For reasons yet enigmatic to historians, Moscow in 1812 was surrendered to the invading French as its inhabitants fled north east to St. Petersburg and all other points north. Then, in a fateful lumbering lurch Napoleon's hoard collapsed wearily onto the vacated couches of Moscow. Like a workman weary from a day's energies the grenadiers fell into a languid pose only a few short months shy of a bitter Russian winter. This repose was their demise.
Tolstoy painstakingly describes the ruin of this adamant force through both essay and narrative in the second half of his timeless work; War and Peace. The following is from one of those essays:
"Though tattered, hungry, worn out, and reduced to a third of their original number, the French entered Moscow in good marching order. It was a weary and famished, but still a fighting and menacing army. But it remained an army only until its soldiers had dispersed into their different lodgings. As soon as the men of the various regiments began to disperse among the wealthy and deserted houses, the army was lost forever and there came into being something nondescript, neither citizens nor soldiers but what are known as marauders. When five weeks later these same men left Moscow, they no longer formed an army. They were a mob of marauders, each carrying a quantity of articles which seemed to him valuable or useful. The aim of each man when he left Moscow was no longer, as it had been, to conquer, but merely to keep what he had acquired. Like a monkey which puts its paw into the narrow neck of a jug, and having seized a handful of nuts will not open its fist for fear of losing what it holds, and therefore perishes, the French when they left Moscow had inevitably to perish because they carried their loot with them, yet to abandon what they had stolen was as impossible for them as it is for the monkey to open its paw and let go of its nuts. Ten minutes after each regiment had entered a Moscow district, not a soldier or officer was left. Men in military uniforms and Hessian boots could be seen through the windows, laughing and walking through the rooms. In cellars and storerooms similar men were busy among the provisions, and in the yards unlocking or breaking open coach house and stable doors, lighting fires in kitchens and kneading and baking bread with rolled-up sleeves, and cooking; or frightening, amusing, or caressing women and children. There were many such men both in the shops and houses- but there was no army."
And thus continues the trend ultimately decimating the French forces, not as a result of battle, but poignantly in the very absence of a confrontation with the enemy. When the disciplined companies abandoned their purpose, they fell predictably into an individualistic mob demonstrating the true nature of humanism and moral decay. They were never again assembled into any resemblance of their former glory.
As a follower of Jesus Christ we face the same peril. How many times have I grieved for the spiritual ruin of a friend who, once evidently contending for the faith, has in times of ease and repose settled too deeply into perceived peacetime comforts? How many times have I moved from Christian soldier to marauder? Though at moments the cannon fire dies down and the enemy recoils, we are fools to forget that the battle exists around us. That is our reality, and our relationship to this created space and time. We exist within a battle. If at any time we acquiesce to the weakness of our flesh and expose an apathetic - or worse, arrogant - flank to our enemy, then an advance against our moral battle lines should not be unexpected.
Photo from here.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
A Present Help
I turned on the radio while driving through Concord this morning to be greeted by an apathetic female voice listing off the news stories of the day. "The four Americans being held by Somali pirates were killed earlier this morning..." was all I heard. I quickly turned off the radio and stared blankly through the windshield at crystal clear skies not unlike those in the internet thumbnail photo behind the smiling faces of Jean and Scott Adam adrift on the S/V Quest.
Only yesterday I had been reading the developing story of their plight, the U.S. warships monitoring the situation, and the compelling fact that they were known to be Christians carrying Bibles to distribute in oppressive lands. One story even went so far as to state the relative insignificance of the Bibles and their faith to the situation since, "...the pirates...are not hardline Islamists." We may never know whether the Bibles played a role in their unlikely demise or not.
But the Bibles made a difference to me. I had breathed a prayer for them upon hearing the first accounts, and then breathed another more plaintive prayer upon learning of the repulsive resolution. Repulsive to me.
Was this course of events repulsive to the Master of the seas as well? The foul filth of a fallen planet must always be repulsive to the Creator. Yet I'm certain he was was not repulsed by the chain of events, and much to the contrary, was very near and faithfully present there.
My girls were both on the verge of illness Sunday morning, and I'm recovering from a knee injury, so I held church with my 7 year old in the living room while Bec went on to church. We read Psalm 46.
1 God is our refuge and strength,
A very present help in trouble.
2 Therefore we will not fear,
Even though the earth be removed,
And though the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea;
3 Though its waters roar and be troubled,
Though the mountains shake with its swelling. Selah
I took time to work the various angles of "present," "fear," "refuge," and "strength" in order to coax these pertinent truths through a 2nd grade mind.
I couldn't help thinking of these verses as I pondered that fateful final voyage for the Adams. Their "earth was removed" and their "waters roared," and some would say that God was not "a very present help" in their trouble. Humanity is chronically short sighted.
This wealthy couple from beautiful Santa Monica, California, aboard a beautiful Yacht must have left a fortune behind. What wonderful people and what tragic loss. Such wealth abandoned.
