A life that is centred

‘Edith was a little country bounded on the north, south, east, and west by Edith’.[1] That short sentence perfectly describes people who are egocentric, self-focused, or self-obsessed. I’ve known some like that: in love with themselves, and all too sure their wants are more important than anyone else’s needs.

Of course self-focused people have their lives centred, just very badly centred. Everything is about them. Others exist, but they’re useful only to serve number one’s desires. The self-focused are like cats, because, as the old saying goes, ‘You don’t own a cat – it owns you, and your only role is to serve the cat.’ I don’t mind that cats think like that; I’m deeply troubled when people do.

So, what is an alternative way of thinking about a life that is centred other than on self?

My answers will relate to questions like these: Who am I? Why am I here? What is my value? How should I live? How should I treat others? Those deep questions have been discussed and debated by very wise people for more years than history has recorded. I can’t match history’s greatest sages but here are my short answers to those questions.

Who am I?

I am created and loved by God; brought to birth in this world; given health and strength; privileged with education, relationship and work opportunities; helped to survive dark times; forgiven for my foolishness; surrounded by people who love and support me; blessed with a positive spirit; and grateful that I can still do good for myself and others.

That is my personal summary. I will have overstated some things, and likely left out important other things. But it’s how I see myself. Because I am a unique individual, someone else is bound to summarise their life differently.

What this happy and secure life has given me is a solid foundation. How I think of everything around me is infused with promise. The world is full of possibilities. People have potential. Change brings opportunities. The future can be better than the past. Misfortunes can be turned to advantage.

Most of the time, that positive view of my life means I am not focused inwardly but outwardly. I have been blessed, not just for my sake but so I can use my energy, gifts and opportunities to help this world become more like the world it was meant to be. I have no excuses for failing.

Why am I here?

I hear interviewers ask people ‘What do you most want in life?’ and a typical answer is ‘I just want to be happy’. That’s what ‘Edith’ would say, because personal happiness is a self-serving goal, as if everything and everyone should bring the interviewee pleasure and prosperity.

I’ve never believed that I exist to serve myself. At least, I hope not. Yes, I’ve had ambitions. I left home aged 16 to train as a journalist in Edinburgh, convinced that I would become one of the nation’s most brilliant reporters and broadcasters. Modesty was not my highest virtue. But the dream was never about my fame. The passion was to report news, share truth, give perspective, and perhaps to influence government and society. A few years later my career choice changed, and life went in a wholly different direction because I felt God wanted me in Christian ministry. I studied for many years, and then my roles became church ministry to hundreds of people, then heading up a mission agency bringing hope and help to tens of thousands, then being President of a seminary preparing gifted people to serve in caring and pastoral work right across America. Whatever the role, I consistently focused on serving others, not myself. That was my aim and I hope it still is.

So, why am I here? Not for myself, nor for any of the ordinary things people covet for themselves like fame, money, prestige, comfort or pleasure. If I’d continued in journalism – where I was doing well – I could have had these things. But they are superficial and fleeting possessions. You can’t take them with you beyond the grave. I chose to spend my time, energy and gifts on others.

What is my value?

If you enter ‘How to assess someone’s value?’ into a search engine, most of the answers you get will relate to what a person does – the career they’re following, the positions in business or politics they hold, the changes they are bringing to their community, how they visit the sick or campaign for human rights. Or any other of many activities.

But what we do should not be the primary answer about our value. Utility – usefulness – is an inadequate way of measuring any kind of value. The most expensive painting in the world is considered to be Salvator Mundi by Leonardo da Vinci – it sold for US $450.3 million in 2017. It is truly magnificent but also a completely inanimate object. Do people admire it? Yes. But ask what the painting does? The answer is nothing, absolutely nothing. Yet it’s considered to be of high value.

My point is that value should not be assessed only in terms of usefulness or productivity. In particular, a person’s worth should never be calculated that way. We have value independent of our work, our social standing, educational qualifications, achievements, race or gender. That truth lies behind Article 1 of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights: “All human beings are born free and equal in dignity and rights”.[2] I have value. You have value. Simply because of who you are, you have value.

From my Christian perspective, that value is ultimately because I am made by God. These verses in the Bible from Psalm 139 are very special:

For you created my inmost being;
    you knit me together in my mother’s womb.
14 I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
    your works are wonderful,
    I know that full well.
15 My frame was not hidden from you
    when I was made in the secret place,
    when I was woven together in the depths of the earth.
16 Your eyes saw my unformed body;
    all the days ordained for me were written in your book
    before one of them came to be. (vs.13-16)

What remarkable imagery: God knitting us in our mother’s wombs and weaving us together in the depths of the earth. And awesome to be described as ‘fearfully and wonderfully made’. How could I ever imagine I lacked value?

How should I live?

This is a tricky question, but only if we try to answer it with one moral theory supposedly applicable to everyone, no matter their background, culture, beliefs and context. Instead, it’s reasonable to suppose most people know instinctively what’s right and what’s wrong.

From ancient to modern times there have been many lists of right actions. Here are two, one from a philosopher and the other from an apostle.

In 1930 philosopher David Ross wrote down seven prima facie duties – things which he believed were self-evidently right to do. Here’s his list with explanations of what he meant:

  1. Fidelity – keeping a promise; not misrepresenting history.
  2. Reparation – putting right what you did wrong in your past.
  3. Gratitude – appreciating and expressing thanks for what others have done for you.
  4. Justice – making sure people get what they deserve.
  5. Beneficence – Using our skills or resources to give others a better life.
  6. Self-improvement – improving our character, learning, or skills to fulfil our potential.
  7. Non-maleficence – not injuring others, such as by violent acts, or verbal assaults like unfairly criticising or shaming. [3]

Ross’s list made good sense, but he was criticised because he believed all these were knowable simply by intuition. His critics pointed out that intuitions vary depending on past experience, beliefs, outlook, and values. And that’s true. But what’s also true is that all moral judgments – however they arise – vary based on background and experience.

I like Ross’s list, and I admire his courage in publishing it. But I’d probably add a few other virtues such as humility, peace-making and courage.

In a letter which now appears in the New Testament, the Apostle Paul wrote a list of the fruits of the Spirit. These nine ‘fruits‘ are also a wonderful guide to the kind of people we should be:

22…the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, 23 gentleness, and self-control.  (Galatians, 5: 22-23)

Live so these ‘fruits of the Spirit’ control your thoughts and actions, and you will not only bless others but know inner peace too.

As I said, there are other lists of virtues or commandments. The fact is that there’s no great mystery about knowing what’s right. There is, I admit, a great difficulty in consistently doing what’s right.

How should I treat others?

My father had a very long career with the Post Office, but only a very short time serving customers at Post Office counters. He hated that job intensely. The work was not difficult, but the customers were. Many of those who stood before Dad imagined one or both of two things: 1) that somehow they’d be cheated during their transaction; 2) that by being angry and aggressive they’d get prompt and better service. Dad experienced insult, abuse and distrust every day, so he would trudge home after work feeling miserable. Before long, though, he moved upwards in Post Office management, which meant relocating to backroom offices. Now he was at peace because no longer was he made miserable by miserable customers.

Wuthering Heights is the only novel by the English author Emily Brontë.[4] For me it was a hard read. I kept waiting for happy stories, but happiness is not common in Wuthering Heights. Much of the misery surrounds the main character, Heathcliff. Here is how Brontë describes Heathcliff:

“… his naturally reserved disposition was exaggerated into an almost idiotic excess of unsociable moroseness; and he took a grim pleasure, apparently, in exciting the aversion rather than the esteem of his few acquaintances.”

