thus they can partake in the knowledge of God, even if only partially, “until the time comes that it has thriven on the contemplation of the truly Existent as on a congenial diet, and, becoming capable of receiving more, takes at will more from that abundant supply of the truly Existent which is offered.” For Gregory, both the innocent infant and the unborn child will partake of the blessings of God.

Saint Gregory of Nyssa. By Francesco Bartolozzi after Domenichino

Gregory also postulates that God allows infant death so as to not subject them to the evils of the world or to prevent the evil which they would perpetuate. He states, “Therefore, to prevent one who has indulged in the carousals to an improper extent from lingering over so profusely furnished a table, he is early taken from the number of the banqueters, and thereby secures an escape out of those evils which unmeasured indulgence procures for gluttons.”

What then of those who are born to this world and do perpetuate great evils? Gregory suggests, “He tells us that God, in rendering to every one his due, sometimes even grants a scope to wickedness for good in the end. Therefore He allowed the King of Egypt, for example, to be born and to grow up such as he was; the intention was that Israel, that great nation exceeding all calculation by numbers, might be instructed by his disaster.”

The difficulty of the issue certainly escapes our ability to fully articulate what God in His goodness and wisdom might allow or intend. Gregory’s response, while neither exhausting nor ultimately resolving the question, points us to some fruitful observations.

That evil is both an intrusion into God’s world and the absence of Good rather than its cosmic opposite, offers a sound insight. In the thought-world of Second Temple Judaism, God is likewise viewed as Good, not as the author of evil. In the Wisdom of Solomon, for example, we learn “God did not make death, neither does he delight when the living perish” (1:13). Death, like evil, is an intrusion into God’s world, not His design for it. Likewise, Paul writes in a similar vein in Romans 7, asserting that Sin hijacked God’s good Law and forced it to bring death rather than life, which was God’s intent. Just as Gregory observes that the gift of life comes only from the True Life, so death comes as a result of Sin and evil, not as God’s design but as a force opposed to His purposes.

Can we hold with Gregory that those infants who die are allowed to do so that God might prevent the evils they would pursue? While this is a possibility, it raises obvious questions of why God would not prevent the life of Hitler or Stalin or Hussein. Or further more, why would God not prevent all human life, since all humans are bound to sin? Ultimately Gregory’s suggestion here is not entirely satisfactory. His insistence, however, that evil is a temporary intrusion into God’s plan to bless and prosper humanity, remains true. And his suggestion that the death of unborn children and infants must not be seen as affecting their judgment, but rather must be hopefully grasped as assurance of their being nurtured by the Father, is likewise worthy of approval.

We may, however, fault Gregory on another front as well, since in On Infants’ Early Deaths there is no explicit mention of Jesus as the means by which God is dealing with Evil, Sin, and Death. Christ’s death and resurrection ultimately alone provides hope for life and goodness. Apart from it, as Paul argues in Romans, Death and Sin still reign. But in Christ’s victory, the salve can be applied and the victory appropriated to those who come to the Physician for His healing touch. The goodness of a Good God assures us that evil will have its end, and the Life of the Light of humanity assures us that we can truly be made friends of God through the love of the Father, Spirit, and Son.

Photo:"ray of hope" by JP, CC License. 

"And the Word Became Flesh"

"And the Word Became Flesh"

(John 1:1)

When Word invested in flesh,

No matter the shrouds that swathed it;

The donning of sin's poor corpse

(Indignity enough)

Was rightly wrapped in robes of death.

Yet breath of God

Broke through the shroud,

Dispersed the cloud

That darkened every birth before.

Those swaddling bands bespoke

A glory in the grave,

When flesh emerged as Word.

Take up this flesh, O Lord:

Re-form it with Your breath,

That, clothed in wordless death,

It may be Your Word restored.

Elton D. Higgs (1985)

Photo: "Detail of the Adoration of the Magi Stained Glass Window; the Anglican Church of St Paul – Corner Queen and Bridge Streets, Korumburra" by raan99. CC License.