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December 1990 South Africa: A New Student Movement School Loan Debts Snag Mission Candidates How Perspectives Changed Lives Become an Adopt-A-People Advocate
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In Praise of Foolish Lovers The last day near at hand? History is littered with the detritus of discerning thinkers who could not get their minds off biblical prophecy: Matthew, Irenaeus, Gregory the Great, Isaac Newton, and Jonathan Edwards, to name a few. Take Edwards, who, claimed American historian Sydney Ahl-strom, made "the most impressive contribution to the Reformed theological tradition between John Calvin in the sixteenth century and Karl Barth in the twentieth." At age 13, already showing facility in Latin, Greek, and Hebrew, Edwards entered Yale University. In his later years, he was appointed president of what was to become Princeton University. Along the way he penned theological works that Perry Miller, historian of Puritan America, described as a brilliant synthesis of the physics of Isaac Newton, the psychology of John Locke, and the theology of the Bible. The same Edwards, reflecting upon the Great Awakening, wrote, "[T]he Spirit of God has been of late so wonderfully striving with such multitudes... that God was about to do something more glorious, and would, before he finishes, bring things to a greater ripeness...." And this: "God in his providence now seems to be acting over again the same part which he did a little time before Christ came." Edwards fully expected Christ's immediate return. What is going on here? How can sophisticated persons, immersed in the intricacies of theology, philosophy, and science, bold and original thinkers who shaped Western civilization and molded modern Christian thought ö how could they be so small-minded as to worry themselves about the imminent return of Christ? How could they be so shortsighted as to see signs of his return everywhere about them? It will not do to say they simply remained men of their age, of its expectations and hopes. Why did they retain this doctrine when they seemed so advanced in other ways? I find them an embarrassment. But I keep running across people ö Luther and Edwards and their ilk ö who saw things differently. I study Luther and do mental back flips at the profundity of his thought. As I read Edwards, I must scale, inch by inch, an Everest of an intellect just to glimpse the theological panorama that he saw daily. When I put down such authors, I recognize the puniness of my praise of, my thought about, Christ. One thing I seem to have a better handle on than them, however, is this business of the Second Coming. The Thing Called Love about being "in love." I love my wife dearly, certainly, but I am not keen on being "in love." I must confess, however, that things were not always this way. Years ago, I was in love ö regularly. First there was Sue, and then Sandy. Next came Ellen, and finally Barb. Being in love was fun, but rather useless and overrated, I finally concluded. I increasingly wondered how I could say to one girl, "I'm in love with you," and then a few months or years later say the same thing to another. Besides, that feeling of being in love didn't help me one whit in deciding which woman was to be my one and only. When in the throes of love, each object of my palpitations seemed a perfect mate. I also noticed that being in love wasted a lot of time and energy. Naturally, during each of these relationships, my loved one would have to be apart from me a while, and out of touch besides (one took backpack trips, another skipped off to Europe one summer). No problem, I thought. I'm an adult. I had learned how to handle separation anxiety in kindergarten. I had studied some psychology. I was in control. But after my loved one left, the first time the phone rang, I dashed for it ö until I remembered, of course, that she would not be calling for some time. But when the phone rang again, I found myself bouncing up and sprinting for the phone, longing to hear her voice. And when there was a knock on the door, my heart sank into my stomach ö until I remembered. But at the next knock, my heart would drop again. As her return became imminent ö two weeks away, perhaps ö I noticed serious lack of judgment. A car would pull up in the driveway. It's her! I would think. No, she's not due for a week. Get a hold on yourself! I would fly out of the house and smash the mail carrier with the screen door. The next afternoon, as I shopped at the grocery store, I would see her out of the corner of my eye ö at least her back. What's she doing here? Iâve got to see her face. No, this is ridiculous, she's a thousand miles away. Oh, but it's just got be her, who else could it be? Most of the time I would finally get a hold on myself, but I had visions of rushing up and tenderly grabbing the arm of a complete stranger, who would begin striking me with her purse. Somewhere along the way I mellowed, of course, and tamed this being-in-love stuff. And it was not just due to marriage and vocation and babies. It started long before that. I began to realize the importance of tough-minded (yet tender), biblical love: love as commitment, love as sacrifice, love that means something, that lasts, that makes a difference. After 15 years of marriage, I know a deep and abiding happiness that transcends being in love. This kind of love feeds the soul like a hearty main course feeds the body. On the other hand, I realize that the best of meals begins with expendable but tasty hors d'oeuvres and concludes with the foolishness of a luscious dessert. To put it another way, I have had enough of the main course for a while. There is a time for everything under heaven. For me, it is time for a bit of foolishness again: a time to buy useless gifts for my wife when there are so many things we need, like winter coats; a time to compose love notes, when bills should be paid; a time to be in love, again. Impatient Love Ever since, of course, history ha been beating them with a purse, mocking their lack of eschatologia sophistication, smirking at the mention of those dumb predictions ö and worse: patronizing them by ignore this part of their work (try to find a dictionary of church history that mentions that they held these peculiar views). I wonder, however, if they possessed something ö were possessed by something ö that I have lost and that makes me the lesser for the lack of it. When I lead a Bible study or preach a sermon, I approach the Bible with the sophistication that this age demands, using all the tools of modern biblical scholarship, tools that these men had no access to. I doubtless understand many biblical truth's better than they. I pore through tomes of theological and ethical reflection on the pressing issues of the day, like abortion, or apartheid. I understand many subtle complexities of the world of which they were never aware. But am I, to put it awkwardly, in love with Christ as they were? I remain steadfastly suspicious of preachers who predict the Second Coming of Christ at the drop of an international crisis. I know it has been wrongly predicted a thousand times before. I know that no reasonable or compassionate Christian lets Christ's return dominate his or her mind when there is so much to be done for the needy today. But I think it is time to fall in love again. Naturally, I cannot go back and simply repeat the things I did as a young lover. I am a different person from what I was then. And I do not know exactly what form my foolishness will take. But I am sure it will include bouts of eager impatience as I wonder what it will be like to see my lover again. Better stay clear of my front door. Mark Galli is associate editor of LEADERSHIP Journal.
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