It resurfaces every time I read those verses in Proverbs about 'the voice of Wisdom crying out in the streets'. I see it, as if it were done by Vermeer: a gorgeous woman, standing in the middle of a filthy thoroughfare, her whole body inclined forward as if trying to beckon the attention of someone -- anyone. On all sides the hunched backs of the busy people go racing past her, pushing carts, carrying their shopping, and don't even seem to see her. In my mind, the only light in the painting seems to be landing on her, leaving the rest of the scene in shadow.
I'm not currently reading Proverbs, but nevertheless it came back to me today. I was thinking about Last Stands. Lucky you: I have a blog, so you get to follow me down the rabbit hole.
Mrs. H comes from Sweden, originally. She's about my grandma's age and she attends the same Bible study as I do. I haven't been able (nor am I particularly keen) to knock the childhood habit of using respectful prefixes when speaking to adults, and in Mrs. H's case, I'm very glad of that. In Sweden such things are a bit more strict than they are here, and Mrs. H has actually been known to request adults older than myself to refer to her as 'Mrs. H' rather than 'Gynella'. My first thought was, how embarrassing for those adults! My second thought was, who's going to stick up for such things if she doesn't? It's a dying notion -- respect for one's elders.
In Sunday school last year Mr. W was asked by a woman whether or not Christians should be fighting 'the culture war'. She'd heard the argument that reclaiming film or literature was not nearly as important as reclaiming hearts for Christ. Mr. W said, "I wouldn't agree." (I like Mr. W -- he doesn't temporise his own opinions) "Imagine if, in World War II," he continued, "the Allies had said, 'I don't think this whole Air Warfare thing is worth nearly as much of our time as the Trench Warfare.' Every part of the world we live in is under attack, and we cannot afford to cede any of it to the Enemy."
I'm not a pessimistic person -- if anything, I tend to be optimistic to a fault. I prefer to think that everything will work out ultimately, and to the extent that one day Christ will return in glory to make all things new, I am absolutely correct.
But there are certainly times when I look out and see the last man standing upon the crumbling battlements of an abandoned position, simply because he cannot find it in himself to leave while a single stone remains.
History is not built solely upon the backs of people like George Washington, Martin Luther, Winston Churchill, and William Wilberforce. We admire them for tackling impossible problems and winning -- and they are credited accordingly. What of the ones who hold fast and are trampled, or forgotten?
Perhaps you can't read about Whittaker Chambers and not ponder this question.
It's a question I may yet come back to, but my first thoughts are these -- and yes, they are sweeping and metaphysical beyond my ken, so bear with me:
Truth is absolute, not the invention of man, and thus the rightness of the answer cannot be dictated by how many people fight for it, or if no one does. (So Noah's the only one building an ark -- that doesn't make coming deluge less certain.)
Thus if you are fighting for truth, then the absence of success cannot nullify the value of the battle. Better to fight for it and die for it than live without it. (Wow, do I personally value truth that much...? I hope so.)
And besides that, who defines such failures -- or victories? Who separates the goats from the heroes? Maybe their cause wins out in the end, but not in time for them to enjoy it ("...we went to save the Shire, Sam, and it has been saved -- but not for me."). Maybe in some cases 'victory', for them, will simply the preservation of their ideals... just long enough for one other person to take them up and carry them onward. Maybe their victory is simply cloaked -- what in the short-term looks like disaster, may be providence in a decade. Or a century. Or when the world comes crashing down to form the foundations of paradise.
Has He not commanded us, be strong and courageous? On the scale of immortal souls, we're playing a very long game here, without benefit of the big picture. And He who laughs last, laughs best.
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