Through a Glass Darkly: Volume V Issue 1 "Revival" by Through a Glass Darkly

FOR NOW WE SEE THROUGH A GLASS, DARKLY; BUT THEN FACE TO FACE.

(1 COR 13: 12A KJV)

Juliette Kuhn

editors’ notes

As Christians we are constantly looking ahead of us, as we live on this Earth with a hope of what Christ has called us to do until he comes again. However, the journey to that place can feel insurmountable and we grow weary. Grow weary of prayer, of fasting, of communing together. Grow weary of persevering, of evangelising, of preaching, of teaching, of rejoicing. Grow weary of learning to trust God through difficulty and still love others well through conflict. We look at the world around us and see wars that will not end, conflicts that will not cease, and divisions even among fellow believers when we all kneel to worship the same God. It can be crushing. We are called to hope and yet the evidence of our faith is so often not visible, and it leads us to fear and doubt.

And it is exactly in the depths of that suffering the truth of the Gospel shines through.

When we met as team to discuss a theme for this issue, we felt strongly that we needed to reflect this desire for hope in this age. More than a hope in promises that feel empty, but a revival. Revival of the spirits of God’s people, revival of the spreading of His Word and the truth of Jesus Christ to the hearts of men, revival of steadfast prayer and fasting, revival of joy and praise even in the deepest valley of the night. Revival of the Holy Spirit by who the goodness of God is revealed to those who are blind. Revival because our God is good and faithful and forevermore will be on the throne.

So, we invite you to glance, read and spend whatever moment you have and reflect on this collection of carefully crafted pieces offered by our talented contributors. We hope that in renews a conviction within you of who our God is and that He will sustain his people until the end.

Being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.

Philippians 1:6

The TAGLY Exec

a heart safe in His hands

Hannah Clarke

Tender and assured are His steady thumbs,

Stroking the worn muscles of my heart, How calloused this organ has grown of late.

Yet, it is no longer my heart but his to own,

Once stone and gravel, now flesh and blood,

Once there were thorns and bristles stifling,

Now He cushions my heart in the soft lines of His trustworthy hands.

Revival starts from a heart safe, nestled in his hands,

Death to the striving, the restless moving and uneasy pacing,

That drumbeat pulse that used to leave me bent and wheezing,

Now I dance to the melody He is weaving into the fabric of my soul.

A picture of revival right here in the depths of my ribcage, And can it be?

A master plan of a renewed earth is but a mystery to me,

But I know this Lord that holds a broken heart in His gentle hands, And calls me friend.

Hannah is a flat white enthusiast, culinary amateur, book lover and podcast fan. She is also a History undergrad at Somerville College, with a committed devotion to modern (and definitely not medieval) history.

a painting on ‘Revival’

Sarah Coffey

When I think about revival, I am reminded of one of my favourite hymns, ‘In the Garden’. It is based on the passage in John 20 when Mary Magdalene first meets the risen Jesus.

John 20:16

Jesus said to her, “Mary”. She turned toward him and cried out in Aramaic, “Rabboni” (which means “Teacher”).

Mary, overjoyed, is then sent to tell others about this good news.

As described in the hymn, ‘ I come to the garden alone, while the dew is still on the roses’, we too can come to the ‘garden’ to meet the living God, to ‘walk’ and ‘talk’ with Jesus, be filled with joy because of Jesus and so want to tell others about the resurrected Christ.

This happening on a mass scale as in the Welsh revival (1904-1905) is what comes to mind when I think of revival; prisons empty, churches filled, and streets erupting with praises to the Creator, as many are transformed by the love of Jesus. Many individuals personally encountering something of the glory of God by the mighty outpouring of the Holy Spirit.

I desperately long for revival to come again to the UK. The UK needs a revival.

spring thoughts on the way to church

Lucy Miller

It was the first spring evening of the year.

I was aware, both, that my skirt was whitea moon or burst of bright magnolia, breathing amidst the aging gloom of nightand that this now, this walk to church would go, I’d soon close the book open in my hands. Next year in Autumn, as far as I know, we’ll leave, then age, cut branches wedged in sand.

I’m in the April of my eveningyou felt the looming darkness make me cold. You warmed my hand and thoughts with yours: God brings glory to Himself as saints grow old.

We’re young, we breathe, and in the ground we’ll lie, but then new spring must dawn, and death will die.

Lucy is a Classics and English, cough not French, student at the lovely college of St Anne’s. She’s a second year, and is using her spare time this Trinity to practice irregular verbs, look at a bit of apologetics over coffee and finally learn to cook with spices.

