Heliocentric Living
The Eccentricity of Religion
by Henry Drummond
“They said, He is beside Himself,”—Mark 3:21
The most pathetic life in the history of the world is the life of the Lord Jesus.
Those who study it find out, every day, a fresh sorrow. Before He came it was already foretold that He would be acquainted with grief, but no imagination has ever conceived the darkness of the reality.
It began with one of the bitterest kinds of sorrow—the sorrow of an enforced silence. For thirty years He saw, but dared not act. The wrongs He came to redress were there. The hollowest religion ever known—a mere piece of acting—was being palmed off around Him on every side as the religion of the living God. He saw the poor trodden upon, the sick untended, the widow unavenged, His Father’s people scattered, His truth misrepresented, and the whole earth filled with hypocrisy and violence. He saw this, grew up amongst it, knew how to cure it. Yet He was dumb, He opened not His mouth. How He held in His breaking spirit, till the slow years dragged themselves done, it is impossible to comprehend.
Then came the public life, the necessity to breathe its atmosphere: the temptation, the contradiction of sinners, the insults of the Pharisees, the attempts on his life, the dullness of His disciples, the Jews’ rejection of Him, the apparent failure of His cause, Gethsemane, Calvary. Yet these were but the more marked shades in the darkness which blackened the whole path of the Man of Sorrows.
But we are confronted here with an episode in His life which is not included in any of these—an episode which had a bitterness all its own, and such as has fallen to the lot of few to know. It was not the way the world treated Him; it was not the Pharisees; it was not something which came from His enemies; it was something His friends did. When He left the carpenter’s shop and went out into the wider life, His friends were watching Him. For some time back they had remarked a certain strangeness in His manner. He had always been strange among His brothers, but now this was growing upon Him. He had said much stranger things of late, made many strange plans, gone away on curious errands to strange places. What did it mean? Where was it to end? Were the family to be responsible for all this eccentricity? One sad day it culminated. It was quite clear to them now. He was not responsible for what He was doing. It was His mind, alas! that had become affected. He was beside Himself. In plain English, He was mad!
Read the rest of this wonderful address here (PDF).
I’m on leave for a week, so catch you again around the 17th (need to spend some time with the kids). In the mean time, make yourself at home around here. There’s plenty of reading, coffee, an assortment of teas (even dandelion, which is very beneficial!), homemade bicsuits, and my very comfortable reading chair with a view of Mount Solitary’s striking escarpment through the trees. When you need a break, take a walk along the clifftops and savour the fresh mountain air of an antipodean Spring (just keep an eye out for snakes). Enjoy! I still might pop in if I find something worth blogging about.
Early morning view of the impressive Mt Solitary, Katoomba NSW, by Andrew Bosman.
