Among the Vesper Spires: Eternally in Joy for a Day’s Exercise on the Earth

By Gregory Graybill

Philosophy professor Dante awakens in a dream he cannot escape. An angel engages him regarding the things of God, his abandonment of the faith, his griefs, his hopes, his aspirations--all against the backdrop of the darkening of Western civilization. It is evening in the West, but even so, the angel is named Happy (Felix). Why? Felix confronts Dante: Who is Jesus Christ? What is the purpose of your life? Dante doesn't care. He just wants out. Will he find the way?
Moment by moment, Dante's dream is all chaotic experience. But gradually, patterns emerge. Scene by scene, the Westminster Larger Catechism's teachings on salvation (questions 1-90) shape a story much larger than one man's prodigal flight.
Is it too late for the rebel against God? What if a whole civilization embraces the darkness? Can these bones live?
O Lord, you know.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Resource Publications
• Release date: Aug 3, 2023
• ISBN: 9781666779462

Gregory Graybill

Gregory Graybill (DPhil, Oxford; Fulbright scholar) has previously published in the discipline of historical theology. He is a pastor.

Book preview

Introduction

Do not move an ancient boundary stone set up by your forefathers.

Proverbs 22:28

As I walk’d through the wilderness of this world,I lighted on a certain place where was a Den,and I laid me down in that place to sleep;and as I slept,I dreamed a Dream.

John Bunyan

Lord, make me to know my end,and what is the measure of my days.

Psalm 39:4

Respice finem

Westminster Larger Catechism

Q.

1

What is the chief and highest end of man?

A. Man’s chief and highest end is to glorify God, and fully to enjoy him forever.

1

End

Your young men will see visions.

Joel 2:28

Dante lay sprawled on a vinyl pad. A spatter of rain hit his face. He opened his eyes. Gray breakers roiled above. He heaved onto his side—and recoiled. Ragged shapes scudded far below, and through the voids, whitecaps flecked the face of the deep.

Don’t be afraid, said a voice like a friend sharing a joke.

Dante looked at the figure alight at the far end of the pad.

Are you dreaming? said the man with a grin. Lightning blinked in the sky all around them—but no thunder. The man’s clothes stayed bright, like an afterimage. He tapped the vinyl. Is this less real than your waking life?

I’d rather be awake.

The man cocked his head. Who says you’re not?

Clearly I’m not.

But isn’t that life just as miraculous as a dream? Thirty-four years ago, you didn’t exist. Thirty-three—you did.

I don’t remember that.

You might not remember this either.

I want to get out of here.

The pad began to rock.

Why am I here? asked Dante. Will you tell me, or just ask me questions?"

Like Socrates? How would you treat your students, professor?

I’d tell them.

The man laughed. There are more things in heaven and earth, Dante, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.

The rocking intensified, and the wind picked up. More rain pattered on the vinyl.

The man said, How will you handle this existential crisis? Will you try the usual approach—seize pleasure, flee pain? Pragmatic epicureanism—sophisticated, authentic.

Dante looked sidelong at the man. You make it sound sordid.

In public, you’ve signaled a virtue you don’t have, haven’t you? How tiring to be always afraid of a misstep that might destroy you! You spot a speck of inconsistency in your students, but ignore the logjam of your own contradictions. Come, let’s set it all right. It’s time to turn around.

I’d prefer not to.

The man shook his head. Where’s that old true virtue? The one that nobody made up, that’s woven into the fabric of the universe, that reflects the heart of the Creator? Can you really kill it and bury it under the floorboards? Does that telltale heart not yet beat in your ears?

The clouds churned above and below.

The visitor angled his head and talked on. I once saw a child with his hands folded, his parents sitting on the edge of his bed.

When I became a man, Dante said, I gave up childish things.

Is it manly to turn away from the Creator, from whom and through whom and to whom are all things?

My religion is private.

It’s not your religion—it’s his. He made you. Your chief and highest end is to glorify God, and fully to enjoy him forever.

Myth and superstition, people controlling people. Enough! How do I wake up?

I thought you were already woke, professor.

I want to leave this thing.

You already left.

"No, really. Get me out of this bad dream!"

How do you know it’s bad? What is good? We imagine all is over as soon as we’re thrown out of our customary ruts—but sometimes it’s only then that the new and the good begins. Your joy is yet to be renewed, so there’s a great deal—a great deal—before us. I say that for you. It’s best to go further up and further in.

I’d prefer not to.

He exalts those of humble estate. But the proud—he has scattered.