That does not describe a person anyone would want to know. Brontë said Heathcliff’s character had an excess of ‘moroseness’. My dictionary defines moroseness as “the state or quality of being ill-tempered, gloomy, and unwilling to speak or smile. It describes a sullen, moody, and resentful disposition.”

Heathcliff bathed in misery, bloody-mindedness, and contentiousness, freely spreading his gloom to all around, contributing almost nothing to the happiness of others.

The lives of people like that are centred very badly. Their disposition is firmly ill-natured and ill-humoured, primed by resentment, distrust, and hostility. They assume their luck is always bad, that they are constantly treated unfairly, and that their future will be one of disappointment. Bitterness and anger have moved their thinking, expectation, and experience into a dark and hostile place, and they now interpret every word spoken and every action taken as opposition or antagonism towards them. What a sad way to live.

Their lives do not have to be like that.

The first step to wholeness and happiness begins with recognising your view of the world is distorted. You see everyone and everything as hostile, unreasonable, and difficult. The second step is believing, or at least hoping, it may not always be like that. The third step is identifying things and people who are lovely, kind and good. Start with recognising the beauty of a flower, a sunset, or the adoration of a dog. Or appreciating that someone accepts you unconditionally, helping you without seeking anything in return, Or acknowledging that your life has had advantages, good events, and what lies ahead could be wonderful. The fourth step is determining to live positively, believing that good can happen, and finding happiness and contentment whatever your circumstances. Take all four steps, and your life will have been re-centred in a way that brings joy to self and others.

I’ll finish by describing a recent event. I heard the sound of running. Someone was coming up fast from behind. Before I could turn, a figure raced past me and careered on down the side of the hill. Thankfully I recognised my friend Mac, almost off his feet as he raced down the steep slope. He didn’t stop, maybe couldn’t stop, but ran and ran until the slope eased and he slowed and finally came to a halt. Then, out of breath, Mac looked from side to side, as if wondering ‘What am I doing down here?’ or ‘Where am I now?’ A bit late to be asking those questions, I thought to myself.

But Mac – my dog – isn’t brilliant at planning.[5] I often wonder what Mac is thinking, or even if he’s thinking at all. Perhaps his only ambition that day had been to run down the hill. Where would that take him? What would he do next? Not questions Mac had considered. I would advise all of us to know our answers to those questions, along with the five I’ve posed here: Who am I? Why am I here? What is my value? How should I live? How should I treat others? Find the answers, live in the light of them, and your life will be well centred.

[1] The words are quoted by H.E. Fosdick, 1943, On Being a Real Person. The description of Edith comes from novelist Martha Ostenso, “Gardenias in Her Hair,” Pictorial Review 38 (September 1937): 84. Fosdick was a famous American pastor and writer. He died in 1969, aged 91.

[2] The full Declaration can be read here: https://www.un.org/en/udhrbook/pdf/udhr_booklet_en_web.pdf

[3] These prima facie duties are to be found on pages 21-22 in Ross, W. David. 1930. ‘The Right and the Good’. Oxford: Clarendon Press.

[4] Wuthering Heights was initially published in 1847. To hide female authorship it appeared under Brontë’s pen name “Ellis Bell”.

[5] I wrote about Mac before when describing ‘unconditional love’: https://occasionallywise.com/2021/01/23/unconditional-love/

My girlfriend asked for flowers; I didn’t marry her

Alice was lovely. Attractive. A vivacious personality. Very able at performing or speaking before audiences. Great voice for radio broadcasting. Always curious, always seeking the truth. Clever. Christian faith. And – of high importance – enthusiastic about me.

But I didn’t marry Alice. Our romance lasted for one year, but I suspect we both knew after eight or nine months that it wasn’t going to be forever.

Alice and I met when we found ourselves on the same ‘summer mission’ team, organising games and activities for youngsters, hoping that through friendship and fun we’d communicate Christian faith. Alice wasn’t just good at almost everything the team did, she was very good. She could sing, perform drama, give an address, play sport, counsel troubled youngsters. It was easy to be attracted to her.

I had no idea she was attracted to me. Until one day when Alice got upset during a team gathering, and asked for people to leave so she could resolve something one way or the other. I headed for the door with everyone else, only to be told by a team member: “Don’t be an idiot. Sit down. You’re the one Alice needs to talk to”. Turned out she needed to know if I had feelings for her. Oh! How oblivious had I been? But I must have answered her question by saying something positive, and so we became a couple.

We were both in the early years of university study. We’d sit together in the library poring over our books or writing our assignments. We’d go for walks along Edinburgh’s broad streets, perhaps stopping for coffee in a café. Occasionally Alice would accompany me on a Sunday morning if I was preaching in a nearby church, and I’d find a part for her to play in the service. She was brilliant at reading or doing a solo drama. Congregations loved her.

For a while I thought I loved her too. Alice was interesting, fun, bright, spontaneous, creative, with bags of ambition. We had so many good times it was hard not to think that she and I could share life together.

Just once – after about six months – we talked about a long-term future. And Alice said, “I’m more in love with the idea of being engaged than being engaged to you”. Wow. Ten out of ten for honesty, Alice, but not in the least encouraging.

That moment should have been a huge red flag about the prospects for our relationship. But we’d got used to being together, studying together, going together to parties or to events where either of us was taking part. So the relationship continued.

Two things finally made me realise Alice and I would not have a shared future.

I’d borrowed a car so Alice and I could spend the day together away from the city. It was a good day. But, as I drove back to Edinburgh where both of us lived, I became aware that I was having to think up subjects for us to talk about. No longer were we having easy conversations, nor were we comfortable with silence. It seemed we were no longer happy just to be together.

Then we came near to the date of Alice’s birthday. With an apology, I told her that I needed to be away at that time. Alice wasn’t too upset because, after all, “you can still buy flowers and have them sent to me”. That thought had never entered my head. Not only did I not have money to send Alice flowers, I had never imagined that she’d expect flowers. I’d assumed I would give her a modest gift, but flowers? As well? Really? Yes, really.

At that moment, I realised we were people with many different expectations. We enjoyed being a couple but our lives weren’t meshing. We were not a great fit. The real issue wasn’t about flowers or no flowers. But that difference of expectations and uncomfortable conversations revealed that we were not close in the areas of life where the deepest intimacy and bonding really, really matter.

Alice and I were still a couple for a few more weeks, and then, exactly one year from the day we began our relationship, we talked honestly about how we felt, and the romance ended there and then.

No two relationships are the same because people are different. They differ in their values, expectations, desires, ambitions. We are all unique, so what fulfils, pleases, satisfies or makes me happy may be wholly unlike what you want.

However, what follows are seven snippets of advice which I believe are important for any strong relationship. I have not included ‘being in love’ as one of them. That’s for several reasons: 1) Not all cultures prioritise love the way we do in the westernised world; 2) What ‘being in love’ means is not as simple as novels and films suggest; 3) For me, true love reveals itself in what someone does, and much of what I’ve written below is exactly about that.

Attraction matters, but attraction isn’t always what we think it is. Alice was attractive, and amazingly she was attracted to me too. But good looks were never the highest priority for me. I’d felt drawn to other girls who were simply lovely to know, people with warm hearts, kind actions, bright ideas, an inner energy, and especially those who cared far more about others than themselves. Someone with deep inner qualities was always ‘attractive’ to me.

