When my younger daughter developed into an avid reader, she told me she liked to see what the first word and the last word of books were. Of course, she would not count the little words, like “the” and “a.” In her estimation those were not real words! I am sure she has influenced me because often I will open to the initial chapter of a book---be it an introduction chapter or the first chapter itself. And I will read a sentence or two. And then I will flip to the back, last page and see how the author ends the book.
And so I recently had a chance to re-read my favorite Quaker book, Thomas Kelly’s A Testament of Devotion. The book was originally published in 1941. It came from Kelly’s rather extensive time in Germany in the 1930s watching the Nazi threat come on the scene. He returned to the USA and offered some observations to the Quaker community in the Philadelphia area. These presentations became the chapters in this remarkable book. While he was speaking directly to Quakers in his original audience, the book is effective for any Christian group and, actually, for any spiritual community of any tradition.
I realized I could not remember how Kelly finishes this book, even though I have read it many times. So I turned to the last page and looked at the last sentence. I would call that sentence a sentence of assurance and hope. It could be a stand-alone. But it makes even more sense if the last paragraph is shared, which obviously has the last sentence. Let’s take a look.
The last sentence is contained in a chapter entitled, “The Simplification of Life.” Simply typing out that chapter title gives me some assurance. Like many, I sometimes think my life is too complex. Complexity for me has less to do with material things. While I have made no vow of poverty, I don’t feel trapped by the aggressive selling of our culture. My complexity comes from the way I deal with time. Even after all this time, I still find myself too busy. Retiring does not always fix that since I watch some friends who have retired still living crazy lives.
With this in mind, I began to read the last paragraph of Kelly’s book. I was rewarded. “Life from the Center is a life of unhurried peace and power.” Quakers make a big deal out of the language of “center.” The center becomes an image or metaphor to describe the place where the Holy One comes to meet us individually. We each have a “center,” which is typically described as deep within. Recalling a line from Richard Rohr, most of us live our lives on the circumference---distanced from our center.
To know the center is to know God and to know ourselves as we really are---our soul, if you will. And when we learn to live from that center (capitalized in Kelly’s text), we learn to live a life that is peaceful and powerful. That is appealing. It stands in contrast to a life lived in a chaotic, frenzied, and sometimes aimless fashion.
Kelly then begins to detail what life from the Center is. “It is simple. It is serene. It is amazing. It is triumphant. It is radiant.” Reading this string of descriptors compels me to want to find and live from that center. Why would we make any other choice? The answer is simple and sad: we become enamored by the desires of our ego and start chasing things that ultimately don’t matter. We often become hypnotic and robotic. We need to wake up!
Kelly continues to describe this centered life. “It takes no time, but it occupies all our time.” That is a clever way to suggest spiritual life from the center defines and destines us. When we are in the center, literally there is nothing else we want. We don’t waste time and effort chasing things that don’t matter. And simultaneously, it demands everything we are and we have. Being spiritual in this fashion is not a church-thing or prayer-thing. It is everything.
Kelly says as much when he alleges, “it makes our life programs new and overcoming.” Again he reassures. “We need not get frantic. He tells us that God “is at the helm.” This does not mean God has predestined us in any particular way. Our free will is intact. We make choices, but they are made from the center. And we do this day after day the rest of our lives. We are engaged, but don’t get exhausted. We are in it for the long haul.
And then comes Kelly’s last sentence. “And when our little day is done we lie down quietly in peace, for all is well.” Intriguingly, we don’t know whether Kelly talks about the end of a literal day? Or does he mean the end of life? Finally, it does not matter because it probably means both.
Each day we can finish in peace for all is well. And at the end of our life, we can lie down quietly in peace. For all is well. This is a great ending---of a book, of a day and of a life. All is well.
And so I recently had a chance to re-read my favorite Quaker book, Thomas Kelly’s A Testament of Devotion. The book was originally published in 1941. It came from Kelly’s rather extensive time in Germany in the 1930s watching the Nazi threat come on the scene. He returned to the USA and offered some observations to the Quaker community in the Philadelphia area. These presentations became the chapters in this remarkable book. While he was speaking directly to Quakers in his original audience, the book is effective for any Christian group and, actually, for any spiritual community of any tradition.
I realized I could not remember how Kelly finishes this book, even though I have read it many times. So I turned to the last page and looked at the last sentence. I would call that sentence a sentence of assurance and hope. It could be a stand-alone. But it makes even more sense if the last paragraph is shared, which obviously has the last sentence. Let’s take a look.
The last sentence is contained in a chapter entitled, “The Simplification of Life.” Simply typing out that chapter title gives me some assurance. Like many, I sometimes think my life is too complex. Complexity for me has less to do with material things. While I have made no vow of poverty, I don’t feel trapped by the aggressive selling of our culture. My complexity comes from the way I deal with time. Even after all this time, I still find myself too busy. Retiring does not always fix that since I watch some friends who have retired still living crazy lives.
With this in mind, I began to read the last paragraph of Kelly’s book. I was rewarded. “Life from the Center is a life of unhurried peace and power.” Quakers make a big deal out of the language of “center.” The center becomes an image or metaphor to describe the place where the Holy One comes to meet us individually. We each have a “center,” which is typically described as deep within. Recalling a line from Richard Rohr, most of us live our lives on the circumference---distanced from our center.
To know the center is to know God and to know ourselves as we really are---our soul, if you will. And when we learn to live from that center (capitalized in Kelly’s text), we learn to live a life that is peaceful and powerful. That is appealing. It stands in contrast to a life lived in a chaotic, frenzied, and sometimes aimless fashion.
Kelly then begins to detail what life from the Center is. “It is simple. It is serene. It is amazing. It is triumphant. It is radiant.” Reading this string of descriptors compels me to want to find and live from that center. Why would we make any other choice? The answer is simple and sad: we become enamored by the desires of our ego and start chasing things that ultimately don’t matter. We often become hypnotic and robotic. We need to wake up!
Kelly continues to describe this centered life. “It takes no time, but it occupies all our time.” That is a clever way to suggest spiritual life from the center defines and destines us. When we are in the center, literally there is nothing else we want. We don’t waste time and effort chasing things that don’t matter. And simultaneously, it demands everything we are and we have. Being spiritual in this fashion is not a church-thing or prayer-thing. It is everything.
Kelly says as much when he alleges, “it makes our life programs new and overcoming.” Again he reassures. “We need not get frantic. He tells us that God “is at the helm.” This does not mean God has predestined us in any particular way. Our free will is intact. We make choices, but they are made from the center. And we do this day after day the rest of our lives. We are engaged, but don’t get exhausted. We are in it for the long haul.
And then comes Kelly’s last sentence. “And when our little day is done we lie down quietly in peace, for all is well.” Intriguingly, we don’t know whether Kelly talks about the end of a literal day? Or does he mean the end of life? Finally, it does not matter because it probably means both.
Each day we can finish in peace for all is well. And at the end of our life, we can lie down quietly in peace. For all is well. This is a great ending---of a book, of a day and of a life. All is well.
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