Yesterday at one point my thoughts strayed to thinking about work I’ve done in the past and found myself thinking that I may now be mature enough to be a responsible young teenager. Sadly I don’t get to switch to be one, I’m stuck in an older body I don’t think I deserve.
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(268) Providence
People talk about special providences. I believe in the providences, but not in the specialty. I do not believe that God lets the thread of my affairs go for six days, and on the seventh evening takes it up for a moment. The so-called special providences are no exception to the rule—they are common to all men at all moments. But it is a fact that God’s care is more evident in some instances of it than in others to the dim and often bewildered vision of humanity. Upon such instances men seize and call them providences. It is well that they can; but it would be gloriously better if they could believe that the whole matter is one grand providence.
As found in MacDonald’s “Annals of a Quiet Neighborhood” Chapter 1.
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Heartily agree.
(269) Ordinariness
And over all, the sun hung in the sky, pouring down life; shining on the roots of the willows at the bottom of the stream; lighting up the black head of the water-rat as he hurried across to the opposite bank; glorifying the rich green lake of the grass; and giving to the whole an utterance of love and hope and joy, which was, to him who could read it, a more certain and full revelation of God than any display of power in thunder, in avalanche, in stormy sea. Those with whom the feeling of religion is only occasional, have it most when the awful or grand breaks out of the common; the meek who inherit the earth, find the God of the whole earth more evidently present—I do not say more present, for there is no measuring of His presence—more evidently present in the commonest things. That which is best He gives most plentifully, as is reason with Him. Hence the quiet fulness of ordinary nature; hence the Spirit to them that ask it.
As found in MacDonald’s “Annals of a Quiet Neighborhood” Chapter 3.
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(270) Forgiveness
And I prayed my God that He would make me able to speak good common heavenly sense to my people, and forgive me for feeling so cross and proud towards the unhappy old lady—for I was sure she was not happy—and make me into a rock which swallowed up the waves of wrong in its great caverns, and never threw them back to swell the commotion of the angry sea whence they came. Ah, what it would be actually to annihilate wrong in this way!—to be able to say, it shall not be wrong against me, so utterly do I forgive it! How much sooner, then, would the wrong-doer repent, and get rid of the wrong from his side also! But the painful fact will show itself, not less curious than painful, that it is more difficult to forgive small wrongs than great ones. Perhaps, however, the forgiveness of the great wrongs is not so true as it seems. For do we not think it is a fine thing to forgive such wrongs, and so do it rather for our own sakes than for the sake of the wrongdoer? It is dreadful not to be good, and to have bad ways inside one.
As found in MacDonald’s “Annals of a Quiet Neighborhood” Chapter 5.
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Answers to prayer are special providences. It’s too bad old George Mac apparently was not familiar with another George M of his era, the godly man George Müller. The former would have had a way different perspective on prayer and providence if he had been. And then there are Maggie Eriksson and Glenn Morton, to name just two known here who know the reality of God’s interventions. (There might be some more I could name. 
)
That reply made my day. 
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Perhaps so! I get the feeling, though, that GM was trying to elevate the omnipresence of God’s providence more than trying to denigrate instances of it that are special and precious to us. Besides … how do you know that GM wasn’t familiar with the other GM? It looks like their lives would have overlapped.
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(271) Visitors
So when Mrs Pearson knocked at the door, and told me that a lady and gentleman had called, I shut my book which I had just opened, and kept down as well as I could the rising grumble of the inhospitable Englishman, who is apt to be forgetful to entertain strangers, at least in the parlour of his heart. And I cannot count it perfect hospitality to be friendly and plentiful towards those whom you have invited to your house—what thank has a man in that?—while you are cold and forbidding to those who have not that claim on your attention. That is not to be perfect as our Father in heaven is perfect. By all means tell people, when you are busy about something that must be done, that you cannot spare the time for them except they want you upon something of yet more pressing necessity; but TELL them, and do not get rid of them by the use of the instrument commonly called THE COLD SHOULDER. It is a wicked instrument …
As found in MacDonald’s “Annals of a Quiet Neighborhood” Chapter 5.
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Mac’s take on prayer and providence is certainly more impersonal than Müller’s and seems ignorant of it! It seems to me that the latter’s is the one to emulate… not to mention his work with orphans! And that was my point about them being of the same era.
Well … hey now! I have pictures of myself - sometimes glowering, and sometimes (more rarely) with a pleasant smile. I hope you don’t ever take the worst of me to compare with the best of someone else! That said, maybe Mac just wasn’t photogenic … many of us aren’t.