It takes time to recognise values but that’s never wasted time. For me a sizeable outlay on flowers didn’t make sense. Nor would I shop in high-end stores, or eat in expensive restaurants. I’d also have struggled to be close to someone who didn’t value reading, or friendships, or family. I was always interested too in a person’s goals or deepest desires. Were those about a great career? Or earning lots of money? Or going on luxury holidays each year? Did they value their neighbours and friends? Would they want children who enjoyed books, played sport or took other exercise, and appreciated nature? Not for a moment do I imagine anyone should set out on a first date armed with a check-list about the other person’s life goals. What a romance killer that would be. But as a couple grow closer, they will discover each other’s values. Are those values compatible? Or are they in a relationship where differences are suppressed? Misaligned values don’t just go away.

Long term relationships are built on a foundation of commitment Of course there should be attraction. And of course there should be strong feelings. I remember Bill, at one time my Australian landlord, telling me how he’d drive every morning past his fiancé’s  house just to see her smile and wave. But excitement and enthusiasm were not enough. They married, but 15 years later they were divorced. We’re persuaded by Hollywood films and romantic novels that John and Janet fall in love at first sight, and live happily ever after. What those stories miss out is the hard graft of building a strong bond, one that doesn’t fail when hard times come (which they always do). If all each of us has is a strong attraction then, when the years pass and we turn into old ‘wrinklies’, who will still love us?

A Don Francisco song describes feelings that have gone like a river run dry, and emotions have vanished that once held a thrill, but: ‘Love is not a feeling; It’s an act of your will’. That song is right. Real love is more than attraction and more than feelings, it’s a decision – a decision that no matter what we will be committed to each other.

Respect for each other In my late teens I bought a readable and helpful book called ‘I Married You’ by Walter Trobisch. It meant a lot to me at that stage of life. The section I remember to this day was called ‘Six tests of love’. One of those tests Trobisch called The respect test. Here’s what he wrote:

‘There is no real love without respect, without being able to look up to the other one.

‘A girl may admire a boy when she watches him play soccer and score all the goals. But if she asks herself the question: “Do I want this boy to be the father of my children?” very often the answer will be in the negative.

‘A boy may admire a girl when he sees her dancing. But if he asks himself the question: “Do I want this girl to be the mother of my children?” she may look very different to him.

‘Our third test question is: Do we really have enough respect for each other? Am I proud of my partner?’[1]

Beth and Dave came to me for pre-marriage counselling. They seemed ideally suited. At an appropriate moment I asked them: “Do you truly respect each other?” Dave nodded, and said “Of course!” Beth did not nod. There was an awkward silence before she turned to Dave and said “I don’t respect you. I wish I did, but I don’t”. Dave was shocked. Neither wanted to talk more about what lay behind Beth’s answer, but I suspect each of them knew. Something wasn’t right in Dave’s life, and he wasn’t doing anything about it. Did they get married? Yes, they did. And soon they moved away and I lost touch. I still wonder if they resolved the respect issue, because, if they didn’t, their marriage will have been a struggle.

A couple can’t be rivals Gerry was a pastor but his wife Kate wished she was. At that time (not now) their denomination did not allow women to be pastors, but Kate had felt called and gifted for the role. So, unable to live her dream, she chose her next best thing by marrying Gerry who was in training for ministry. Gerry also had a sense of call but his gifting was nothing like Kate’s. He finished his training, and a church invited him to be their pastor. At the event to install him to the role, Gerry spoke hesitantly for five minutes, and then Kate spoke confidently for twenty minutes. Gerry and Kate truly cared for each other – their marriage was no sham – but there was an inner tension about who could or should do the work to which both felt called. Tension between a couple is never a good thing.

A strong relationship needs ‘electricity’ Paul – a pastor in his mid-30s – felt that by now he should be married. Most of Paul’s congregation were young adults, many not married, so Paul knew he had a great prospect pool. But he had no idea about how to find his ideal wife, so he proceeded in what he thought was a logical way. He wrote out a list of the qualities he wanted in a wife – entries like his future wife should be attractive, intelligent, loving, homely, and with a desire for children. With his list done, Paul identified every young woman in his church who met his criteria. He narrowed down the ‘possibles’ until there was just one candidate – Helen. He invited Helen to have coffee, and followed up by taking her to dinner. After two months of dating Paul proposed marriage, and Helen accepted. Most of the church members were thrilled. Paul and Helen seemed ideal for each other. But less than three months later Paul broke off the engagement. Gently, I asked Paul what went wrong. He described his ‘qualities list’, how he’d chosen Helen and eventually proposed to her. But, Paul said, soon after that they realised there was a problem. “There simply wasn’t real electricity between us. We were attracted to each other, but there was no spark, no excitement, no deep desire in either of us. We simply weren’t in love, certainly not a love that would last a lifetime.”

Paul’s wants-list method of wife-seeking was inadequate and inappropriate. A woman is much more than her individual parts, beliefs, desires and qualities. That was no way to find a soul-mate. Thankfully Paul and Helen realised that in time.

A strong relationship needs more than ‘electricity’ In an earlier blog post, I wrote about commitment. Here’s part of what I said:

Years ago, I spent two weeks with a church in Santa Monica, near Los Angeles, and got to know the young adults there. One evening, after all the pizza had been eaten, we started talking about relationships and I was asked, ‘Alistair, what does “commitment” mean? We don’t understand it.’

I knew that none of the group were currently married (some had been), and many of them had lived through the divorce of their parents. Perhaps their backgrounds explained the question.

They were all dedicated movie watchers (we weren’t far from Hollywood), and many films included the romantic line ‘I have feelings for you…’ So I began with that concept of love, and explained that of course love involves feelings, but that can’t be all. Lasting love isn’t just a feeling but a decision. It’s the deep and serious decision to love someone through good times and bad times no matter what.

In other words, I told them, to love someone is a choice, one of the toughest but most wonderful choices you can ever make. That’s what commitment means.

From: How a motorcycle crash changed my life (but not in the way you think) https://occasionallywise.com/2021/06/19/

Of course attraction matters. But if attraction is all there is, then what happens to a relationship if life becomes difficult and dark?

Fay was a saint because she lived out promises to love ‘for better or for worse’ through many hard years. She’d married John just before World War II began, and, before long, John was conscripted into the army. For a long time he was stationed at army bases in the UK, and they saw each other when he had weekend leave passes. But those passes stopped in 1944. The allied forces were preparing for D-Day – the invasion of mainland Europe against the Nazi occupying powers. John landed on the Normandy beaches with his fellow-soldiers. They fought their way inland, men falling to machine gun fire on either side of John. It was day three when a mortar shell landed near to him, and John was blasted 30 feet through the air. He was badly wounded in his head, arm, chest and legs. Medics rushed him to a field hospital for emergency care and soon after he was evacuated back to a hospital in the UK. When Fay saw him she was shocked: his face had deep scars, one arm was nearly useless, his body needed several operations, and a leg was so badly broken he’d never walk again without aid. Fay never wavered. Though John was hospitalised far from home, she visited constantly. Eventually he was discharged, though several more operations were needed later. Fay cared constantly for her husband. She helped him wash himself. She supported him as he learned to walk with a crutch. Sometimes he’d fall and Fay helped him get up. John couldn’t get any ordinary job, but Fay eked out the small pay she got for a few hours of housekeeping, plus a ‘war wounded’ pension awarded to John. Somehow Fay made ends meet. Day after weary day she looked after John as faithfully as any wife could. Not only did she help make his body as strong as it could be, she built up his esteem so he knew he was still important, and gave him a good life. She did all of that for 35 years. And then John died. Some thought Fay would feel relieved her burden of care was over. Fay never had that thought even once; she wished only that she’d had 35 more years to share life with John.

