Thomas Wingfold, Curate

I just finished re-reading another favorite book of mine, titled in the title of this post. For those who may know a little of George MacDonald (the author) this will be a wonderful reminder of his genius, for those not so familiar this may serve as an introduction to one of the greatest preachers of all time (I say "preacher" and not "novelist" or "writer" in the spirit of Jessica's frequent comment that though MacDonald may not be the most compelling story-teller she has ever read, he is a fantastic preacher--this comment I believe was inspired by none other than C.S. Lewis).

This is part of a conversation between a young man who was ill and dying and an old man who is the spiritual tutor of the characters:
"Only, the Lord of Life is with you, and that is real company, even in dying, when no one else can be with you."
"If I could only feel he was with me!"
"You may feel his presence without knowing what it is."

George MacDonald spends pages in his novels in commentary. This particular passage has to do with, well, it's self explanatory:
I suspect that at root the loves of the noble wife, the great-souled mother, and the true sister, are one. Anyhow, they are all but glints on the ruffled waters of humanity of the one changeless enduring Light.

There is in MacDonald's writing this very likable style of writing of his characters as if they are an acquaintance of his. In commenting on the spiritual progress of the protagonist at a particular point in his life, MacDonald wrote:
Perhaps it may be to this period that the following verses which I found among his papers belong: he could not himself tell me. [He then copies one of "Wingfold's" poems.]

Another quote from the Wise Tutor:
To be content is not to be satisfied. No one ought to be satisfied with the imperfect. It is God's will that we should bear, and contentedly--because in hope, looking for the redemption of the body. And we know he has a ready servant who will one day set us free.

Here is another part of a conversation between the young dying man and the Wise Man:
"It does seem hard that a man should be capable of doing things that he is not made capable of undoing again."
"It is indeed a terrible thought! And even the smallest wrong is, perhaps, too awful a thing for created being ever to set right again."
"You mean it takes God to do that?"
"I do."
"I don't see how he could ever set some things right."
"He would not be God if he could not or would not do for his creature what that creature cannot do for himself, and must have done for him or lose his life."
"Then he isn't God, for he can't help me."
"Because you don't see what can be done you say God can do nothing--which is as much as to say there cannot be more within his scope than there is within yours! One thing is clear: that if he saw no more than lies within your ken, he could not be God. The very impossibility you see in the thing points to the region wherein God works."

The young man spoken of above committed a serious crime and his sister was caring for him while he slowly wasted away under the conscience of his guilt. Through conversations he had with others, he had decided to turn himself in to the horror of his sister who knew that he would be hanged and would bring disgrace to their family. With this background I share part of a conversation between the sister and the protagonist, Wingfold, a young preacher:
Wingfold took one step nearer to her. "My calling is to speak the truth," he said; "and I am bound to warn you that you will never be at peace in your own soul until you love your brother aright."
"Love my brother!" Helen almost screamed. "I would die for him."
"Then at least let your pride die for him," said Wingfold.

There, just a few selections, certainly not enough to do justice to the depth of the mind of the man who wrote the book, but an offering nonetheless.