A Full And Silent Moon

Wednesday I continued work writing my history of the Jacksonville Fire Department. Most of the day I spent matching grainy old sepia photographs to thumbnail biographies of former fire chiefs.

This feature of the book helps with chronological accuracy but I’m being careful not to get bogged down in internal departmental politics. These of course need to be mentioned, but the emphasis I want spotlights heroism and selfless acts of firefighters over the past 150+ years.

Even though I’m writing a secular history, it contains a natural inspirational element, wholesome examples, little departmental politics and few scandals, odd incidents, acts of bravery, human interest — And even a few firefighter jokes. For example:

The teacher asked students to use the word ladder in a compound sentence.

To impress his teacher Johnny wrote: “The fireman climbed up the ladder into the burning building and when he climbed down he was pregnant”.

“Johnny,” she said. “You don’t even know the meaning of that word. Do you”?

“Sure I do,” he said. “It means carrying a child”.

Should be an interesting history book.

Recently I’ve been dealing with so many religious books, and the special tension that writing about the Lord brings, that it feels good to write straight history again. I don’t feel as though I’m walking on eggs as much, no souls hang in the balance, it’s just happy history.

But the thought occurs to me that anything a Christian writes is “Christian writing”. We do not have to strain to include testimony, we are testimony.

St. Paul said, “In whatsoever ye do in word or deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God and the Father by Him”.

In the light of that statement, a bus schedule written by a Christian, written in the name of Christ, weighs as much in eternity as a theology textbook. The love with which a work, any work, is done weighs more than the work itself.

Late last night after watching the forth episode of The War on tv, Ginny and I walked out into our back garden to watch the full moon rise above distant trees. Without talking we stood silent in the moonlight holding and kissing eachother.

Highpoint of my day.

Highpoint of my life.