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About the Book


"Liturgy of the Ordinary" explores the significance of finding God in the everyday moments of life, reminding readers that even the smallest tasks and routines can be opportunities for spiritual growth and reflection. Warren encourages readers to see the sacred in the ordinary and to cultivate mindfulness and gratitude in their daily lives.

William Wilberforce

William Wilberforce William Wilberforce was born in 1759 in Hull, East Yorkshire. He graduated from Cambridge University with the intention of following a political career, and became Member of Parliament (MP) for Hull in 1780, aged 21. Four years later he became MP for the whole of Yorkshire. It was at this time that he began to work for the abolition of the British trade in enslaved people. Wilberforce was a deeply spiritual man and later became an Evangelical Christian. He was a popular figure and was known to be charming and witty and a great public speaker. He campaigned for a number of causes: for legislation to improve the lives of the poor, education reform, prison reforms and ending child labour. He was also one of the founders of the Royal Society of the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (RSPCA). A Committed Abolitionist With the backing of his friend William Pitt, who became Prime Minister, Wilberforce became leader of The Society for the Abolition of Slavery. The society campaigned for almost 20 years to bring an end to British involvement in the Transatlantic Slave Trade. The abolition campaign made them many enemies, especially among those who had made huge profits from the trade in enlsaved African people. Wilberforce left Hull in 1792 and moved to Clapham, London to be closer to his work in Westminster. Within the local community he found friends who shared his interests in religion and politics. They became known as the Clapham Sect and they actively supported the anti-slavery abolitionists. William Wilberforce, oil painting by Karl Anton Hickel, 1793 . Willima has a white scarf tied at his neck and wearing a dark blue coat with a folded collar. William Wilberforce by Karl Anton Hickel, 1793 Wilberforce married Barbara Spooner in 1797 and they had six children. Historical acounts show that he was a loving and devoted husband and father, and was proud that three of his sons became clergyman. The Slavery Abolition Bill Wilberforce attempted several times to bring private members' bills before Parliament to end Britain’s involvement in the slave trade, but the Bill was defeated many times. It was finally passed on 25 March, 1807. However, this only went as far as banning British people from engaging in the slave trade, it did not ban slavery itself. Wilberforce retired from politics in 1825 due to ill health, but he continued to campaign for the abolition of slavery. Finally, on 26 July 1833, as Wilberforce lay on his deathbed, he was told that the Slavery Abolition Bill, granting freedom to all enslaved people within the British Empire, had been passed by Parliament. He died three days later. As a mark of respect for his achievements, his body was buried in Westminster Abbey. Childhood and Education William Wilberforce was born on 24 August, 1759, at 25 High Street, Hull (which is now known as Wilberforce House) to Robert and Elizabeth Wilberforce. He had three sisters, Elizabeth, Ann and Sarah (known as Sally). Of the four children, only William and Sally survived to adulthood. The Wilberforce family were successful merchants, who traded in imported goods, like wood and cloth, from northern Europe and the Baltic states. The family home reflected the family's wealth and was decorated with fashionable architecture of the day. William was a small, sickly child with poor eyesight, but this did not stop him from attending Hull Grammar School or taking part in musical activities or sports. William was known to have a beautiful singing voice and had a reputation for telling funny stories and playing practical jokes. When William was only eight years old, his father died. William's mother then became ill and so she sent him to live with his aunt and uncle, Hannah and William Wilberforce, in London. They sent him to study at a small boarding school in Putney, which he disliked, complaining about the food. Hannah and William were Evangelical Methodists and they took William to church regularly, where he enjoyed listening to bible stories and sermons by prominent figures within the Methodist movement. William's mother worried about his exposure to such a strong religious influence and arranged for him to come home to Hull. William was sent to board at Pocklington Grammar School, where he studied hard and did well at Latin, English and History. Aged 17 he went to Cambridge University, where he met William Pitt the Younger, who became a lifelong friend. Wilberforce took full advantage of the social life on offer at university, and was well known for attending dinners, gambling, and playing cards. Despite his busy social life, Wilberforce managed to graduate from Cambridge in 1781, determined to have a career as a Member of Parliament. Religious Beliefs and Influences William Wilberforce became a deeply religious man who dedicated his life and his work to acting on his beliefs. He had many religious and political influences during his lifetime. His mother was staunchly Church of England. However, after the death of his father, William spent two years living with his aunt and uncle in London, who were keen Methodists. They took the young William to church regularly, where he heard important figures like George Whitefield preach. At that time, Methodism was known as a branch within the Church of England that was particularly concerned with social welfare. However, his mother became alarmed at his growing interest in evangelical Christianity, and she brought the young William home again. Wilberforce's second major religious influence was Isaac Milner, who was a young teacher when Wilberforce attended Hull Grammar School. They were to become lifelong friends and in 1784 they travelled together through Europe. During the months they spent together, Milner introduced William to his own religious beliefs and encouraged him to read an essay entitled 'The Rise and Progress of Religion in the Soul'. The whole experience had a profound affect on William and he returned home to England a changed man and devout Methodist. Another influence on William was John Newton, his Aunt Hannah’s half-brother who had previously been involved in the slave trade. Newton was one of the wealthiest men in Europe and a great humanitarian and philanthropist, and gave many gifts to the Evangelical church. Following William's tour of Europe with Milner, he met up with John Newton to discuss his new-found faith. William wrote in secret to Newton: Sir, there is no need of apology for intruding on you, when the errand is religion. I wish to have some serious conversation with you
 the earlier the more agreeable to me. I have ten thousand doubts within myself, whether or not I should discover myself to you; but every argument against doing it has its foundation in pride. I am sure you will hold yourself bound to let no one living know of this application, or of my visit, till I release you for the obligation
 P.S. Remember that I must be secret, and that the gallery of the House is now so universally attended, that the face of a member of Parliament is pretty well known. William stuck with his conversion to Methodism and wrote a best-selling book A Practical View of Christianity thirteen years later. Early Political Life and Influences After graduating from Cambridge University, William Wilberforce chose to follow a career in politics and stood as Independent candidate, in an election for Hull's Member of Parliament. He won by an overwhelming majority and was elected to represent the citizens of Hull, at the age of just 21. The young Wilberforce was a natural politician. Following the deaths of his father and his uncle he had inherited enough money to financially support his political career. He was also well liked among Hull's merchant families, who hoped that he would represent their business interests in parliament. Two of Wilberforce's most appealing qualities were his engaging personality and his eloquent speaking voice - useful traits for a politician. He was so famous for his public speaking that he was nicknamed the 'Nightingale of the Commons'. On taking up his seat in the House of Commons, Wilberforce met up with his university friend, William Pitt the Younger, who had also chosen a political career. Pitt and Wilberforce spent much time studying the more experienced Members of Parliament from the Commons gallery, and listening to heated political debates of the day. Pitt enjoyed a very sucessful political career, becoming Prime Minister and the new Tory party leader in 1783, aged just 24. Although not quite as ambitious as Pitt, Wilberforce took the decision to stand as candidate for Member of Parliament for Yorkshire. This was one of only two county seats and on winning it, Wilberforce became a more influential politician. Following his conversion to Methodism in 1785, Wilberforce considered leaving politics. Yet, Pitt and John Newton convinced him to persevere and use his political work as a way of serving God. Wilberforce saw the campaign to abolish the Transatlantic Slave Trade as a way of following his religious and humanitarian beliefs, as well as his moral conscience.

