Greetings,
George MacDonald (1824-1905) was a Scottish novelist and poet, who in 1850 became minister of a Congregational church in Sussex. His views on final judgment which left some hope for the heathen, specifically he did not believe in infant damnation, led to his salary being cut to the point where he took up lecturing, tutoring and writing as his main sources of income, which was never very much. In 1860 he converted to the Church of England as a lay person, but continued to preach occasionally. Though his health was poor, and his poverty great, his writings show little trace of this, and much of a deep faith in God. He reacted against the Calvinism of his day, but never became liberal in theology. He very much enjoyed his life and family, and was friends with many people including Tennyson, Carlyle, Ruskin, and Lewis Carroll. ON an American tour be established a friendship with Emerson. His stories for children rank among the classics of juvenile literature. C. S. Lewis, who owed much to him, rated him a powerful writer. MacDonald was at his best as a myth-maker, and it was the quality of cheerful goodness in his work that captured Lewis’ imagination and convinced him that real righteousness is not dull. One also sees reflections of MacDonald (I feel especially from Phantasies and There and Back) in Tolkien. I especially enjoy Phantasies, The Golden Key, Lilith, and Gifts of the Christ Child. The following passage is from his Unspoken Sermons, Third Series, pp. 65-67.
The Truth of Water
What, I ask, is the truth of water? Is it that it is formed of hydrogen and oxygen?...Is it for the sake of the fact that hydrogen and oxygen combined form water that the precious thing exists? Is oxygen-and-hydrogen the divine idea of water?...The water itself, that dances, and sings and slakes the wonderful thirst—symbol and picture of that draught for which the woman of Samaria made her prayer to Jesus—this lovely thing itself, whose very wetness is a delight to every inch of the human body in its embrace—this water is its own self it’s own truth, and is therein a truth of God. Let him who would know the love of the maker become sorely athirst and drink of the brook by the way—then become sorely athirst and drink of the brook by the way—then lift up his heart—not at that moment to the maker of oxygen and hydrogen, but to the inventor and mediator of thirst and water, that man might foresee a little of what his soul may find in God…As well may a man think to describe the joy of drinking by giving thirst and water for its analysis, as imagine he has revealed anything about water by resolving it into its scientific elements. Let a man go to the hillside and let the brook sing to him till he loves it, and he will find himself far nearer the fountain of Truth then the triumphal car of the chemist will ever lead the shouting crew of his half-comprehending followers. He will draw from the brook the water of joyous tears, ‘and worship Him that made heave, and earth, and the sea, and the fountains of waters.’
The truth of a thing, then, is the blossom of it, the thing it is made for, the topmost stone set on with rejoicing; truth in a man’s imagination is the power to recognize this truth of a thing in a man’s imagination is the power to recognize this truth of a thing; and wherever, in anything that God has made, in the glory of it, be it sky or flower or human face, we see the glory of God, there is a true imagination is beholding a truth of God.
Yours & His,
DED
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