Wretched man that I am

“Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death?  Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!”  Romans 7:24-25

The Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle stories are favorites on our boys’ bookshelves.  They are set in a pleasant suburb in the mid-fifties, the sort of place where mothers have always just taken sugar cookies out of the oven and daddies are headed out after work to finish the new treehouse ladder.  The stories are populated with children—accomplished, good natured, obedient children—who just happen to be passing through unfortunate phases.

Take Nicholas Semicolon, subject of the story Philip read to all of us as we made our way across Maine last week.  Nicholas is ten, large and strong for his age, the apple of his mother’s eye.  But he also happens to have become a thoroughly rotten bully.  He hits girls and pulls dog’s tails, upsets baby carriages and speaks rudely to everyone he meets.  His parents have been blissfully ignorant about all of this until they receive a call from Mrs. Eager, whose son’s legs are covered in bandages after little Nicky’s latest attack.

Like Christians, Not Bears

“Let us consider how to stir up one another to love and good works.” Hebrews 10:24

If there were websites that allowed students to review boarding schools, I imagine that most of you would have a few complaints to air.  It may be that a few of these slip out from time to time when you are calling, or texting, or face booking a friend back home who hasn’t had the fortune of ending up in this exotic place called Saint James.  When I taught here, I was always very careful not to look over the shoulders of my charges who flocked to the computers after study hall was over, but I had some idea what was being said: can you believe they give two hours of homework in this place?  You can’t imagine what they serve in that dining hall.  I’ve never lived this far from a decent mall in my life!

Last week, I happened upon a letter written by a boarding school student to his father nearly two hundred years ago, and believe me, next to him your life here is a walk in the park.  Young Henry describes rations of black bread, mattresses stuffed with wheat chaff, all the boys washing once a week at a long horse trough, with never enough soap to go around.  The headmaster, Henry said, inspected all the letters, so he had to slip this one to a friend of his father’s at church.  When the lights were out, in the dormitory, it was every man for himself. He begged his father to let him come home for Christmas, if God permitted him to live so long.  He closed the secret missive with these words: “I assure you we are used more like Bears than Christians and believe me, my dear Father, I would rather be obliged to work all my life time than remain here another year.[1]”

For Meditation: "reflect all heaven's propitious rays"

"Thy precious time mispent, redeem,
Each present day thy last esteem;
Improve thy talent, with due care,
For the great day thyself prepare.

In conversation be sincere,
Keep conscience as the noon-tide clear.
Think how all-seeing God thy ways,
And all thy secret thought surveys.

By influence of the light divine,
Let thy own light to others shine,
Reflect all heaven's propitious rays,
In ardent love, and cheerful praise.

I wake, I wake, ye heavenly choir,
May your devotion me inspire,
That I like you my age may spend,
Like you may on my God attend.

May I like you on God delight,
Have all day long my God in sight,
Perform like you my Maker's will,
O may I never more do ill."

Thomas Ken, A Morning Hymn (1685)