Yeah - Muller seems like an interesting character (just from my wikipedia perusal earlier today) - the work with orphans and such being great testimony to his character! If you delve into any of his writings or other outlooks on life that make for an interesting contrast with Mac, I’ll be interested to hear it!
Meanwhile, this isn’t a beauty pageant for theologians or authors - I’m guessing that neither GM would be interested in being entered into some competition over “who’s the better Christian”. At least I’m pretty sure Mac would be horrified with the thought - and it sounds like Muller would be too.
All that said … Your GM’s beard doesn’t hold a candle to Mac’s! 
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It’s not a competition, but maybe about wisdom, whom time is best spent with, prioritizing, which one will teach us more about how God answers prayer in providential reality, not just philosophical musings? (And there is a difference between trimmed and what might characterized as unkempt… the individual’s lifestyle and activities being a factor of course, which one a wee orphan might more easily grab and hang from. ; - )
That smile would worry me if I were buying a car from him 
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Only if it were a used car.
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(272) Prose
My own conviction is, that the poetry is far the deepest in us, and that the prose is only broken-down poetry; and likewise that to this our lives correspond. The poetic region is the true one, and just, THEREFORE, the incredible one to the lower order of mind; for although every mind is capable of the truth, or rather capable of becoming capable of the truth, there may lie ages between its capacity and the truth. As you will hear some people read poetry so that no mortal could tell it was poetry, so do some people read their own lives and those of others.
As found in MacDonald’s “Annals of a Quiet Neighborhood” Chapter 7.
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Hm, that’s a really interesting quote!
I wish I were more appreciative of poetry. I think that sometimes, we miss things by social media–when our ancestors relied more on word of mouth, that was a way to really convey more than words.
Thanks.
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Or they quote mine what they take to be the fact nuggets and reject beauty and feeling as so much flotsam as if anything created was waste.
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To any who think GM was ‘soft’ on sin, they should read this … It is a hard one for me to swallow; especially the bolded portion which was what Lewis exclusively chose to quote. Providing the context for the remark does soften it some, I think. But still, the hard edges of the Lewis selection do provoke some reflection for me.
(273) Integrity
“You are more honest than most of your profession,” he said. “But I am far more pleased to offer you the guinea upon the smallest doubt of your having won it.”
“I have no claim upon it.”
“What! Couldn’t you swallow a small scruple like that for the sake of the poor even? Well, I don’t believe YOU could.—Oblige me by taking this guinea for some one or other of your poor people. But I AM glad you weren’t sure of that last book. I am indeed.”
I took the guinea, and put it in my purse.
“But,” he resumed, “you won’t do, Mr Walton. You’re not fit for your profession. You won’t tell a lie for God’s sake. You won’t dodge about a little to keep all right between Jove and his weary parishioners. You won’t cheat a little for the sake of the poor! You wouldn’t even bamboozle a little at a bazaar!”
“I should not like to boast of my principles,” I answered; “for the moment one does so, they become as the apples of Sodom. But assuredly I would not favour a fiction to keep a world out of hell. The hell that a lie would keep any man out of is doubtless the very best place for him to go to. It is truth, yes, The Truth that saves the world.”
“You are right, I daresay. You are more sure about it than I am though.”
“Let us agree where we can,” I said, “first of all; and that will make us able to disagree, where we must, without quarrelling.”
As found in MacDonald’s “Annals of a Quiet Neighborhood” Chapter 9.
It didn’t escape my notice that apparently “Mr. Walton” found his integrity satisfied by his putting forward his objection into the open … more so than the actual refusal of the money - which did end up in his purse after all! Maybe not quite so hard-edged as the bolded portion by itself implied!
Meh. I love much poetry, certainly not all. It is a different form of human expression among many others. To describe prose as broken-down poetry is a silly prejudice of the Romantic Era (of which MacDonald was on the tail end). They are different and serve different purposes, communicate differently.
For example:
In the last few years at work, I’ve worked a lot with writing and art produced by prisoners. Poetry by a really fine poet like Ethridge Knight delivers a kick in the gut about life behind bars, that the person on the outside can’t image. But it’s short lived and forgettable. Layer that with prisoner-written newspapers of different kinds, DOC reports on prisons, art made by prisoners, bios of the artists, articles about prisons, information about the Innocence Project and on and on. Then you get a much fuller view – far less romantic – that includes tables of statistics, citations to laws, mediocre writing from the heart, dull bureaucratic verbiage and artwork of varying execution and taste, and more.
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