We Need More Holy Fools

A man is trapped in a car, rushing down a hill toward a cliff. The doors are locked. The brakes are out. The steering barely works. Far ahead, he can see other cars hurtling into the abyss. How far they fall, he does not know. What they find at the bottom, he cannot imagine. But he does not seek to know; he does not try to imagine. Instead, he paints the windshield, climbs into the back seat, and puts in his headphones. This image, adapted from Peter Kreeft, captures my life in January 2008, as I walked down a college sidewalk in Colorado. The car was my body; the hill, time; the cliff, death. I was, as we all are, rushing toward the moment when my pulse would stop. And though unsure of what would come afterward, I found a thousand ways to look away. “The Lord looks down from heaven on the children of man, to see if there are any who understand, who seek after God” (Psalm 14:2). Like so many other children of men, I neither understood nor sought, I neither asked nor knocked, but let myself tumble through time without a thought of eternity. I was a “fool,” to put it bluntly (Psalm 14:1). And I desperately needed another kind of fool to wake me up. Puncturing the Daydream Few people, perhaps, would look at a normal Western life like mine — busy, successful, spiritually indifferent — and say, “folly.” But could it be because the folly is socially acceptable? Might we modern Western men and women have made a silent pact to ignore eternity? “Might we modern Western men and women have made a silent pact to ignore eternity?” Blaise Pascal, seventeenth-century Christian polymath, thought so. When Pascal looked round at his modern country, neighbors, and self, he saw a collective pathology, a shared insanity: “Man’s sensitivity to little things and insensitivity to the greatest things are marks of a strange disorder,” he said ( Christianity for Modern Pagans , 203). We cultivate hobbies, and follow celebrities, and read the news without knowing why we exist. We stumble through an unthinkably vast cosmos, circled round by unthinkably intricate wonders, too distracted to ask, “Who made this?” We develop firm opinions about politics, and care not whether souls live forever, and where. We look often into our mirrors and seldom into our deep and fallen hearts. A strange disorder indeed. And so, Pascal walked around with needles in hand, seeking to puncture the daydream of secular or religiously nominal apathy to eternity. His unfinished book  PensĂ©es  (abridged and explained in Kreeft’s masterful  Christianity for Modern Pagans ) may have been his sharpest needle. What Is a Life ‘Well-Lived’? Our lives here are hemmed in by mystery and uncertainty. We live on a small rock in an immense universe. We know little about where we came from or where we’re going. We struggle even to understand ourselves. But a few matters remain clear and unmistakable, including the great fact that, one day, we will die. Our car hurtles down the hill, lower today than yesterday. The abyss awaits. And what then? For secular or nominally religious countrymen like Pascal’s, and ours, the options are two: “the inescapable and appalling alternative of being annihilated or wretched throughout eternity” (191). Either Christianity is false, and our flickering candle goes out forever — or Christianity is true, and, awakening to life’s meaning too late, we fall “into the hands of a wrathful God” (193). A society like ours would lead us to believe that eighty years “well lived” (whatever that means) filled with “personal meaning” (whatever that means) makes for a good life; we need seek no more. To Pascal, those were the words of one who had painted the windshield black. Death, rightly reckoned with, functions like the final scene of a tragic play: it reaches its fingers back into all of life, disfiguring every moment, darkly witnessing that all is not well. “The last act is bloody, however fine the rest of the play,” Pascal writes. “They throw earth over your head and it is finished forever” (144). Stand above the hole in the ground, the dust from which we came and to which we’ll return (Genesis 3:19), and consider: “That is the end of the world’s most illustrious life” (191). “We ourselves are an enigma, wrapped in a world of mystery, headed inevitably for the grave.” We ourselves are an enigma, wrapped in a world of mystery, headed inevitably for the grave. Such a dire plight might send us searching for