That’s commitment. And if commitment is not the foundation of a deep relationship, it’ll never be more than a shadow of what it should be.

I’m going to stop here other than one last important point.

Why else did I not marry Alice? Because I met Alison, who not only fulfilled everything I’ve written about here, but who loved me and mysteriously but marvellously drew an overwhelming and lifelong love from me for her.

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What is missing from this blog post is mention of ‘shared faith’, having both your lives centred in the same belief. In our case, that faith is in God as understood by Christians. I’ll write about ‘Where is your life centred?’ as soon as I can.

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If this blog post has been useful, you might find these interesting and helpful too:

https://occasionallywise.com/2021/06/19/  (the post mentioned earlier in the text) and https://occasionallywise.com/2021/06/27/

[1] I Married You was first published in 1971 by Inter-Varsity Press. It has gone through many reprints, and is still available for purchase – the latest publisher is listed as Quiet Waters Publications. The Six Tests of Love are: The sharing test; The strength test; The respect test; The habit test; The quarrel test; The time test. Trobisch adds a final comment: “Sex is no test of love” (pages 89-92). Walter and his wife Ingrid worked for many years in Africa, and I Married You is based on lectures which the couple gave in a large African city. It is still very relevant.

Keep on keeping on

Who recorded this entry in their autobiography?

Well, my book was finally written. The next thing was to find a publisher. I typewrote it myself, on my old secondhand typewriter that never made the capitals plain and wouldn’t print “w” at all, and I sent it to a new American firm that had recently come to the front with several “best sellers.” I thought I might stand a better chance with a new firm than with an old established one that had already a preferred list of writers. But the new firm very promptly sent it back. Next I sent it to one of the “old, established firms” and the old established firm sent it back. Then I sent it, in turn, to three “Betwixt-and-between firms”, and they all sent it back. Four of them returned it with a cold, printed note of rejection; one of them “damned with faint praise.” They wrote that “Our readers report that they find some merit in your story, but not enough to warrant its acceptance.”

That finished me. I put **** away in an old hat-box in the clothes room, resolving that some day when I had time I would take her and reduce her to the original seven chapters of her first incarnation. In that case I was tolerably sure of getting thirty-five dollars for her at least, and perhaps even forty.

The manuscript lay in the hatbox until I came across it one winter day while rummaging. I began turning over the leaves, reading a bit here and there. It didn’t seem so very bad. “I’ll try once more,” I thought. The result was that a couple of months later an entry appeared in my journal to the effect that my book had been accepted. After some natural jubilation I wrote: “The book may or may not succeed. I wrote it for love, not money, but very often such books are the most successful, just as everything in the world that is born of true love has life in it, as nothing constructed for mercenary ends can ever have.

“Well, I’ve written my book! The dream dreamed years ago at that old brown desk in school has come true at last after years of toil and struggle. And the realization is sweet, almost as sweet as the dream.”

If you’re struggling to identify the writer, here are a few clues: Canadian, female, born 1874, died 1942, the four letter word I’ve hidden with stars **** is the first name of her best-known character, and that character famously insisted the last letter of her name was an ‘e’.

By now many will have realised the book being talked about is Anne of Green Gables. It was the first and the most famous work of Lucy Maud Montgomery.

L.M. Montgomery’s book was published in 1908. It has sold more than 50 million copies, and been translated into at least 36 languages. Anne of Green Gables is usually mentioned when people are listing the best-sellers of all time in all languages. After success with Anne, Montgomery wrote many more books.[1] Some were sequels to Anne of Green Gables, though by 1920 Montgomery recorded in her journal that she was tired of Anne as a character. In all she penned 20 novels, over 500 short stories, an autobiography, and a book of poetry. Not bad.

But what if Lucy Maud Montgomery had never retrieved that first manuscript from her hatbox? What if she’d been so discouraged by publishers’ refusals that she had never sent it to the Page Company of Boston, Massachusetts? But she did send it, and Anne’s appeal to both children and adults was recognised. The rest is literary history.

A modern day parallel to Montgomery’s publishing experience involves another female writer, J.K. Rowling.[2] She finished writing Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone in June 1995, and was accepted as a client by a noted literary agency. But her fantasy novel was then turned down by 12 publishers. Finally, it was bought by Bloomsbury Publishing because the head of the firm let his young daughter read the manuscript, and saw how she kept wanting to read chapter after chapter. Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone was published in 1997, the first of seven volumes in the Harry Potter series which has sold over 600 million copies, been translated into 84 languages, and made into successful films.

There are two immediate lessons from the experiences of these women. One, even the most famous writers have endured multiple disappointments when their work has been rejected. Two, many publishers must weep over best-sellers they could have accepted but didn’t.

For me, the most impressive lesson is that these two wonderful women writers didn’t give up. They kept on keeping on, and eventually found success. They persevered.

Perseverance is an important character trait. I looked up perseverance in my thesaurus for words of similar meaning, and got this entry: constancy, dedication, determination, doggedness, endurance, indefatigability, persistence, purposefulness, resolution, sedulity, stamina, steadfastness, tenacity.

So, exploring the theme of keep on keeping on, I’ll expand on some of the words my thesaurus gave me, hoping that will help us understand the value of perseverance.

Purposefulness

During the time I was a reporter in the Glasgow office of a national newspaper, one of the journalists retired after working there for 40 years. The staff gathered round, speeches were made, glasses were raised, and parting gifts were given. Then the elderly reporter left, and everyone else returned to work on their stories.

On the Monday following, the team were back at work, and, to everyone’s surprise, the retired journalist was back too. And he was there on the Tuesday. And Wednesday. And Thursday. And every day after that. Our former colleague simply couldn’t cope with sitting around at home with no purpose for each day. Once it was obvious he’d keep coming to the office, the news editor let him report on minor stories. Which he did for many months.

We all need purpose in our lives. It may come from paid work, or from family, study, caring for others, from a compelling sport or hobby, community projects, or many other things. There is a strong drive to keep doing what gives us purpose.

A motivating purpose is an essential element of perseverance. In 1924 George Mallory made his third attempt to reach Everest’s summit. If he succeeded, he’d be the first to stand on top of the world’s highest mountain. It was his life’s goal. Mallory – and his climbing partner, Andrew (Sandy) Irvine – knew there was a high risk of failure and death. So, in his final letter to his wife Ruth, Mallory wrote, “It is 50 to 1 against us but we’ll have a whack yet & do ourselves proud”. Soon after, Mallory and Irvine disappeared in the mist, and it has never been known for sure whether or not they reached Everest’s summit. (Their bodies were finally discovered only in 1999 and 2024.) Maybe they were right to try; maybe they should not. But, imbued with a driving purpose, they felt they must make one final attempt, whatever the consequence.

Perseverance and purpose are inextricably linked together.

Stamina

I have painful and humbling memories from the school day when the P.E. teacher told us to run four laps of the athletic track. I started well, by which I mean only that I almost kept up with everyone else during lap one. Lap two wasn’t as good, but I got round it without completely losing sight of the leaders. My mental and physical agony began on the third lap. For one thing the leaders were going past me on their fourth lap. For another thing I had a near disabling pain in my side, and my legs were getting heavier with every stride. My humiliation and suffering peaked on lap four. Clearly someone had secretly attached invisible lead weights to my legs, because now they refused any signal from my brain to go faster. I kept telling my legs to run, but they weren’t listening. In fact running was now no more than a dream. All I could do was drag my legs forward, one painful step after another. I never finished. I just didn’t have what it takes to run four laps of that track.

