How can we sink into an appreciation of beauty and goodness when there is so much ugliness and pain in the world? How can we eat well, paying attention to aesthetics as much as nutrition, when so many starve? How can we go on elaborate vacations when millions will live short lives within a circle of a few miles of their birthplaces? What do an appreciation of poetry and music and art have at all to do with the everyday desperate problems of billions?
This post does not ultimately present an answer to these questions, except to say that, perhaps, fundamentally beauty and goodness remind us that this is a good world, that it is a world that is worth redeeming. I think that it is entirely appropriate, then, that we appreciate, partake of, and create beauty and goodness where ever we may, to even expend resources of time and money to this end. The trick, though, is to know that these are truly but foretastes and that we also must work to invite others, to bring others, to the Feast. And this will certainly also require paying attention to how we use our resources. I don’t have any guidelines, really, except to turn down the messages of our culture, pay attention to what the Bible says about money and possessions, and to listen to the Spirit.
Here is an old work about the same themes. It was written in Pakistan in 1993, just after I had finished reading Anne of Green Gables for the first time. OK, since I have already confessed that, I might as well go ahead and say that I eventually read the entire set of 6 (the seventh somehow wasn’t in that set), though I only really remember the first three. This poem has appeared on the blog before and is a bit archaic in its style and, er, not very subtle, but I still like it.
Avonlea
In Avonlea, a gentle breeze
Blows softly through mid-summer leaves,
And tickles ripples from the lake,
Then playful dances on its way.
In Africa, no breath of breeze
To comfort wraith-like, naked trees,
To blow back life to fill the lakes,
And drive the stench of death away.
Does God reside in Avonlea;
In bright and good His rule confine,
While death and night unchallenged rule
Without the bounds of sovereignty?
Or, did He share the agony
To hear discord in His symphony,
Forsake pure joy to take on pain,
Anemic of His majesty?
I will cherish life’s Avonleas
As foretastes of eternity,
But not lift long their joyous cup,
Lest, giddy, shun the cup He took.
I’m thankful for your post Neil. As a poem, I appreciate how it invites the reader to grapple with a difficult question. I would say that the power of the piece comes from the sincere declaration in the last four lines.
As far as the question goes, I agree it is REALLY challenging to know how much of our time should be devoted to cherishing “Avonleas” and how much time we should be setting aside the “joyous cup”. There is no denying that we live in a culture that encourages us to build our lives around seeking pleasure and comfort, and by worldly standards it seems ludicrous to seek anything else! At the same time, I don’t want to deny enjoying God’s extravagant gifts-whether they come in the form of fellowship or meditating on the beauty of creation (I now take this moment to beg you to get a new camera to assist me in the latter and actually the former too!). Personally, I feel guilty from the times I have denied entering arid places because of my selfish desire to escape in the world’s beauty. Please God help me learn how to balance feasting and fasting. Ultimately, we want to be a people that lovingly invite others to your feast!
Blessings Neil.
Hey Neil!
Do you think you could help me figure out some things on my new blog?
They have this “help” page, but Can somebody PLS help a dyslexic girl out!!! DUDE! That part is pretty overwhelming to an LD girl.
Can you help me?
PS: dont drink & drive ab-rollers.