Gentle, cooling rains, accompanied by a few flashes of lightning and restrained peals of thunder, made sleeping last night almost pleasant. The summer heat has been virtually unbearable, and all of us have found ourselves struggling to stay comfortable. So warm, humid, and sticky has it been, with a near universal absence of air conditioning, that a few jokes have passed around the dinner table about whether we are in Oxford, Mississippi and not Oxford, England. To have a few days of rain and the wafts of refreshing air blowing through the window on the quad was wonderful. And though I do not doubt the capacity of the British thunderstorm to let loose on occasion with destructive intensity, yesterday’s evening storm was fully in character with every stereotype of the British people–proper, refined, and altogether repressed by the canons of decency and politeness.
I spent a portion of the afternoon yesterday with friends touring Magdalen College, the great fifteenth century institution known for both Cardinal Wolsey and Sir Thomas More, along with Wm. Tyndale, Thomas Hobbes, and of course C.S. Lewis, among the most famous of the college’s fellows. Magdalen is remarkable for its wealth, and for its concomitant spaciousness and relative opulence. With its soaring, solid tower, from which Charles I defended himself against his besieging countrymen, its ornate chapel, and its spread of adjoining buildings around the deer park, the contrast with Regent’s Park College could hardly be sharper. Other Oxford colleges surpass Magdalen in various singular respects, but I doubt any of them are grander taken altogether. Still, it is strikingly apparent that, however far separated in terms of resource Regent’s Park and the likes of Magdalen may be, the basic physical arrangements of the Oxford College are what serve as the animating principle of its success. Life together in community, joined in by those committed to finding truth, and enabled by the shared practices of prayer, table fellowship, study, and close conversation, among others.
Our seminar discussions are going generally well each day, occupying the better part of the mornings. The theme set for the meeting, by my design when we crafted the call for papers last year, was organized around the question of what Baptists have to learn from and to contribute to the longer, larger Christian tradition. As it turned out, a solid core of our participants ended up drawn from the authors of the so-called Baptist Manifesto: Curtis Freeman, Barry Harvey, and Elizabeth Newman, among other later signatories–Mark Medley, Philip Thompson, and Scott Moore. Here we have an exceptional group of faithful thinkers committed to Christian catholicity, and to the common cause in which they are joined. . . .
I spoke to Michele by phone for the first time last night since leaving Waco on Saturday. The phone had 3:28 of time left on it when I started the call, so our conversation was hurried and brief. How sweet to hear her voice, to know that she and Zachary are well, and that my daily prayers for God’s peace and protection have been answered.