What was missing was stamina. I had a purpose, a goal to get round all four laps as quickly as possible. But neither my head nor my body could supply the staying power to keep running.

The inability to last the course is disturbingly common. I’ve watched marathon races in both London and Chicago. The elite runners did really well. The good runners kept striving for PBs (personal best times). But then, long after most, came the mass of marathon one-timers. For too many of them, training had been little more than occasional runs around their local park, which was seriously inadequate preparation for a 26.2 mile (42km) race. They failed, some because they hadn’t prepared their bodies, and others because they had never really believed they could run the distance, and therefore gave up as soon as they experienced pain.

Similarly, I’ve seen work colleagues give up on complex tasks. When they couldn’t find answers immediately, they didn’t keep trying; they just abandoned the project. I’ve known dog owners take their puppies to obedience classes, but completely fail later to continue the disciplines with their dog. One owner shrugged his shoulders and muttered “the training didn’t work”. Wrong. The owner didn’t work. He didn’t keep applying the lessons until the dog really knew what to do. He should have kept trying, kept persevering. But he didn’t. He lacked stamina, an essential element for reaching any important goal.

Constancy

I like this word. Dictionaries define it with synonyms and phrases like ‘faithfulness’, ‘fidelity’, ‘loyalty’, ‘dependability’, ‘endurance’, ‘steadfastness of mind under duress’, ‘quality of being unchanging’. In short, constancy describes the character of someone who sticks to their task, who can be depended on not to give up, who won’t be swayed by persuasion, problems, or even occasional failures. They will do what they said they will do.

Angie was like that. She wasn’t the brightest or the quickest, but give Angie a job to do and she’d work away quietly and steadily and produce good results. I never had to worry that she wouldn’t be thorough, or that she’d give up. Angie just kept going and did her work well. Colleagues like Angie were priceless.

I’ve had friends like that, people who were far more than just casual acquaintances. They supported me through the hardest of times, knew my mistakes but didn’t judge me, and they stuck with me for the long-term when others would have given up. I knew I could trust my life to friends like that. Constancy very well describes the quality I saw in them.

Sedulity

I admit I didn’t know the word ‘sedulity’ so I looked it up. The dictionary defines sedulity as ‘the quality or fact of being careful and using a lot of effort’. Two key aspects of perseverance are highlighted in that definition.

One is about being careful. Perseverance does not legitimise persisting with unwise or unrealistic projects. I know of someone who applied for a new line of work, and wrote that he knew the new role must be right for him because every career choice he’d made before had come to nothing. I can’t imagine why he thought writing that in his application would help. Maybe he imagined that his persistence in trying was a quality, or that by discovering what was not right for him, his latest choice must be the one that was right for him. Those considering his application did not agree. The applicant showed perseverance, but no evidence of being careful about either his career choices or his standard of work.  

Sedulity also means working hard. An oft-used phrase is ‘when the going gets tough, the tough get going’. That’s clever but too trite. However, there is some truth in it. In my mid-20s, I was employed by a local council’s education department to organise school buses for children who lived beyond walking distance from their schools. (Note for North America friends: school bussing in the UK is done by contracts with private bus or coach firms, not by owning a fleet of buses.) I began by studying the established routes which for many years had been put out for bids to contractors. They made no sense to me. The most blatant nonsense was that no children lived on some of those routes. At one time they had, but not now. I talked to the bosses of the bus firms, and then understood what had happened over the years. Keeping track of children needing transport was problematic – new children moved into the area; around age 12 children switched from primary to secondary schools; older children finished schooling; some elected to go to other schools; others just moved out of our area. It was complex. So complex that my predecessors in the job just accepted it was a muddle, put out the same routes year after year and left the bus owners to make the best of the bad information. They did what they could, but the system wasn’t right and wasn’t efficient. Buses went down ‘empty’ routes, and other kids got no transport. That was no way to serve families or run a budget-hungry service. Working with the schools, I tracked who needed the service now, plotted routes on maps, and then sent out the detailed routes for tenders. The new system worked, much to the relief of parents, schools and (mostly) the contractors. Perseverance often requires digging in to complicated and awkward issues, and working for as long as it takes to sort them out.

Dedication 

This is another word I like. It carries meanings like devotedness, faithfulness, loyalty and commitment. No-one ‘keeps keeping on’ without those qualities.

The story of dedication I grew up with in Scotland, and also known around the world, is not about a person’s devotion but a dog’s – Greyfriars Bobby. Here’s a short version of Bobby’s story.

In the 1850s, in Scotland’s capital city of Edinburgh, John Gray kept himself out of the workhouse by being hired as a night watchman with the city’s police force. His partner through cold winter nights was his small Skye Terrier, Bobby. Night after night, they were an inseparable pair as they walked Edinburgh’s cobbled streets together. But those hard nights damaged John’s health, and he died of tuberculosis in 1858, and was buried in the small cemetery surrounding Greyfriars Kirk (church). After the funeral service in the churchyard, everyone left. Except Bobby. From then on, day and night, and whatever the weather, Bobby stayed by his master’s grave. A graveyard gardener eventually put sacking between two adjacent ‘tablestones’ (gravestones mounted horizontally about 30 inches (76 cm) off the ground) so Bobby had shelter. And a local joiner persuaded Bobby to go with him to a coffee house each day where Bobby was given a meal. When a city law was passed that all dogs must have a licence or be destroyed, the Lord Provost paid for Bobby’s licence and gave him a unique collar attesting to that. For 14 years Bobby kept watch over his master’s grave, and then he died in 1872. The following year a granite fountain with a sculpture of Bobby was erected near the entrance to the Greyfriars Kirkyard. It is still there, and has this inscription: “A tribute to the affectionate fidelity of GREYFRIARS BOBBY. In 1858 this faithful dog followed the remains of his master to Greyfriars Churchyard and lingered near to the spot until his death in 1872”.[1]

The life size statue to Greyfriars Bobby.
Michael Reeve, CC BY-SA 3.0 <http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/&gt;, via Wikimedia Commons

Bobby’s dedication to his master was remarkable. Similarly, people who persevere must be devoted, loyal, and committed. How dedication is shown depends on circumstances, but no-one will keep keeping on without it. Just these words in closing. Too often these days we want everything now or to get them without effort. Governments are supposed to deliver results from the day they’re elected. Employees are meant to plan and deliver projects without delay. Things we want to buy we buy now, whether or not we have the money. Relationships – including marriages – are supposed to be wonderful for ever without pain or strain. But reality is different. The best accomplishments require time and work. That means they require perseverance, which includes the qualities listed above. Keep on keeping on. It’s worth it.

[1] A favourite of mine is Rilla of Ingleside, a story centred on Rilla (a short form of Marilla), the youngest child of Anne. The book is the eighth and last in the Anne of Green Gables series.

[2] It is interesting that both Montgomery and Rowling used initials and not first names for their books. Montgomery had adopted that practice with short stories she wrote before ‘Anne’. It was a common custom at the time for women writers to hide their gender. Rowling was born Joanne Rowling. But her publisher urged her to have a gender-neutral pen name, so she added Kathleen as a middle name and used the initials J.K. She was working for Amnesty International in London when she began writing the Harry Potter series.

[3] Though I’ve known the story of Greyfriars Bobby since childhood, my summary here is based on the record made by Historic UK: https://www.historic-uk.com/HistoryUK/HistoryofScotland/Greyfriars-Bobby/

When Jesus was a refugee

The hand on the woman’s shoulder was gentle, yet firm enough to stir her from deep sleep. “Mary,” the man said, “please wake up”. The room was in complete darkness. Only the familiar voice quelled Mary’s instinct to panic.

