In Response to "Vacillation"

Hi everybody! :D

     I hope that you have all been enjoying yourselves! :) I apologize for the delay in posting this. Last week we were busy enjoying our visiting aunt and gallivanting around the state, and this week has been full of errands and preparations for a move (which will hopefully take place this weekend -- yay! :D).

     The last post was a little open-ended, I think. Now, though, we can finally tie up the subject. :) Last time, we basked in a few powerful lines from W.B. Yeats' poem, "Vacillation." For what it was worth, I also offered a few thoughts on the poet's worldview, claiming that in this excerpt alone there was sufficient evidence to conclude that Yeats was not a nihilist. Indeed, he seemed to be quite far from it.

    Perhaps you reacted to these noble verses the same way that I did. Perhaps your heart thrilled with inspiration and strength. You may have looked on the poet anew, as a brave man, an honorable man, a towering and vibrant spirit.

    I wish that I could have spoken with Yeats. Not that I would have anything particularly valuable to say, or that I could say it well. What Christ has to say, though, is exceedingly valuable. It is what every person needs to hear, about the way we approach death, and about the measuring rod we use to weigh the worthiness of all our endeavors. At this point, from the struggle with Christianity apparent in his work, I'm afraid Yeats might have simply tuned out of our hypothetical conversation. I hope that he embraced it in the end, however, since it is the fullest, brightest, and grandest approach that a human can have towards death.

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(Via Blue Ghost)

    "Seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things shall be added to you." (Matthew 6:33 NKJV)

    "Let us hear the conclusion of the whole matter:
        Fear God and keep His commandments,
        For this is man's all.
        For God will bring every work into judgment,
        Including every secret thing,
        Whether good or evil." (Ecclesiastes 12:13, 14)

     "He has shown you, O man, what is good;
     And what does the Lord require of you
     But to do justly,
     To love mercy,
     And to walk humbly with your God?" (Micah 6:8)

     "'Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.'" (Matthew 22:37)

      "Love your neighbor as yourself." (Matthew 22:39)

      I know, you've heard them before. Please go back and read them again, though. Listen to them. Really listen.
   
      These are not empty words, Yeats. Neither are they a damnation to drudgery. These are the supreme orders of the Maker and Master of the universe, the One who holds the swirling galaxies to His eye for inspection. The One who crafted effortlessly all the beauties of life that you so admire, from gargantuan, ethereal nebulae to the flawless spheres of electrons, spinning wildly in their endless dances. This One, who is making all things beautiful (Ecclesiastes 3:11), has directives for you. You laugh at the idea that the Infinite One could possibly be concerned with how you conduct yourself in your brief lifetime, but I tell you that in the perfection of His sovereign artistry, it is His will that not a single atom swerve astray. Christ Himself told us this (Matthew 10:29). You were right to think that there can be dignity in death, but it does not come through selfish pride in our finite works (which are, after all, only minuscule threads in the cosmic tapestry of His story). Our dignity comes to us through our straining and sweating as knights of His kingdom. It comes to us as the honored and glorified members of His plan, which is the grandest purpose, the most spell-binding scheme that you could possibly imagine. A magnificent structure that spans millennia, worlds, even the infinite chasms that you yourself, Yeats, have felt between souls. There is no cause more truly splendid than this. Nothing else glows so fiercely with the light of God's terrible majesty. I hope that you discovered this before the end, Yeats, because this and this alone is that for which it is truly worth dying.

Goodbye, my friend (for I hope that is what we would have been, had we met). I hope to see you at the glorious end. May your soul have felt the grandeur of hearing our Leader say, "Well done, my good and faithful servant."