He lifted me out of the mud and mire; The earth made a moan as His fingers broke Its mouldered skin. My skin, see: my freckles Are flecks in crackling clay – small rusted specks Of mud-mined gold. The children of Pompeii Were not so cold, when chiseled out with trowels;

Nor tortured cadavers the peat coughs up In Ireland’s fields of stagnant slime. Look closer, like He did, and you will see A person drowned and pickled all in ink. A word, a name that floats in quagmire black, I am the one that slips right off the tongue, And falls to fester steeped in syntax strings. Between my toes tuck frogspawn: glassy beads Like marbles circling dark full-stops. But slimy pits can’t suck me from His grasp. This muck, coagulate, that binds me to My drowning dirt, He plunges in and saves. Himself He makes the towline, lifts me out And sets me gently on a moss-topped stone. The mud and mire and words that stole my breath

He turns to compost; now new violets spring And words of praise, their petals, open wing.

Hannah is a tea-drinking, cat-loving, Port-Meadow-running, flute-playing Tolkien enthusiast. In her spare time, she studies English Literature at Corpus Christi. 13

“Incarnation,

Crucifixion, Resurrection”

Juliette Kuhn

Inspired by quotations from Gerard Manley Hopkins, T.S. Eliot, Simone Weil and the Bible. It's an attempt to integrate literature and visual art, dealing with the connection between joy and suffering and the incarnation of Jesus into the world--which includes nature. It's about the physicality of Jesus and His suffering and how the world shares in that.

The entire book of Ephesians

“Ephesians”

Juliette Kuhn

“Two Trees”

Juliette Kuhn

An interaction with St. Ephrem the Syriac's "Hymns on Paradise," in which he reflects that the tree of the knowledge of good and evil could have been the tree of Wisdom, if Adam and Eve has abstained from taking knowledge for their own sakes.

when I weep

Rebecca Amonoo-Neizer

Purge me Lord

From the grip of darkness that Binds my chest, Drags me from Your place of rest, Submerges me in self-pity,

I’m in need of Your mercy. Cleanse me like a new-born babe, Let my fingers curl around Yours

As I float in the warm water, Love like a warm bath,

Let Your love seep into me, Let each innocent kiss not be wasted

On a sleepy cheek.

When I weep,

Let my tears not be wasted, I yearn to wash Your feet

With the sweetest perfume, Jasmine, vanilla, pomegranate

Break my heart so it can hold You.

Reinforce my skin

With Your word, Engraved with a knife

That leaves no scar, Only a changed heart

Bursting with light, Breaking the chains of darkness,

Bring Your sight to my eyes, Bring Your love to my life.

seek Him first

Rebecca Amonoo-Neizer

How can I be so blind?

My fingers are bloody

From scratching helplessly at the dark, When I could’ve just looked up.

I searched for the stars in his eyes

When I should’ve been looking into Yours, Seek first the kingdom of God, But I ran into the crashing waves, Now I’m shipwrecked ashore.

I call out his name,

But the spirit’s groans fall on Your ears, Only You who walks on water

Can hear me and heal me, Calm the storm, Wipe all of my tears.

Because it’s him I’ve been yearning for, But it’s You that I need, I get lost in the stars

Drawing constellations, copying The pattern of his dark irises,

But how could I forget?

You arrange the stars - Still, Your light shines brighterYou cause them to collide

Decide which one sparkles in my eyes. Each time, I go blind.

Because, Lord, my eyes shouldn’t rest upon them, Emmanuel, I want to focus on You, Take the plank from my eye, Douse me with Your light, I want to see You

Use my unworthy hands, Lord

To trace Your divine works With Your scarlet path, Dripping from Your nail-pierced hands.

Carve Your light from the dark, Let Your sea of blood

Flood my heart,

And when it breaks, Let it be Your blood I shed, Lord Come and dwell in this purified place.

I always ran into their arms, Their lights flickering with each blink, Your eyes are always Wide open.

I fall on my knees now, In front of your doors, always Wide open.

Your eyes hold galaxies. I’m in awe of Your glory. You’re in all that I see.

Rebecca is a first year English Language and Literature student at Worcester. She’s convinced that yellow isn’t just a colour; it’s a lifestyle choice. When she’s not getting lost in poetry, you’ll find her snapping pics on her retro camera app, laughing uncontrollably with friends or eating the (shockingly) sweetest desserts.

photos and ‘Again’

Karah Snyder

I am too tired to do it again

Too tired to raise these arms

Too tired to praise

Too tired, almost, to pray at all. He who began a new work in you will— Do it again, Lord, do it again. Bring me to completion.

‘Breaking Light’

‘Brittle yet Beloved’

‘See’

‘Crocus

Hope’

Though her home university in the States, Karah Snyder has fallen in love with Oxford whilst studying Medieval Literature on exchange through Wycliffe Hall and would prefer to never leave. When she’s not baking bread or reading a book, you can find her rambling along footpaths, dancing, and talking about theology with friends much too late at night.

orientation

Aimee Smith

“Hence we picture lovers face to face but Friends side by side; their eyes look ahead. . . absorbed in some common interest.”

