There’s a character in Elizabeth Goudge’s book The White Witch called Parson Hawthyn. A village priest, a holy and modest man, he lives in poverty and is alight with the love of God.
Goudge uses this character to talk about the quality of prayer, its frequent apparent failure, the way in which it can occasionally allow us to reach and reach and… almost…
Well, read this extract, I think it’s very beautiful:
Slipping once more to his painful knees he tried to pray for her too, and for the child’s parents, and this time, as he struggled to compose his thoughts, they ceased to wander, were gently taken hold of and spun together, as it seemed, into one thread that tautened and drew out into a spinning line of wonder. He crawled up it as a spider might do, taking those for whom he prayed with him, though aware that in his case the line was not of his own spinning, up and up while the wonder deepened into joy and the joy into worship.
He hung for what seemed a timeless moment upon the point of worship and then the thread snapped, and he fell, so heavy was the weight of his sin.
{ 3 comments… read them below or add one }
That is one fine piece of writing.
“though aware that in his case the line was not of his own spinning”…for me, that is when life & prayer are at their fullest…when they are not of my own spinning. oh, that i would remain open to the possibilities. thank you for this piece!
I’m glad it had resonances with both of you.