Accept the embrace of the complex wonder of a moment

On Tuesday we celebrated the two hundredth anniversary of the birth of Charles Dickens. I fell under the spell of Dickens's writing during my thirteenth summer. Before our family vacation I noticed a book with small print that I assumed would take me a while to read and purchased for sixty cents (ten cents more than my weekly allowance) a paperback copy of Hard Times. My mother insisted that I not read during the day because she wanted me to play outside. So in bed at night with a flashlight I opened to chapter one and read:

Now what I want is the Facts. Teach these boys and girls nothing but Facts. Facts alone are wanted in life. Plant nothing else, and root out everything else. You can only form the minds of reasoning animals upon Facts: nothing else will ever be of any service to them. This is the principle on which I bring up my own children, and this is the principle on which I bring up these children. Stick to the Facts, Sir!

What a deliciously true and deceptively false statement. I reread and pondered that opening paragraph for quite some time before continuing. Even without knowing why or how, I understood that this was a book to savor more than finish, words to chew before swallowing, thoughts meant not simply to entertain but to form. Some of my most profound journeys began that summer evening.

Many novels, songs, and poems entertain and/or delight, but thanks be to God for those that challenge us not to tread lightly over what they say and mean. Many speeches and sermons amuse and/or inform, but thanks be to God for those that change who we are. Clichés and repetitive phrases have their place, but thanks be to God for musicians, orators, novelists, preachers, and other artists who invite and compel us to think, reflect, consider, grow.

So much of what and how we now communicate is relatively quick and simple. Emails and texts have replaced most letters and notes. The volume clearly has increased. What about the depth? I do not desire to turn back the clock. With email I can contact more people in an afternoon than I could have reached in a week not long ago. I appreciate and depend on that. Yet, all that now happens in an instant only increases our need to take time to accept and offer words and images to savor, dwell on, masticate, contemplate. Life is too short and our potential is too vast always to rush from word to word, event to event, commitment to commitment. Deep joy and meaning regularly come not as we rush to the finish, but as we accept the embrace of the complex wonder of a moment and allow it to awaken, enrich, and expand who we are.

Thank you, Charles Dickens, for teaching me to expect more of those who vie for my attention and of myself. Thank you for making me aware that some works are to fathom more than finish, that the comfort of clarity may obscure the wonder of ambiguity, and that time spent thinking often takes us where feeling alone cannot go.

Friends, take time not simply to complete a task but to ponder why it matters and how it shapes us. Expect the same of others. Such moments may seem to accomplish little, but the foundation they lay endures.

Grace and Peace,

LP