Some say we should avoid reading two new books consecutively without sandwiching an old book in between them. I agree with this rule, it just happens to be a good rule I rarely apply in practice. So when my copy of St. Athanasius’ On the Incarnation (St. Vladimir’s Press, 1977) arrived yesterday, I dove in, partly out of curiosity, but mostly out of guilt for my disproportionate time reading new books lately, and in hopes that an especially old book (originally written in c. AD 318) would make up for my negligence.

At the outset let me say the book’s title is a bit misleading. Athanasius covers the Incarnation well but he sets the incarnation within the contexts of creation, the imago Dei, the fall, redemption, and the consummation of all things while at the same time showing how the Incarnation relates to the full scope of our Savior’s life and work—from his birth, throughout his life, death, resurrection, and forthcoming return. Much more could have been said on all these topics, but the theological breadth of the work is very impressive. For Athanasius the Incarnation is a gospel truth and his chapter on the cross (4: The Death of Christ) was brilliant and devotionally rich, something that came as a bit of a pleasing surprise.

When I finished the book its brevity was another impressive feature (I read it in just over 2 hours). The book is clear and pointed, and of course clear/pointed books are rarely lengthy. C.S. Lewis praised it saying, “only a master mind could, in the fourth century, have written so deeply on such a subject with such classical simplicity.” And later, “The whole book, indeed, is a picture of the Tree of Life—a sappy and golden book, full of buoyancy and confidence.” High words of praise from a man who knew a bit about good books (and bad ones).

Lewis’ introduction on the importance of reading old books (perhaps the most famous Christian introduction ever penned) was a treat at the beginning. The book closes with an appendix, a letter written by Athanasius on the importance, value, and Christ-centeredness of the Psalms. That letter was a treat at the end.

I’ve been waiting for a few years to read On the Incarnation. I finally got around to it and I confer with Lewis: this book is great.

Before you read another new book, read this one.

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Cool portrait by Zach Franzen

Martin Luther, as recorded in January 1532 by his friend Conrad Cordatus and recently translated and published in Off the Record with Martin Luther [(Hansa-Hewlett, 2009), page 110]:

“I find nothing that promotes work better than angry fervor; for when I wish to compose, write, pray and preach well, I must be angry. It refreshes my entire system, my mind is sharpened, and all unpleasant thoughts and depression fade away.”

Sometimes I like to post excerpts from literature simply because I think they model great prose skill, like this excerpt from a historical novel set in WW2, The Winds of War by Herman Wouk. Wouk fought in the Pacific and his portrayals of the war have been acclaimed for their realism and accuracy. This quote is taken from near the end of The Winds of War, and takes place after the Pearl Harbor invasion (p. 884):

The darkness was merciful to Pearl Harbor. The smashed battleships were invisible. Overhead a clear starry black sky arched, with Orion setting in the west, and Venus sparkling in the east, high above a narrow streak of red. Only the faintest smell of smoke on the sea breeze hinted at the gigantic scene of disaster below. But the dawn brightened, light stole over the harbor, and soon the destruction and the shame were unveiled once more. At first the battleships were merely vague shapes, but even before all the stars were gone, one could see the Pacific Battle Force, a crazy dim double line of sunken hulks along Ford Island—and first in the line, the U.S.S. California.

Victor Henry turned his face from the hideous sight to the indigo arch of the sky, where Venus and the brightest stars still burned: Sirius, Capella, Procyon, the old navigation aids. The familiar religious awe came over him, the sense of a Presence above this pitiful little earth. He could almost picture God the Father looking down with sad wonder at this mischief. In a world so rich and lovely, could his children find nothing better to do than to dig iron from the ground and work it into vast grotesque engines for blowing each other up? Yet this madness was the way of the world. He has given all his working years to it. Now he was about to risk his very life at it. Why?

That is a picturesque and moving scene, one of many from Wouk’s writings. I look forward to reading his better-known War and Remembrance sometime in 2011 (DV), but after reading this article in The Paris Review I decided that my next historical fiction read would be The Long Ships by Frans Bengtsson, which I hope to begin this weekend.

Are you reading any good literature? Did you read a great book earlier this summer? If you have any great excerpts to share please post those in the comments for us all to enjoy.

Writes Eckhard J. Schnabel in his chef-d’œuvre, Early Christian Mission, Volume 2: Paul and the Early Church (IVP, 2004), pages 1574-1575:

“I submit that the use of the term ‘incarnational’ is not very helpful to describe the task of authentic Christian missionary work. The event of the coming of Jesus into the world is unique, unrepeatable and incomparable, making it preferable to use other terminology to express the attitudes and behavior that Paul describes in 1 Cor 9:19-23. The Johannine missionary commission in Jn 20:21 does not demand an ‘incarnation’ of Jesus’ disciples but rather their obedience, unconditional commitment and robust activity in the service of God and in the power of the Holy Spirit. It is precisely John who describes the mission of Jesus as unique: Jesus is the ‘only’ Son (Jn 1:14, 18; 3:14, 18), he is preexistent (Jn 1:1, 14), his relationship to the Father is unparalleled (Jn 1:14, 18). For John, it is not the manner of Jesus’ coming into the world, the Word becoming flesh, the incarnation, that is a ‘model’ for believers; rather, it is the nature of Jesus’ relationship to the Father who sent him into the world, which is one of obedience to and dependence upon the Father. … The terms ‘contextualization’ or ‘inculturation’ certainly are more helpful.”