But the wealth, the wonder, and the yacht were not lost to pirates. It seems they were not even the property of the Adams. Rather, as should be the case in the lives of all Christians, the material forfeiture and submission of life must have occurred long before the pirates were first spotted on the horizon. It seems the Adams had already passed the possession of these on to Another. Their possessions and their mission were in the hands of their Present Help.
When God is our strength, our refuge, and always present, and when we have submitted the charts and direction of our life to the Master, it should be a small step indeed through the gates of heaven.
I firmly believe the Creator was present on that yacht, and with Him the peace that passes understanding.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Tolstoy on Politicians
Count Feodor Rostopchin - governor of Moscow and historical fool, found himself alone in a world not unlike that in which many politicians find themselves - created for and by themselves. Leo Tolstoy describes the conflicted position Rostopchin has established and was thus abandoned into, as the Russian capitol is emptied in anticipation of Napoleon's anticlimactic entrance. The Count is utterly disconnected from those whom he should be leading. To this, Tolstoy provides the following insight:
"In quiet and untroubled times it seems to every administrator that it is only by his efforts that the whole population under his rule is kept going, and in this consciousness of being indispensable every administrator finds the chief reward of his labor and efforts. While the sea of history remains calm the ruler-administrator in his frail bark, holding on with a boat hook to the ship of the people and himself moving, naturally imagines that his efforts move the ship he is holding on to. But as soon as a storm arises and the sea begins to heave and the ship to move, such a delusion is no longer possible. The ship moves independently with its own enormous motion, the boat hook no longer reaches the moving vessel, and suddenly the administrator, instead of appearing a ruler and a source of power, becomes an insignificant, useless, feeble man."
War and Peace Part 11, Chapter 25
Another First
Yes, I'm starting another blog. I feel it's time to start writing on a different level than much of what is written in Cycling Through. There is so much that should be said and so much said that shouldn't be, that I start a second blog with hesitancy. I don't know which side the content I hope to post will fall on. I truly hope that what is found here will be worth my time to write and worth your time to read.
What is the content I hope to lay out?
To answer that, I'll answer the unasked question regarding the meaning behind the name of the blog. "Lamp Lit"
To begin, I think I've managed to create a blog title with a couple of meaningful interpretations.
1. "Your word is lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path." says the Psalmist. I predict that my thoughts in regard to God's word and works, and the effect they have on my life will be expanded here. I hope that my way will continue to be lit by the lamp of God's word.
2. When you want to sit down for a few moments beneath a good book, where is it that you hope to land with book in hand? How about a soft leather sofa in a den with fireplace and wood paneling? Sounds inviting to me. Of course no sane interior designer would put track lighting or an ostentatious overhead light in such a space. Rather, at the end of the sofa stands a mission style table on which rests a picture of my lovely wife and a carved table lamp with a modest taupe cloth shade. The firelight and a singular 60 watt bulb are the lone sources of light, when, on a blustery evening I retire with Leo Tolstoy to hear more of Napoleon and Czar Alexander. To best appreciate romantic literature, a romantic atmosphere is a must. (This I say in supposition, since I currently have only the sofa noted in the above description.) For a romantic atmosphere, lamp lighting is also a must.
This long explanation leads then to this: I anticipate also, that other literary works will inspire much content found here. Thus, the play on the word "literature" in the title - Lamp Lit.
And so in describing the origin of my title, I have likewise described the anticipated content of this blog. I hope that we (you who choose to navigate here, and I) will find mutual enjoyment in those thoughts arising from what others have have kindly composed before.
What is the content I hope to lay out?
To answer that, I'll answer the unasked question regarding the meaning behind the name of the blog. "Lamp Lit"
To begin, I think I've managed to create a blog title with a couple of meaningful interpretations.
1. "Your word is lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path." says the Psalmist. I predict that my thoughts in regard to God's word and works, and the effect they have on my life will be expanded here. I hope that my way will continue to be lit by the lamp of God's word.
2. When you want to sit down for a few moments beneath a good book, where is it that you hope to land with book in hand? How about a soft leather sofa in a den with fireplace and wood paneling? Sounds inviting to me. Of course no sane interior designer would put track lighting or an ostentatious overhead light in such a space. Rather, at the end of the sofa stands a mission style table on which rests a picture of my lovely wife and a carved table lamp with a modest taupe cloth shade. The firelight and a singular 60 watt bulb are the lone sources of light, when, on a blustery evening I retire with Leo Tolstoy to hear more of Napoleon and Czar Alexander. To best appreciate romantic literature, a romantic atmosphere is a must. (This I say in supposition, since I currently have only the sofa noted in the above description.) For a romantic atmosphere, lamp lighting is also a must.
This long explanation leads then to this: I anticipate also, that other literary works will inspire much content found here. Thus, the play on the word "literature" in the title - Lamp Lit.
And so in describing the origin of my title, I have likewise described the anticipated content of this blog. I hope that we (you who choose to navigate here, and I) will find mutual enjoyment in those thoughts arising from what others have have kindly composed before.
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