Augustine

Flora

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The grass grown here is named for St. Augustine—
The Florida one, not the church father,
Though the bishop’s name befits this place. Lust in
Its past plagues its present, and souls bother
With all manner of “wisdom” while the truth
Beckons from the lips of Christians homegrown
And transplanted into the hard soil. Youth
Still steal pears, or citrus here. On their own,
One might think it impossible they’d find
Their way from Desire. The city of God
Is near and far. Yet the Father is kind,
Answering Monica’s pray’rs, making sod
Like Sodom’s sprout blades of grass that grow strong
And vines that produce fruit further along.

Photo by Mitch Hodiono on Unsplash

Wants

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We want but are not satisfied in gain,
And so we gain new wants to add to old.
This futile journey is an old refrain
Of wants too weak to trust the Story told.
“Our hearts are restless till they rest in thee,”
The saint once wrote, and still his words resound.
They ring from Africa across the sea,
True both on foreign and familiar ground.
For we were wrought to reckon with our ends,
To know the purpose t’ward which passion points:
Temp’ral desires call for that which transcends;
What leads to life divides marrow and joints.
O LORD, align our wanting with your will,
And turn our hearts to you and so fulfill.

Photo by Priscilla Du Preez on Unsplash

The quoted line above refers to a line from Augustine’s Confessions.

The Signpost of the Imperfect

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C. S. Lewis penned something that has long confused me. In Mere Christianity, one of his most influential works, he wrote,

If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world.
– C. S. Lewis, Mere Christianity

While I don’t disagree with him, I’ve never truly understood what he was getting at. I always wrestled with his point here, trying to accept it without truly comprehending it. But recently, I think it’s begun to dawn on me. Continue reading →

Truth and Heresy

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There never was a “then” when Christ was not,
Only begotten God of God on high.
The Gospel story ever was the plot:
The spotless Lamb for spotted sheep to die.
By nature, men do sin and stand in need
And lack the merit morally required.
And thus, the holy call, “Take up and read,”
Can offer life so lovingly acquired.
The Word was written that we might not sin,
That living branches might bear fruit for life.
Yet when we falter, there is hope again
As Christ called Peter thrice from Peter’s strife.
We read and write for right theology,
That saints would not be swayed by heresy.

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