Writes Herman Bavinck in Our Reasonable Faith, page 44:

“In determining the value of general revelation, one runs the great danger either of over-estimating or of under-estimating it. When we have our attention fixed upon the richness of the grace which God has given in His special revelation, we sometimes become so enamored of it that the general revelation loses its whole significance and worth for us. And when, at another time, we reflect on the good, and true, and beautiful that is to be found by virtue of God’s general revelation in nature and in the human world, then it can happen that the special grace, manifested to us in the person and work of Christ, loses its glory and appeal for the eye of our soul. This danger, to stray off either to the right or to the left, has always existed in the Christian church.”

Do you watch the movements of your hands as you read a printed book? Maybe not. I don’t. Perhaps that’s why I was intrigued by this video:

When all exposed the gestures are a bit odd aren’t they? What comes to mind as you watch this video?

I’m reading a bit of Alan Jacobs these days. Jacobs is a very gifted writer and when gifted writers talk about the books that have shaped them I listen, with both ears, a pen, an open moleskin and with a powered-up mp3 recorder [(if I have one in my backpack (usually the case)]. Here’s his list (see his full blog post here):

Age 6: The Golden Book of Astronomy

Age 10: Robert A. Heinlein, Tunnel in the Sky

Age 14: Arthur C. Clarke, Childhood’s End

Age 16: Loren Eiseley, The Night Country

Age 20: William Faulkner, Absalom, Absalom!

Age 22: The Philosophy of Paul Ricoeur

Age 24: W. H. Auden, The Dyer’s Hand

Age 30: Mikhail Bakhtin, The Dialogic Imagination

Age 35: Lesslie Newbigin, The Gospel in a Pluralist Society

Age 38: W. H. Auden, “Horae Canonicae”

From J.B. Phillips’ book, Is God at Home?:

Every year in the harvest fields of England there are thousands of little tragedies. The victims are those charming little creatures the harvest mice.

Earlier in the year the growing corn seems to them to be the ideal place in which to settle and bring up a family. Food, shelter and building-material are there in plenty, and everything seems perfectly adapted for their needs. The forest of innumerable cornstalks is their whole world, and in it they court and play, mate and bring up their families. Their happiness seems to be complete.

Until the Harvest. For when the day comes for the owner of the field to reap his harvest, tragedy inevitably begins for the harvest-mouse. The whole world of waving corn which seemed so snug and secure, so specially designed for his comfort and nourishment, comes crashing about his ears. The field which he thought was his world never really belonged to him at all, and the fact that the growing corn was not meant for his food and shelter has, alas, not entered his tiny head.

The life of the harvest-mouse is not a bad picture of the way in which some people live in this world. They too work and play, court and get married, bring up children in the happy belief that it is their world, and that to believe in an eventual ‘harvest’ is old-fashioned and silly. Yet Jesus Christ, who claimed to be the Son of God, said quite plainly that this world is like a field that belongs to God and that it is moving inevitably towards a Harvest. You can read His words about it in Matthew 13:22-43. For this little world is not, as some imagine, a permanent thing at all. When God decides that His great Experiment has gone on long enough, He will reap the Harvest. To quote Christ’s words: “The harvest is the end of the world.”

The field mouse is deceived because for months he is left to his own devices. He never sees the owner of the field and naturally knows nothing of the coming harvest. Many people allow themselves to be deceived because God, the Owner of the world, does not put in an appearance, and for the purposes of the Experiment we call Life does not interfere with man’s power to choose. Many of them imagine that the ‘field’ belongs to man and that there is no such thing as an eventual ‘harvest.’

But if Christ really was, as He claimed to be, God, then His statement about this world being an experimental field with an inevitable harvest should surely be most seriously considered. No one could blame the little harvest-mouse for not realizing the true purpose of the cornfield or the certainty of the eventual reaping. But what are we–mice or men?

[HT: Tom Bombadil]

Alan Jacobs, in an interview with Ken Myers, as recorded in back matter of Jacob’s excellent book, The Narnian: The Life and Imagination of C. S. Lewis [(HarperCollins, 2005), page 349,] said:

“…almost everything that Lewis really cared about and that he deeply believed in, almost everything that he thought was vital for us to know, no matter how scholarly, no matter how intellectual, found its way somehow into the Narnia books—to a shocking degree, actually. You wouldn’t think that he would be able to get all that stuff into a series of what are, after all, relatively brief books for children, and yet he did.”

For months I’ve eagerly awaited the release of Fred G. Zaspel’s book The Theology of B. B. Warfield: A Systematic Summary (Crossway, Sept. 30, 2010). Over the past two weeks I have been reading a copy of the book and it reminds me how thankful I am for able theologians who can break down the writings of a theological giant. Zaspel is doing this for me with Warfield. Not only is the systematic approach very thoughtful and very well executed, Zaspel also scatters within his summary many rich (and often devotional) quotes from Warfield’s works. Here’s just one example (page 300; from Warfield’s works, 2:434–435):

Christianity did not come into the world to proclaim a new morality and, sweeping away all the supernatural props by which men were wont to support their trembling, guilt-stricken souls, to throw them back on their own strong right arms to conquer a standing before God for themselves. It came to proclaim the real sacrifice for sin which God had provided in order to supersede all the poor fumbling efforts which men had made and were making to provide a sacrifice for sin for themselves; and, planting men’s feet on this, to bid them go forward. It was in this sign that Christianity conquered, and it is in this sign alone that it continues to conquer. We may think what we will of such a religion. What cannot be denied is that Christianity is such a religion.

Beautiful.