wisdom, if it weren’t for our insane “solution.” Insanity of Our ‘Solutions’ How do we — mortal men and women, nearing the cliff’s edge — typically respond to our plight? “We run heedlessly into the abyss after putting something in front of us to stop us seeing it” (145). We deny. We divert. We distract. Until one day we die. Of course, no one ever says, “I will distract myself because I don’t want to consider my death and what may come afterward.” We suppress the truth more subconsciously than that (Romans 1:18). Instinctively, we avoid the “house of mourning,” or else dress it with euphemisms, for fear of facing, terribly and unmistakably, that “this is the end of all mankind” — that this is  our  end (Ecclesiastes 7:2). Summarizing Pascal, Kreeft writes, If you are typically modern, your life is like a rich mansion with a terrifying hole right in the middle of the living-room floor. So you paper over the hole with a very busy wallpaper pattern to distract yourself. You find a rhinoceros in the middle of your house. The rhinoceros is wretchedness and death. How in the world can you hide a rhinoceros? Easy: cover it with a million mice. Multiply diversions. (169) Eighty years may seem like a long time to distract yourself from the most fundamental questions of life and death. But with hearts like ours, in a world like ours, it is not too long. Make a career. Raise a family. Build wealth. Plan vacations. Get promoted. Watch movies. Collect sports cards. Read the news. Play golf. Resist uncomfortable questions. We hang a curtain over the cliff’s edge that keeps us from seeing the abyss. But not from rushing into it. Sanest People in the World Our chosen “solution,” then, only aggravates our dire plight. Our distractions sedate us on the way to death rather than sending us searching for some escape. Which means the world has a desperate need for people like Pascal, men and women whom we might call (to use a phrase from church history)  holy fools . The term  holy fools  drips with the same irony Paul used when he spoke of “the foolishness of God” (1 Corinthians 1:25) and said, “We are fools for Christ” (1 Corinthians 4:10). In truth, holy fools are the world’s sanest people. They have felt the sting of sin and death. They have found deliverance in Jesus Christ. And now they are trying to tell the world. With Pascal, they see that “there are only two classes of people who can be called reasonable: those who serve God with all their heart because they know him and those who seek him with all their heart because they do not know him” (195). And so, holy fools call people into the “folly” that is our only sanity. They come to those caught in distraction, lost in diversion, and they serve, love, persuade, and prod. They risk reputation and comfort, willing to look foolish in the eyes of a wayward world. They bring eternity into everyday conversations with cashiers, neighbors, and other parents at the park. Boldly and patiently, courageously and graciously, they say, “See your death. See your sin. And seek him with all your heart.” To those bent on diversion, holy fools may seem imbalanced, extreme, awkward, pushy. But not to everyone. Some, as they hear of the Christ these fools preach, will catch a glimmer of “the power of God and the wisdom of God” (1 Corinthians 1:24). And they will become another fool for him. Give Us More Fools for Christ Pascal (and the apostle Paul) make me feel that I am not yet the fool I ought to be. Too often, I prefer social decorum to holy discomfort, this-worldly niceness to next-worldly boldness. But they also make me feel a keen gratitude for the holy fools among us, and a longing to be more like them. For I owe my life to one. In January 2008, as my little car rushed down the hill, and as I did what I could to cover my eyes, someone stopped me on the sidewalk. I would later learn that he belonged to a campus ministry widely known for sharing Jesus with students — widely known, but not widely loved. Their message was, to most, foolishness — and their way of stopping others on the sidewalk, a stumbling block. But to me that day, by grace, it looked like the wisdom of God. In time, I would realize that my various diversions could not deliver me from death. Nor could a life “well lived” forgive my sins or undig my grave. Only Jesus could. It took a holy fool to make me sane, and oh how the world needs more.

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