Dante shook his head.

At once the pad swung up, and he lost his grip. Down he fell, into the sepulchral mass far below—where a point of sapphire dilated into a disc that swallowed him like a great fish.

Q.2 What evidence is there for God?

A. Our internal, natural understanding, along with the external evidence of God’s works, plainly indicates that there is a God. However, salvation comes only through God’s revelation of himself in his word and Spirit.

2

Heavens

When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars,which you have set in place, what is man that you are mindful of him,and the son of man that you care for him?

Psalm 8:3-4

Dante plunged through the gloom—but then a flash of royal blue, a change of direction, and he was pointed to the skies. Up through cloud and rain, then clouds and sunshine, into azure deepening to black, the earth dropping away like a dislodged ornament. Past sun, moon, and stars in their courses above, he soared to worlds unknown.

Stars all around, and darkness. A shining hand held his wrist, and the voice came within. Son of man, is your earthly existence any less miraculous than this? And yet you took it for granted, you ignored your Creator. Day by day, you were as helpless as a spider dangled over the flames, and yet you denied the one who held you. Moment by moment you walked on rotting planks over the fires, and even in the brightness of noon the arrows of mortality flew unseen as you blithely went your way. Why have you not returned thanks?

Who are you? Dante thought.

Messenger.

You handle me roughly.

To the pure, he appears pure; but to the crooked, he seems tortuous. I’ve been sent to teach you in the same way you’ve taught others. For the measure you have used shall be measured back to you.

An eye for an eye, and we’ll all be blind.

"Don’t you see? For the vengeful, ‘an eye for an eye’ limits the violence. It’s mercy’s dawn among the brutal. And the same just God who prescribes measure for measure is also the kindly one who will neither break a bruised reed nor quench a faintly burning wick. He will faithfully bring forth justice. And in the end, you’ll realize that the way in which the Lord dealt with you was just right.

Now come, the messenger went on. Look at these stars. They were overhead every night. How rarely did you lift your eyes to them! You considered neither the creation without nor the wonder within. Both bear testimony to his eternal power and divine nature. The world is charged with the grandeur of God. Why do you oppose him?

How have I been opposing him? An agnostic by definition is neutral.

By him you speak, O man. His breath you breathe, but you don’t know him. Your whole way of life, every thought, every moment, has been opposed to him. You think you’re neutral, but no one is allowed neutrality. The lukewarm are spat out. The stakes are too high. You’re either for or against.

Dante tried prying open his eyelids. I want to wake up.

Then open your eyes.

Stars emerged like a cascade of jewels in all directions. Every star surged brighter. Points of light began to fill all the black places in the sky. The brightness grew and grew. Golden light, living light, poured over Dante from every direction, until the entire sweep of the sky was a single flaming jewel, and all he heard was the messenger’s voice.

Ye lights of evening find a voice! O praise him! O praise him!

"The heavens declare the glory of God—his power throughout the universe displayed. The skies proclaim the work of his hands. Day after day they pour forth speech, night after night they display knowledge. There is no speech or language where their voice is not heard. Their voice goes out into all the earth. The glory of God! Yet this is only the work of his hands. God himself is greater still than all that he has made. He dwells in unapproachable light:

Great Father of glory, pure Father of light,

thine angels adore thee, all veiling their sight;

all praise we would render; O help us to see

ʼtis only the splendor of light hideth thee!

Dante shut his eyes and shielded his face with one hand. No, no. Intelligent design, irreducible complexity, the fine-tuned universe. The Goldilocks planet—and other fairy tales. Fringe stuff.

Any person, said the messenger, "when he sees a ship on the sea rigged and in sail and making for harbor, will no doubt infer there’s a pilot aboard who’s steering her. Just so, we must perceive that God is the pilot of the whole universe, though you don’t see him.

Or think of it like this. You find a pocket watch in a field—do you think it made itself? You find complex biological systems requiring all the pieces to be in place simultaneously for them to work—and you don’t think intelligent design was involved? You observe the impossible odds of a trillion jackpots in a row—and you think none of this points to God?

Get me out of here. Dante turned this way, then that. Above him, the stars faded to a few points of light.

You’ve become futile in your thinking, said the messenger, and your foolish heart has been darkened. If you admitted God, you’d have to give up certain things. You dismiss him because he’s a threat.

You mean the wrath of God? So childish. Santa Claus stuff.

