Friday will be an anniversary of sorts, and I’ll have something to say about the pertinence of the pious imagination. In the meantime some appropriate musing might help set the stage.

We have quoted Weaver in the past. We’ve agreed with him that right thinking rests on right sentiment; sentiment comes first, contrary to what the animal world holds. To have proper sentiments, to place things in right proportion and to have a sense of form and measure—to use Weaver’s words—is essential.

The modern church has no sense of form or measure, it does not even have a shared sense of proportion. We know this is true. We can see this in what it argues about. Many churches admit this in their divided services or their hodge-podge liturgies. A little bit of this style and a little bit of that style is a blatant admission that there are not sufficiently useful songs (and sermons) to have a single service, even among contemporaries who voluntarily join the same church. It is true in the pulpit, in its liturgy and its political endeavors. I know this is easy for many to say when they cast their gaze toward Nashville or Louisville or Schaumburg or Deerfield or Greenville or Dallas; it is harder to accept when we look in the mirror.

Partly out of normal human pride, partly as a consequence of church history, we’ve happily settled on the idea that our piety rests on our orthodoxy. This is not at all true. Demons know, believe and tremble, but they are not pious. Meticulous orthodoxy, even scrupulous obedience, is no guarantee of deep piety. The Evangelists leave no doubt about this in their treatment of the Pharisees.

Now, to make this argument irritates some people no end. To speak about “refining our sensibilities” (Weaver again) is just too hoity-toity, and Christians really do share the profane notion that the gospel can be shared between people who strike up a casual relationship at a picnic or a soccer game. And the Gospel is, after all, the sum and substance of religious obligation, right?

Earlier we quoted two works of Christian reflection; here I’ll excerpt just two contrasting stanzas. In reading them, pay attention to what they say, not how they say it. This isn’t an exercise in poetry-reading (for those of you who are intimidated by poetry or scandalized by superior technique). One is clearly technically better than the other, one is more thoughtful, but set that aside. Nor is this a comparison of theology. Reflect only on the matter under consideration.

Bliss is anticipating his reward, Tersteegen is contemplating his God.

I know not the form of my mansion fair,
I know not the name that I then shall bear;
But I know that my Savior will welcome me there,
And that will be Heaven for me.
And that will be Heaven for me,
Oh, that will be Heaven for me.
But I know that my Savior will welcome me there,
And that will be Heaven for me.

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Being of beings! may our praise
Thy courts with grateful fragrance fill;
Still may we stand before thy face,
Still hear and do thy sovereign will;
To thee may all our thoughts arise,
Ceaseless, accepted sacrifice.

If it comes down to a question of saying “the right words about the right things” (Weaver again), which is right?

Which soul is better disposed to say something meaningful, something true?

The verse by Bliss was written roughly 100 years after the verse by Tersteegen; what advance in religious sensibility is apparent in these works? Who would choose to sing the Bliss when the Tersteegen is still available?

But most important: what set of historical, theological or aesthetic factors could we cite as justification for this change in sensibility? As an exercise in lifestyle evangelism, how would you explain the difference to someone at a picnic or a soccer game? How would you explain it to the head of the English department of the local university?

Think on these things.