EAGLE ARISEN

EAGLE ARISEN


I sit here at a desk right off the kitchen. It is late night, or rather early morning; I am tired and my mind draws blank. As has had happened at other times before I am ready to write about not being able to write. But now I call upon a force greater than my mortal self. I trust it to accomplish those things that I am utterly unable to accomplish on my own. I say 'God help me to do what I am incapable of doing by myself.' I ask that God make me a channel of the Word, to be as a pen in the hand of an Author omniscient, Who knows the text entirely at once, the beginning and the end simultaneously. I bid to be endowed with a flow of right language so unencumbered that it strikes even the skeptical reader as inspired. I trust a providence Who rules the workings of a universe vast, folded unto itself, warped and strung, within a matter black, which, so far at least, proves mysterious, impenetrable to human ken.

But this self-same Sovereign also reigns over the little things. He reckons the countless phenomena that mark the progress of each and every creatures' individual life. Today we may easily forget that our forebears believed in a God who knows the number of hair upon our heads. Because of great progress in the science of astronomy our attention has become increasingly diverted. Modern telescopes reveal the sheer immensity of space-time, the monstrous architecture cradling the lights of heaven. We may fail to remember that the God of our fathers not only authored Genesis but also knew the precise moment a sparrow's fall.

It is to this God both grand and particular to whom I pray. In fulfillment of His will -- that His will be done, that I convert the blank page before me to chronicle American life and thought during this last half century. And tonight, though both mind and body be tired and worn, I am vehicle to the good story, reveling in triumph, happiness and energy, now sufficient to recognize and carry out a will beyond selfish aim. Volition has new power, taking it immeasurably pass purely human aspiration and design to wildly abundant, unexpected narrative whose insight and denouement bespeaks the divine. The dark, empty late night now gives way to bright light and fertility. All weakness turns to strength. The despair gnawing at the wheel of our diurnal rounds vanishes. Freely and utterly without discernible merit a fantastic, spiritual grace allows glory, a brand new sense of mission out of those things and events which remain behind.