~ C.S. Lewis

Windows stretch with open mouths to the sky, dusk light spills like water onto gravel-colored carpet. Two tired and silken faces welcome me in for a bite.

The scent of species hangs like fog, spiked with something citrus. Lemon Pepper Tortellini. You cooked for me? We only have paper plates. Mist from steamy pasta gathers in droplets on my cheek.

Tonight—we teach you to play. Simple words melt my stress like coals on ice. Take the controller—see, this guy flies. My character sinks like a stone in water. Drats. It’s okay, just press X. One hour, two teachers, three games. We focus like cat’s eyes

on a laser light. I’m no good. It’s okay. I died again. We’ll start over. Heaven communes over video games and paper plate dinner.

Aimee spends her time pursuing a galaxy of interests including reading a good novel or poem over tea, investigating the intersection between animal cognition and recent thought in philosophy of mind, playing bananagrams with friends, and taking long walks among tall trees. She has recently graduated and started a position as a lab technician in a lab at the University of Chicago. 24

These photos were taken in my quiet moments with God. Moments where the light was shining just right, where I shared a smile with God, admiring the way he placed the light just so.

untitled

Ashlyn Cheong

I used to think the idea of a revival was grand and insurmountable. A huge flurry of things to accomplish, overhauling existing plans, and implementing new systems. But I’ve learnt that revival actually starts in the quiet places of our hearts. It starts from sitting at Jesus’ feet, not wanting to move, dwelling in his presence, talking to him as a friend. In these precious moments where our souls meet their maker, the Lord breathes something into our hearts -- a gentle breeze -- and a small flame begins to kindle.

Ashlyn is just an ordinary girl, serving an extraordinary God. You can always find her wandering around Oxford’s cafes, drinking one too many iced lattes. She loves all things vintage and capturing life’s beautiful moments on her film camera.

reignite

Eniola Awodiya

With only the whispers of my unanswered prayers

The breeze lifting me off my feet

One foot in front of the other

Until I learned again to speak

Not a plea or a battle cry

Just a sigh

As I bent down to tie

My boots

Straightened spine

How I hated your stupid lies

Making me think there was more to life

Maybe then I’d know the drill

Survival dependent

On dreams tempered

Heart rendered

Safe and still

Still voice whispered “not real.”

Heart grown cold as stone

No wood to garner embers

No place Consuming Fire could call home

But for a word, for days turned weeks

And the simple knowledge that You too weep

I’d set my dreams alight

But out of ashes

You make beauty rise

Tsk tsk of the lighter

O my soul, ignite

Take courage, dare to dream

Your King is alive

Eniola is a 5th-year medical student at Green Templeton College. When she’s not at the track or library, she can be found lifting terrifying amounts of weight in the name of fun, reading about psychology, or sneaking protein into things she bakes.

A Painting on Revival (1) John 20:16

“Ephesians” (1) Ephesians 1-6

Again (1) Philippians 1:6

“Two Trees” (1) Genesis 3

Seek Him First (1) Matthew 6:33

Orientation

(1) Lewis, C. S. (Clive Staples), 1898-1963. The Four Loves.

team

THROUGH A GLASS DARKLY EXECUTIVE COMMITTEE

Marie-Jo Beaubrun

Lucy Miller

Anjolaoluwa Olumoroti

Hannah Clarke

Carys Jones

Charis Patterson

Gabriel Cairns

WITH THANKS TO

Munashe Mudiwa

All of our contributors

IMAGE CREDITS

All images used arer public domain except as noted:

Illustrations by Juliette Kuhn

Photots by Karah Synder

Photos by Ashlyn Cheong

All elements used are from Canava or Adobe Indesign

Through a Glass Darkly is a student-led journal of Christian thought and art comitted to expressing that the Gospel of Jesus Christ is living and active in our fields of study and creative expressions as much as it is present in our books and college names. We seek to provide a space for students to test the veracity and credibility of the Christian faith, and to find that it holds true and enriches life. We desire to honor our God-given calling as students to creitcally explore and see our platform in as a way to engage with faith intellectually. We hope that this journal is not the end of the conversation, but the start of one. We know that all we know, we know in part, and that the Lord will illuminate and reveal more to us the more we seek after Him. Amen.

Through a Glass Darkly is part of the Augustine Collective, a network of student-led Christian journals in university campuses across the United States and United Kingdom. For more information see augustinecollective.org

Through a Glass Darkly is not affliated with any church or religious organisation, and the opinons expressed in the publication do not necessarily reflect those of the editors.