“Joseph, why are you awake? What’s happening? It must be the middle of the night,” she said.

“It is, and we need to pack what we can, take our son, and leave right now.”

“Joseph, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong? Where are we going and why must we leave now? Just come back to bed. We can talk this through in the morning.”

Joseph’s voice did not waver. “No, Mary. Please trust me. We must gather our things and be well on our way before daylight. If not, our son’s life will be at risk.”

There was no more argument. Mary rose, and by nothing more than the light of one candle, she and Joseph gathered clothes, blanket, food, and their few special possessions. Finally, they lifted Jesus from his bed, made soothing noises to keep him quiet, left the first home they’d known as a family, and set off into the cold night air.

Joseph, of course, will have given Mary further details as they trekked through the darkness, explaining what had happened to move him to such urgent action. The gospel writer Matthew describes it this way: “an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream. ‘Get up,’ he said, ‘take the child and his mother and escape to Egypt. Stay there until I tell you, for Herod is going to search for the child to kill him.’” (2: 13)

Mary was startled. Who wouldn’t be? To set off by night on a long and dangerous journey because of a dream? Going to another country with no definite destination? Yet, so much in recent years for Mary had been strange, especially her own encounter with an angel who told her she’d bear God’s child. (Luke 1: 26-38)

But this? A sudden rush into the night? Fleeing the country? Hiding their child from soldiers ordered to kill him? Questions, many questions. But no refusal by Mary. Out into the night they went as a family, and headed for safety in Egypt.

The courage, faith and resilience of both these parents is remarkable. Down the centuries, Mary has rightly been recognised for her submission to God. “I am the Lord’s servant… May your word to me be fulfilled,” she answered the angel who spoke to her. (Luke 1: 38) Mary was a woman of faith. And so was Joseph. His obedience in marrying Mary must have damaged his reputation. Yet he didn’t hesitate. Nor does he hesitate now, as he gets Mary and Jesus on the road to safety in another country.

Taking turns to carry Jesus, Joseph and Mary walked and walked. Step after weary step they trudged south. Even the shortest distance to the border was about 40 miles (64 km). But they needed to go further than that, probably at least 50 or 60 miles to reach a city where they wouldn’t be noticed among the throng. With just two carrying the essentials of three, they couldn’t have covered more than 10 miles a day. Nor, while still in Judea, could they risk staying at an inn because someone might tell Herod’s soldiers that a family from Bethlehem with a young boy was there. So, each night, the three likely huddled under a blanket at the side of the road. It would be cold, uncomfortable and very dangerous. Travellers were favourite targets for wayside robbers, and they could be as vicious as Herod’s men.

Day after day they put one foot in front of the other, always weary on dusty, uneven roads, always uncertain about what lay ahead. They were doing exactly what they’d been told to do, but that didn’t ease aching feet or quell anxious thoughts. God’s will is rarely easy. Hardship is a frequent landmark on the road of discipleship.

Becoming refugees seemed so wrong, yet it was also significant. Egypt was the convenient and safe refuge for a Judean family in danger. Crossing the border put them beyond Herod’s reach. But genuine refugees – then and now – are vulnerable: often penniless, often homeless, often unfamiliar with the local language, often unable to find work.

But Joseph, Mary and Jesus had one advantage. The road to Egypt has been walked by many Jews before them, often for similar reasons to theirs. At that time, the Egyptian city of Alexandria had over a million Jews; others were elsewhere. So, wherever the little family settled, they would find fellow countrymen, people with similar backgrounds who understood what they were experiencing. Speaking the same language, they would explain customs and laws, and help with accommodation and employment.

But, along with all the practical issues, Joseph and Mary had one troubling thought. They knew Jesus was no ordinary child. Joseph had been told to name him Jesus “because he will save his people from their sins”. (Matt. 1: 21) And Mary was told: “He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. The Lord God will give him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over Jacob’s descendants forever; his kingdom will never end… the holy one to be born will be called the Son of God.” (Luke 1:32-33, 35) Both believed those words were from God, and everything that happened at the time of Jesus’ birth and in the months after confirmed their truth. In their care was the Son of God, and they had fled to Egypt to keep him alive.

But, they must have wondered, how can these amazing promises about Jesus be fulfilled if he is in Egypt? Surely God could have protected him back in Judea, but they had been told to flee. Joseph and Mary wanted their son to grow up and fulfil all the prophecies about him. But he couldn’t fulfil them if he was in Egypt.

What the couple could not know was how long they would stay in Egypt, and what reasons, other than physical safety, God had for them being there. They may have assumed there was a straight line for Jesus from his birth through his youth and then to saving people from their sins and reigning over a new kingdom. But God never promises straight lines. When we find our lives in strange places, it may be because our route needed to change so skills could be learned, character developed, wisdom gained, and bad times endured.

Matthew saw one other reason for this strange period in Jesus’ life. A prophecy would be fulfilled when the family finally left Egypt and returned to Judea. He wrote: “And so was fulfilled what the Lord had said through the prophet: ‘Out of Egypt I called my son.’” (2: 15) That prophecy first appears in the Old Testament book of Hosea (11: 1) where it refers to God bringing his son, the nation Israel, out of its captivity in Egypt (the Exodus story). Matthew saw how that prophecy also applies to Jesus. God’s Son will come out of Egypt. But, of course, with Jesus it has a greater significance: Israel was the redeemed people God called out of Egypt, but Jesus is the redeemer called out of Egypt.

Then it was time to go home, but that was fraught with danger too. King Herod died. The tyrant who thought nothing of killing babies and toddlers in Bethlehem went to meet his maker. It’s hard to imagine that was a happy meeting.

Now the ruler who wanted to kill Jesus was gone. Again Joseph was spoken to by an angel in a dream. “Get up, take the child and his mother and go…” It was time to return to the land of Israel, “for those who were trying to take the child’s life are dead.” (2: 20)

Joseph could have argued. The family had settled in Egypt. They had blended in well to the Jewish and Egyptian communities. He had carpentry work. Joseph and Mary had made friends. Jesus had playmates. To live there for longer – perhaps for ever – wasn’t a bad idea.

But it would have been the wrong idea. So Joseph did not debate with the angel. The family sorted out their possessions, and set off north. This time they could travel in daylight, but they knew the journey would still be demanding and dangerous. Though nervous, tired, and uncertain they were also obedient. They had been told to return, so they would. Joseph assumed they’d resettle in Bethlehem in Judea. It was where they’d lived after Jesus was born, and, being a royal city, it was a place appropriate for God’s Messiah.

But there was something Joseph didn’t know. He had assumed that with Herod dead, life in Bethlehem would surely be better and safer now. It wasn’t. It was worse.

Herod had ruled over a sizeable country, but he knew the Romans would not let a successor have so much power. So he had written a will which divided the land after his death between three sons. Herod Philip got the northern region called Trachonitis, Antipas was given Galilee, and the largest area, which included Idumaea, Judea, and Samaria, went to Archelaus. What sent shivers through Joseph was the last of these appointments – that Archelaus now ruled Judea. Why was that a problem? Bethlehem was in Judea. And, if Herod had been evil, Archelaus was twice as evil and twice as vindictive as his father. He wanted no rivals and no contrary voices, so he began his reign by killing 3000 of the most influential people in the land. If Archelaus would eliminate them, and now learned that the child his father had wanted dead was back in Bethlehem, he’d have no scruples about dispatching a murder squad to kill Jesus and probably Joseph and Mary too. Archelaus’ rulership over Judea made it impossible for the family to settle there.