The messenger spoke gently. I know that long ago, the silver Christmas bell went silent for you. But it can ring again, if you’ll have ears to hear it. Turn from cynicism, come back to the wonder. Tell me—where were you when God laid the earth’s foundation? Who marked off its dimensions? Surely you know. Who stretched a measuring line across it? On what were its footings set, or who laid its cornerstone—while the morning stars sang together and all the angels shouted for joy? Who shut up the sea behind doors when it burst forth from the womb, when he made the clouds its garment and wrapped it in thick darkness, when he fixed limits for it and set its doors and bars in place, when he said, ‘This far you may come and no farther; here is where your proud waves halt’?

On and on he spoke. Have you ever given orders to the morning, or shown the dawn its place, that it might take the earth by the edges and shake the wicked out of it? . . .

Please stop, said Dante. He closed his eyes.

The glowing hand on his wrist slowly let go, and Dante drifted into blackness.

Q.2 What evidence is there for God?

A. Our internal, natural understanding, along with the external evidence of God’s works, plainly indicates that there is a God. However, salvation comes only through God’s revelation of himself in his word and Spirit.

Q.3 What is the word of God?

A. The holy Bible, made up of the Old and New Testaments, is the word of God. It is the only authority for faith and obedience.

Q.4 What evidence is there that the Bible is the word of God?

A. The Bible clearly shows that it is the word of God by its majesty and purity, by the agreement of all its parts, by its unified aim to give all glory to God, and by its illuminating power to convince and convert sinners and to comfort and build up believers unto salvation. However, only the Spirit of God, testifying by and with the Bible in our hearts, can completely persuade us that it is truly the word of God.

Q.5 What does the Bible primarily teach?

A. The Bible primarily teaches what we must believe about God and what God requires of us.

3

Word

This will be written for the generation to come,that a people yet to be created may praise the Lord.

Psalm 102:18

When Dante opened his eyes, he was standing in a library full of polished wooden rails and columns, with an ornate ceiling covered with painted crests. Leatherbound tomes lined two levels of shelves stretching away to a leaded window far ahead.

This vision is a gift to you, said the messenger, resting his hand on a wooden rail. The way out is the way through. So talk to me. You’re a philosopher.

Dante looked around, but said nothing.

You said you were agnostic. But the mere existence of God is not in dispute—not really. It’s not even a question. Even the demons believe in God, and shudder. Both the inner light of humanity and the outer light of creation show the maker. But it takes more than that in order to be saved.

More wisdom? said Dante. "Secret knowledge—gnosis? Like in all these books? Is that why you brought me here? You could spend a hundred years here in solitude and never get to the end of it all."

No—you need neither secret knowledge nor novels of magical realism to learn the things of God. This gospel of the kingdom is being proclaimed throughout the whole world as a testimony to all nations, and then the end will come. Of making many books there is no end, and much study is a weariness of the flesh. Sixty-six is more than enough books to proclaim the good news.

Oh, you’re going for the Bible. Please don’t start moralizing. I suppose you have a haunting fear that someone somewhere might be happy. Let’s not do this.

The messenger continued. A saving knowledge comes through God’s word and Spirit.

We don’t need saving from anything, Dante said, other than contrived oppression. Religion is the opiate of the masses. It’s naive wish-fulfillment—human beings projecting their desires writ large. It’s repackaged paganism and obscurantism from people afraid to face the reality that they’re truly alone.

Nauseating, said the messenger. "The learned platitudes that spring like fungus from the Darkening of eighteenth century Europe. How blindly provincial.

My soul, there is a country

Afar beyond the stars,

Where stands a wingéd sentry

All skilled in the wars;

There above noise and danger

Sweet Peace sits crowned with smiles,

And One born in a manger

Commands the beauteous files

No! Dante raised his voice. Who can put up with a talking snake, a virgin birth, and an impossible resurrection? It’s all fairy tales.

The messenger grinned. You mean like the things children believe? I praise you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you’ve hidden these things from the wise and learned, and revealed them to little children. Yes, Father, for this was your good pleasure.

What are you talking about? Why are you so pleased?

"Maybe I’m just happy—felix, in the old language. Light as a feather! Happy as an angel! And why not? The whole story ends well, and the Lord has a wonderful sense of humor. For since in the wisdom of God the world through its wisdom did not know him, God was pleased through the foolishness of what was preached to save those who believe. If you don’t speak according to this word, you have no light of dawn. You sit in darkness like the cuckoo in his clock."

