Cr Wiley Quotes

Duty impresses a structured hierarchy onto our lives. Duty never says, “You be you,” or “Go ahead and do what makes you happy.” Duty says, “This is who you are; do what is required.

Western civilization still has curb appeal. Things like economic growth, advances in medicine, and an emphasis on human rights seem to indicate that things are in good shape. But something has been added to the mix that serves as the intellectual and spiritual basis for our society. The institutions at the foundation of our way of life don’t seem solid any longer. And the most important of these institutions is the household.

Today the true revolutionaries are not feminists, homosexual activists, or other progressives but those who are seeking to halt any further erosion of the family, and even reverse the process—families who are intentionally working to restore at least some of the traditional functions of the household.

covenant binds the man and wife so completely it changes them and they receive new names. A woman traditionally took her husband’s name in order to show that she was bound to him; and a man was given a new title, husband—which means house-bound—hus for house, and bund for bound. And here—in the man’s new title—we see how one thing leads to another. Marriage makes shelter; it establishes a household.

Useful friendships are the bread and butter of life. This is one reason why marriages that are not useful don’t last. Romantic feelings come and go. In useful marriages the parties depend on each other for the basics—the dull-normal stuff of everyday existence. This is true when it comes to children too. Children serve no useful purpose any more. We look at a child and say, “So long as he’s happy, that’s all that matters”—not accounting for usefulness in our account of happiness. Perhaps this is one reason that our children disappoint us—we expect them to pursue their passions, to develop their gifts, yada, yada, yada, but we don’t give them anything worth caring about. And so they shrug and they say, “Who cares?” And why should they care? And why should we be disappointed when they don’t amount to anything? We preached to them the gospel of happiness, implying, without meaning to, that they have nothing worthwhile to contribute to either a household, or the world at large. So they end up worthless and miserable.

In the part of Connecticut where I live today we literally have crumbling foundations everywhere. The reason is a mineral that went undetected in a concrete mix from a local quarry. For years this quarry churned out the bad mix and no one knew—not even the owners of the quarry. In some cases million-dollar homes that look fine from the street stand condemned. Metaphorically, something similar has occurred in our culture. Western civilization still has curb appeal. Things like economic growth, advances in medicine, and an emphasis on human rights seem to indicate that things are in good shape. But something has been added to the mix that serves as the intellectual and spiritual basis for our society. The institutions at the foundation of our way of life don’t seem solid any longer. And the most important of these institutions is the household

As wonderful as a personal relationship with Jesus is, the people that show the most enthusiasm for it do not give much thought to all the things that have to be in place in order for it to be possible. Take the Bible, for instance, or the sacraments, or the creeds, or even prayer. All of these things must be in place before you can even imagine having a personal relationship with Jesus. Without archivists, and translators, and publishers, we wouldn’t have Bibles that tell us about Jesus. Then there are Church councils that gave us the creeds which summarize what the Bible says about Jesus and His divine nature. And this is just a start. Even beyond those things, just consider all the ways that the Christian religion has influenced Western civilization for the good. Think about how the arts, the sciences, and our laws, customs, and holidays wouldn’t even exist in their current forms without the Christian religion. No, you cannot reduce Christianity to a relationship; it is bigger than that. Religion really is a better word than relationship for describing what it is.

When it comes to piety something along this line had already happened by the time the preachers of my youth commended it to me. I hate to say it, but even the piety of Wesley and Whitfield was a downgrade of the real thing.3 This is because by the eighteenth-century piety’s sphere had already contracted. It is a well-documented story, so I won’t go into detail, but I think I can sum it up succinctly. By the time of Wesley and Whitfield, what had once been regarded as public truth had been reduced to private convictions. Authority in general had eroded due to revolutions in politics, the sciences, and even economics. To meet the challenge evangelists were forced to stress direct, very personal experience of the supernatural by everyone. The second-hand Truth contained in catechisms and confessions was no longer enough. Even eyewitness accounts of the risen Christ were not as trustworthy as a “warmed heart.” This is how we ended up with a hymn like “I Serve a Risen Savior.” In that song the line that is supposed to persuade you to believe that Jesus rose from the dead is, “You ask me how I know He lives? He lives within my heart!”4 What we are left with today is heart religion, because now the heart is the only place Jesus can be publicly acknowledged to live. Ironically, many people think that this is the sum total of Christianity, and the notion that this is actually a downgrading of the faith is inconceivable.

You may wonder how your small stake could possibly threaten the powers that be. Just remember, a household ordered by the household code in Ephesians reflects the rule of Christ. Besides that, all things connect. That little tune that your household sings is in harmony with the music of the spheres, and that harmony restores many things that the enemy has perverted.

The primary emotion in any bureaucracy, and the real thumbscrew of managerial control, is fear.

There is a seed of courage hidden (often deeply, it is true) in the heart of the fattest and most timid hobbit, waiting for some final and desperate danger to make it grow. Frodo was neither very fat nor very timid;

A little people, but of great worth are the Shire-folk . . .. Little do they know of our long labour for the safekeeping of their borders, and yet I grudge it not.