In another dream Joseph was told to take the family even further north. This time their goal was Nazareth in Galilee. That was an extra 90 miles (145 km) over hills and through areas made dangerous by wild animals and thieves. But Nazareth was a familiar place for Joseph and Mary because it’s where they had grown up. And the important point was that Archelaus did not rule there.[1] Nazareth was in Galilee where Antipas was in charge. Though another of Herod’s sons, Antipas was a peaceful and good ruler. In Nazareth, the family were safe.[2] It was the right place for them to raise Jesus to be the man, the Saviour, the Lord he was always meant to be.

Here we (nearly) end the two-part story of the events which occurred after Jesus was born. Part one was the previous blog post about the visit of the wise men, and this one has described how Jesus became a refugee in Egypt, and then returned to his homeland. If you have not read part one, you’ll still find it helpful. You can access it at https://occasionallywise.com/?s=wise+men

From both parts of the story, and from my Christian perspective, I draw several lessons, including these seven.

It is remarkable but important that people from another land came and worshipped Jesus soon after his birth. The divine purpose may have been to show that one day every knee will bow before him (as Paul wrote in his letter to the Philippians, 2: 10).

The wise men risked their lives for Jesus by disobeying Herod’s command to reveal his location. Many have done the same since, with some making the ultimate sacrifice for their loyalty.

There  is no shortage of cruelty in the world. The evil of Herod, who had Bethlehem children murdered in an attempt to eliminate Jesus, and later the even greater ruthlessness of his son Archelaus as ruler over Judea, shows just how cold-hearted and brutal human beings can be to harmless and innocent people.

Guidance from God can come in strange, unexpected ways. But, for Joseph, it was always there when he needed it. At no point was the whole plan given to Joseph in advance, but he was always told in time what to do next.

Paths through life have frequent twists and turns. We get scared when plans are forced to change. That’s because we can’t see round corners, but God can and knows exactly what he is doing with our lives.

There’s no guarantee that, even in the centre of God’s will, life will be comfortable. The night when Joseph woke Mary and told her they had to flee, the couple had two choices. One was to stay in Bethlehem where they had settled – but then their little child would be murdered. The other was to get started while it was still dark, take almost nothing with them, and flee for their lives to a foreign land where they had no friends, no place to live, no means of support and did not know the language.

Of course the right choice was to flee. They did that one hundred percent in the middle of God’s will. But, that meant letting go of every shred of comfort and security, and becoming refugees. It’s a myth that doing what God wants will leave us feeling cosy and comfortable. But choosing what’s right, even when it’s tough, is always for the best.

God’s ultimate purposes do get fulfilled. Think how the story from the beginning of the gospel to now could have gone:

  • Mary: stoned to death for getting pregnant outside marriage
  • Joseph, to whom she was engaged, abandoning Mary because he knew he was not the father of her child
  • While they were travelling from Nazareth to Bethlehem, the couple could have been robbed or murdered, or Mary might have gone into labour on a remote hillside
  • Mary and Jesus could have died while she gave birth in a far-from-clinically-clean stable
  • Herod’s murder squad could have found and killed Jesus before they’d had time to escape
  • After they set off at night for Egypt, evil people or wild animals could have killed them and left their bodies at the side of the road
  • When they were settled in Egypt, Joseph might have felt secure, grown weary with moving about, and decided they should stay rather than return to Israel
  • If they had gone back to Judea, the seriously wicked son of Herod – Archelaus – might have murdered the whole family.

But none of that happened. God had a plan for his Son’s life and nothing was going to stop it. That is true also for everyone who belongs to God. Probably our paths through life will not be so dramatic as the path was for Jesus’ family, but we will be every bit as safe in the hands of God.

[1] Unfortunately for Archelaus he had one other flaw – he was hopelessly incompetent, and the Romans deposed and replaced him after just two years.

[2] Nazareth was not a tiny village, but also not a place of great note. It is never mentioned in the Old Testament.

Doubly wise men

If I was writing a novel about the birth of God’s Son, I would not have him born in a stable, laid in an animals’ food trough, make his first visitors people with low status like shepherds, and later have him worshipped by people with uncertain beliefs who arrived from a foreign land. But that is the Christmas story as given in the Bible.

Today we call the people from another land ‘wise men’ or ‘kings’. They were wise men but almost certainly not kings. The New Testament story of the wise men comes from the gospel writer Matthew (chapter 2). He wrote in Greek, and he describe the visitors as magi, the plural form of the word magos. A lexicon (dictionary) will give the meaning of magos as sage, magician or sorcerer. Those definitions are not wrong, but that doesn’t mean each is appropriate for the men who visited Jesus. I will explain.

The Magi were a Median tribe, part of the Persian empire. They were people with great learning and understanding, so much so that as priests they became advisors to Persian kings. Hence it’s right to describe them as ‘wise men’. Part of their wisdom came from study of old disciplines such as philosophy, medicine and the natural world. The natural world included the stars which at least some magi observed very carefully.

These were the magi who travelled many miles to worship Jesus. They likely held ideas many of us would regard as strange, but they were good men, holy men. Decades or centuries later, the word magos also became used for less worthy people: sorcerers, fortune-tellers, magicians. (In fact, our word ‘magic’ comes from magos.) But there is no sign at all that the magi Matthew writes about were sorcerers or magicians. They were men who studied the stars, and one night they saw a star rise in the sky. We don’t know how, but they understood that star meant God had sent a new-born baby to be King of the Jews.

Where did the Magi[1] come from?

We know only that they came from the east. There has been no shortage of speculation about where exactly they travelled from. If you look on a modern map, then east of Israel are countries such as Iraq, Iran, Afghanistan, and eventually China. But ancient Persia – modern day Iran – is a very likely host country for magi such as the visitors to Jesus. In the centuries before Christ, Persia was vast in size. Its borders stretched from countries like those we now call Bulgaria, Romania, and Ukraine right across to parts of India, and also south into Egypt. By the time of Christ it was smaller, but still large. And a natural home for magi.

How far did they travel to find Jesus?

Since no-one knows precisely where these Magi made their home, the guesses of how far they journeyed to Jerusalem and then Bethlehem range from 500 miles up to 1200 miles. Starting from homes anywhere between those numbers means they had a very long journey. And, in those days, there were no cars, no trains, no planes, and no motorway standard roads.

How long did the journey take to get to Jesus and then back home?

We are not told, but we can assume that the wise men rode on camels. It’s highly likely, though, that they travelled as part of a larger party, and their attendants will have walked. Given the terrain, sometimes difficult weather, and the need of rest stops for both people and camels, they are unlikely to have covered more than 20 miles per day. If we assume their journey to Bethlehem was 1000 miles, we can make this calculation: 1000 miles ÷ 20 miles per day = 50 days. For the round trip, you should add in stops in Jerusalem and Bethlehem, and going home by a ‘minor road’. That means the journey out and back would take around 120 days, close to 4 months.

That is a long time to be away from home to visit a child you knew about only because of a star in the sky. The expenses (camels, servants, supplies) would be high. The risk – for there were many bandits dedicated to robbing rich travellers – was immense.

Put all this together, and it’s clear that these Magi made a major commitment of their lives for this journey. They saw a sign, and they went. All so they could kneel and give gifts to a very special child.

How many Magi were there?

Down the centuries, people have imagined there were three wise men. Paintings have always portrayed three, and later legend gave them names: Gaspar (or Caspar), Melchior, and Balthasar. Some have thought they represented the three continents recognised in ancient times, Europe, Asia, and Africa.