Well, Felix, if God is there, he’s the watchmaker, and that’s all. Wind up the springs, step back, and let it go. I don’t see him at work in the world. The only real thing I see there is darkness. Where’s the light? It’s all pain, sorrow, death. I’m not a pessimist—I’m a realist. If the world is a tale, it’s told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.

"Then is life but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage? How sad would that be! If in Christ believers have hope for this life only, they are of all people most to be pitied! But no—the world really is a tale—a tale full of meaning, with a wise and holy author. And it’s not a tragedy—it’s a comedy, in the classic sense of all turning out well in the end. Come, read the script. It’s the divine comedy. You didn’t quit reading the book when Shelob struck down Frodo. That tale read like a tragedy all the way until it turned out it wasn’t.

Don’t you see, he went on, "how the power of that story lies in its resonance with the real story—the great story of the glory of God in creation and salvation? Read God’s book. Hear from the author. You’ll see what you’re to believe, and what your duty is as one of the author’s beloved heroes. He inspired many people over many ages to record his words and deeds. The Bible is a single narrative, unified in all its parts. It’s the word of God—the holy Scriptures of the Old and New Testaments. It’s the only rule of faith and obedience."

Sometimes I think you evangelicals worship the book itself.

God has made himself known through human language in human contexts. His message itself is not the object of worship—it’s the means of directing worship to himself. The word of God is living and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow. It judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart.

"And that could just as well apply to the Koran, or the Book of Mormon, or the writings of L. Ron Hubbard. You say the Bible’s so special, but other people say their books are special. Who’s to know? Maybe they’re all right. What’s true for you may not be true for me."

"When you consider the Bible in comparison with all these other so-called religious writings, you must conclude that they might all be wrong, but they cannot all be right. They make mutually exclusive truth claims."

What is truth?

"That question has been asked before. Pontius got no answer to his query. But for you—an indulgence has been granted. Despite Kant’s theories and all your mental filters, despite the fashions of modernism, postmodernism, modern humanism, and old-fashioned human narcissism—the reality of the matter is that truth is not a human creation. Truth and reality are related concepts. Truth is not whatever you prefer. Truth is what is—and reality comes to you from without. It’s defined by the author of all things, and his word is the communication to you of how reality functions, so you can avoid being destroyed by closing your eyes and driving yourself off a cliff in a misaligned car."

Felix continued. How many crooked, out-of-the-way, impassable and devious paths has humanity chosen in their attempt to attain eternal truth—while before them the straight road lies open, like a road leading to a magnificent building destined to become a royal palace. It’s more resplendent than all the other paths, lying as it does in the full glare of the sun and lit up by many lights at night, and yet men stream past it in blind darkness. And how many times—even when guided by understanding that descended upon them from heaven—have they still managed to swerve and go astray, to stumble again into impassable out-of-the-way places in the broad light of day, to throw a blinding mist over each other’s eyes while running after will-o’-the-wisps, and reach the brink of the precipice only to ask themselves with horror: ‘Where’s the way out? Where’s the road?’

Dante persisted. But how am I supposed to know the Bible shows the road, the way out? Why not some other religion’s holy book? Maybe there’s more than one palace to find.

The light coming from the leaded window went dim. The overhead lamps in the library flickered off for a second, then came back on.

The Bible is unparalleled in its majesty and purity, Felix answered. "It stands alone, towering above all the writings of men.

How firm a foundation, ye saints of the Lord,

Is laid for your faith in His excellent word!

Majesty and purity, said Dante. You could say that about a lot of things.

"Really? Things that are pure are often not majestic, and things that are majestic are often not pure. Haven’t you heard Carmina Burana? Majestic, but impure. The combination of majesty and purity is rarer than you might think. But let’s go further. Despite the many human authors, editors, and cultures from which the Scriptures arose, they agree in all their various parts, and together have an unequalled scope, which is to give all the glory to God. They have a light and power to convince skeptics and convert sinners. They comfort and build up believers in salvation. You can stand on the promises of God."

I’m not convinced.

Ultimately, it’s the Spirit of God—bearing witness by and with the Scriptures in the heart of individuals—who alone is able to fully persuade them that the Scriptures are the very word of God.

How convenient! You’re saying it takes a miracle for anyone to believe the Bible. That’s rich!

It’s actually the opposite of what you assume. You think that because it takes a miracle to convince the human heart, therefore the Scriptures aren’t true. Wrong! The reason it takes a miracle has nothing to do with the Bible’s veracity. Rather, it takes a miracle because people are corrupt. Their hearts are hardened, their eyes blind—unless the Lord works a miracle, which he does when he wants.

"Is that so?