There may have been three wise men, but the gospel writer Matthew either did not know or was not interested in details of that kind. So their names, their origins, and even their number are all much later speculation. So, why has it been traditional to believe there were three wise men? Simply because three gifts are mentioned: gold, frankincense, and myrrh. But three gifts doesn’t prove there were three givers. Perhaps six, or eight, or ten magi all contributed to these gifts. We simply don’t know how many wise men there were.

Did they kneel before the manger to worship Jesus?

Works of art usually show these wise and wealthy men bowing humbly before Jesus in the manger. It’s a moving scene.

But they didn’t. and they didn’t because Jesus was no longer in a manger in a stable. We know that for two reasons. One is that Matthew (2: 11) wrote that the wise men visited Jesus in a house. The word Matthew used was the Greek oikos and oikos always means a dwelling, a place of human habitation. It would never be used for a cave or stable.

The second reason we know the wise men never went to the stable is that by the time the wise men could have arrived to worship Jesus he would be several months old. Joseph and Mary with Jesus will have continued to live in Bethlehem, but, understandably, not in a stable. Two factors indicate the time lapse before the visit of these Magi.

First, the time it took for them to travel. the wise men told Herod they had seen the star rise “of the one who has been born king of the Jews”. (2: 1-2) The child from God had been born, and they must pay him homage. So, after Jesus’ birth, they prepared for their journey, and then rode or walked many months to reach Jerusalem and then Bethlehem.

Second, the age of the children Herod ordered to be killed. What the wise men told King Herod had troubled him deeply. He hated the idea that another king had been born. So, when the Magi never returned to his palace to report Jesus’ exact whereabouts, Herod ordered his troops to slaughter all the boys born in or near Bethlehem “who were two years old and under, in accordance with the time he had learned from the Magi”. (2: 16) Matthew is quite specific that Herod targeted the boys born in Bethlehem within the time frame the wise men had given. That included those born up to two years previously.

Given these factors, the evidence is that considerable time elapsed before the wise men arrived. They were not visiting a newborn baby.

Is it not odd that holy men with generally contrary beliefs came to worship Jesus?

Yes, it does seem strange. In fact, it is also surprising that shepherds were the first to visit after Jesus’ birth. In those times, shepherds were not held in high regard. Spending day and night guarding their flocks meant they often failed to observe the ceremonial laws. But, in their favour, they were Jews, members of God’s ancient people.

The wise men were not Jews. We know they had high rank and considerable wealth because their gifts were expensive. But they observed no Jewish laws and had no part in Jewish heritage. They came, honoured Jesus, and then they disappear completely from the story. There is no suggestion they became Jesus’ disciples. Our only information is that these were magi from another land, from a wholly different belief system, who saw a sign in the heavenlies which they rightly interpreted as indicating the birth of the child who would become king of the Jews, and they came to worship him. It is remarkable that God revealed such news to them, and also remarkable that they made a long, arduous and risky journey to find Jesus and when “they saw the child with his mother Mary… they bowed down and worshipped him.” (2: 11)

Now, none of that could have happened unless these Magi already believed in God. Their ideas will have been mixed with other beliefs that didn’t belong with either Judaism or (what became) Christianity, but they had sufficient faith in God to understand he was speaking to them by a special star in the sky. When that happened, they didn’t just stand back in amazement; they knew God wanted them to find this special child, and when they did they worshipped him. These were men who sought God, and God brought them nearer to himself by leading them to his Son so they could worship him. The lessons I take from that is that God can and will do whatever he wants with whomever he wants, and does remarkable things to draw people to himself.

But didn’t the wise men put Jesus at risk because of their visit?

Yes, looked at from a human perspective, they did put Jesus at risk. It’s a curious case of doing what was right by going to find Jesus, but in doing so they triggered Herod’s jealousy and murderous actions.

Let us be very clear: at no point did these Magi do wrong. They were right to make their long journey to worship Jesus, and, with the little they knew, it was understandable they went first to the royal palace to inquire about the birth of a new king of the Jews. They could not have known how alarming that would be to King Herod. And it was Herod who decided he must eliminate this risk to his throne. When he couldn’t find Jesus, he ordered (what we now call) the ‘slaughter of the innocents’ around Bethlehem.

Someone making a harsh judgment could say those two things – their visit and contact with Herod – cost the lives of many children. That person might say it would have been better if the wise men had never come.

However, the obvious truth is that the wise men did not motivate Herod to murder Jesus, nor his eventual decision to kill the young male children of Bethlehem. Herod, and Herod alone, is responsible for these dreadful deeds.

The horrific truth about King Herod is that these deaths in Bethlehem were not the greatest evil of his reign. All his life he’d done terrible things. Early in his rule he’d killed off half the Jewish Sanhedrin (the ruling court for the Jews). Later he’d had 300 of his court officers put to death. He also murdered his mother-in-law, his wife, and three of his sons. Finally, when he lay dying, he gave orders that one member of each family in Israel was to be killed. Why? To guarantee the nation would be mourning at the time he died. (Thankfully, with Herod dead, that last order was never carried out.) Herod has been described as “a man of ruthless cruelty…”. He certainly was.

This world has always had Herods, people with great power but few morals, people who will do anything to promote their interests, people who think nothing of sacrificing others to benefit themselves. That was true in the ancient world, true in the Middle Ages, true in modern times. Terrible people have always done terrible things to innocents who have done nothing to deserve it. In King Herod’s case his fear and jealousy were aroused by the visit of the Magi, but the wicked crimes that followed were Herod’s doing and Herod’s alone.

Did the wise men put their lives at risk by failing to return to Herod?

Yes, they certainly did. The Magi and their whole party might have been put to death by Herod’s soldiers.

After finding Jesus, the Magi were supposed to return to King Herod and reveal Jesus’ precise location in Bethlehem. He was very clear: “Report to me!” There was no option to refuse. This was a tyrant’s command, and failure to obey would cost them their lives.

The Magi had little time to consider their options. Bethlehem is only six miles from Jerusalem. That was only half a day’s walk, and Herod knew they could go one day and be back in his palace the next. Even if they’d stayed in Bethlehem for a couple of days, it needn’t be long before they stood in front of Herod again, this time with details of where the special baby could be found.

Herod, of course, had lied about why he wanted that information. He’d said he wanted to go and worship the child too. (2: 8) But the Magi got another divine message, this time a warning in a dream not to return to the palace, so they avoided Jerusalem and Herod, and took a back road to get out of the country.

That took great courage. First, they knew that Herod was a viciously cruel ruler who never tolerated disobedience. Second, he would certainly have them put to death if he caught them. Third, the wise men and their party could not journey inconspicuously. Herod’s soldiers would be hunting for them, and the local people might get a reward for revealing their whereabouts. There was a strong likelihood they’d be seen, reported, captured, and executed. Despite the risk, they took another route and headed home. It was a choice others would not have made.

So the wise men return to the east. But Jesus, of course, was still Herod’s target, and next time we’ll see how Joseph, Mary and Jesus became refugees who fled for their lives.

Last word on the wise men I think of these Magi as doubly wise men. First, they recognised God’s sign in the stars, and made an arduous and hazardous journey to worship a young child. They had the wisdom to obey a heavenly authority. Second, they then had the wisdom to disobey an earthly authority, accepting that decision could cost them their lives. But God’s priority was always their priority. You can never be wiser than that.

[1] I am giving an initial capital to Magi when referring directly to ‘the Magi’ of Matthew’s gospel, but using the lower case magi when referring to these priestly people more generally.