by C. D. Baker
Wil looked at his father knowingly. He had seen the same vision and was comforted. He took a deep, resolute breath and planted his sturdy staff firmly into the pebbled bed of the River Weser. Frieda approached to lay a hand softly on his elbow, and he turned his shining eyes toward hers. “It is time,” he said.
Wil faced his father once more. “We ought to take our first steps together.”
The baker nodded humbly. “Together it shall be.”
Then, rendering their thanks to heaven, Wilhelm Godson Freimann and Heinrich Godson Lieberlicht squared their shoulders toward Stedingerland and smiled as their fellows made ready behind them. It was time to claim that which they had been given, to lay hold of the prize hard won. With seabirds soaring high above, the two stepped bravely into the kindly currents of their appointed destinies. The warm waters of the Weser welcomed them gladly, and with a triumphant shout they splashed through the clear river of liberty as freemen, well forged on the anvil of suffering and prepared by truth to serve others in the gardens of the sun.
THE END
THE CHRONICLES OF FRIEDA
Ego, Frieda Westphaliensis, uxor Wilhelmi Freimanni, anno Domini 1213, in order gloriam Dei, the auctori of all things, nunc chronicle the wisdom that has been offered by many along this journey of the souls. May these things be shared in the memory of my beloved brothers and sisters of crusade.
My ears have been blessed by my beloved friend Pieter, for whom my heart does yet ache. It has also been my great honor to learn from dear Heinrich, the father of my husband; from Signore Salito of Arona; from Sebastiani, the brave soldier of Domodossola; from the Waldensians Jean and Philip; and from Friar Oswald of Renwick.
My quill has been further blessed with the words of others I have never known such as Frau Emma of Weyer, Brother Lukas of Villmar Abbey, Sister Anoush of Rome, and Father Wilfrid of Zell. To these and to all who have passed the Bread of Life across the generations, I give my thanks.
Now, in the name of our Lord, I do present this humble portion of my gain to the child in my womb, to others yet unborn, and to their children and to their children’s children unto the end of time.
Amen.
Be these things considered:
Some of us shall find our end in shadows, others near the heavens. What matters is that we delight in whatever journey we are granted.
Nothing on earth rules with authority unless it rules according to God’s Law of Love.
Strong faith and strong opinions rarely share the same heart.
If we are to lead men, we must know this: even an unredeemed heart bears the mark of his Maker’s image. It is good to find that stamp in both friend and foe.
For those fearing death, let it be said that our heavenly Father would no more leave us alone in that dark valley than He would in any other.
The good farmer wanders over a fallow field and says, “I have hope.” When he plunges his plough into the earth, he is saying, “I believe.” He spreads his seed and says, “I trust.” When the warm sun and the gentle rain nudge tender blades through the hard ground, he smiles and says, “I knew.” And when the harvest is yielded and his storehouse is full, he is thankful, for he has been blessed.
Every lamb needs a ewe to lean upon. We all need more than a touch from the clouds.
Where love is, hope is.
God is not a hard taskmaster; we are stiff-necked students.
I believe in order to understand.
We are truly free when He fills us with the faith to do nothing and the wisdom to know when.
Notice your youth. Taste what of it you can and capture it in your mind, for such memories shall be your most prized treasure.
Here is a rub: the very thing that gives such value to our past is that which steals it away. For ‘tis only when the present fades to a memory that it becomes so very precious. Yet in such fading it does leave us. Oh, what a double-edged sword is this thing called “Time.”
Behind every belief is a premise; behind every premise lies a desire. Decisions are more often made by the will than the mind. We choose what to believe from our heart, not from reason. If one wants to change a man’s mind, one must first change his heart.
There are two kinds of anger, and they should be discerned. The first is the good anger of God. It is outraged at evil and ignited to defend the innocent; its target is the Evil One. The second is the rage of arrogance, the fruit of hard hearts defending their vanities; it is the child of disappointment and the grandchild of pride.
Preachers need to know that brevity is oft a good substitute for ability!
God can do miracles as and when He wishes, and it is a wise man who seeks them. But they are not for our taking. Our task is to act on what is before us in plain view. Our faith ought not to presume on God.
We must face this troubled world as it is, not as we would hope it to be.
Our Father above forgives His children always—and not because it is deserved on their account. If forgiveness could be earned, it would not be forgiveness at all, but rather a bartered exchange.
Beware the sinister code that demands us to be right rather than forgiven. We are never truly right, for there is a quality of either error or pride that stains all we do. Hence, we are wise to live aware of our unending need for forgiveness.
Self-reliance is a merciless tyrant. It blinds the eyes, its appetite is never quenched, and it never rests.
If we choose to trust ourselves alone, we shall surely spend our days in the grip of a dragon.
We are allowed to suffer sadness, sickness, poverty, pain, or even failings, for these He mysteriously redeems as paths to His mercies and, hence, to Him.
Simplicity may bring joy, but two ways of simplicity exist. The first way is the simplicity of blindness, and it is never a virtue. The second way understands that simple truths do, indeed, govern the world. But they are only understood on the far side of complexity.
It is important that we look beyond the steps of our own little journey.
Perhaps there is never a time for treachery, but cunning has its place!
Our miseries are but the heavy labors of a worthy Gardener, working and kneading God’s soil into our hard, barren hearts. He has planted vineyards of sweet grapes within each of His children. Indeed, we stand upon Holy Ground that is well worked into each of our hearts.
Sad is the man who is blind to the order, beauty, and goodness that lie amidst the confusion of the world. The earth may groan for a time, waiting for its redemption, but it groans in hope. For wherever there is evil, there is always a reminder of good. We see both tears and smiles, clouds and sunshine, death and birth, sickness and healing, hunger and plenty. For every night there is a day.
Our sufferings seem to be that which do most surely draw us closer to Him. And in that closeness we will find love, not madness; hope, not despair.
We are changed in our sufferings. Like a thirsty tree in drought, our roots grow deeper into the source of our life. The confusions and miseries in this world are but tools in God’s workbox—tools to incline us toward Him and the mysterious joy that awaits our meeting.
Our God is the known and the unknown, together and the same. He is the source of sunlight and shadows, smiles and tears. It is the heart of God that is our haven, the mighty keep of all joy and all pain, all triumphs and all failures.
Mystery is our destined boundary. We may choose to stand before either the mysteries of fear or the mysteries of hope.
We ought to observe a simple flower and consider the heart that might design such a thing. Even the edges are laced with delicate color so that another’s eye might look and be glad.
Can we not see that the God of the storm yet tends the beauty of a wildflower?
The flower is our symbol of the presence of God, and the cross is a symbol of His love. By them we know these two things: that God is there and that He cares. Know these and we need to know little else.
Beware of falsely religious men. They destroy all that is
within their grasp.
Knowing who hates you can teach you much about yourself.
Where Truth is present, light is present.
Color is the fruit of light.
Beware of virtues, for they easily become objects of arrogance.
Things are not always as they seem, for sometimes they are so much better.
Sunshine is hope; moonlight is mercy. The sun is but a sign like its sister the moon. They both urge us to look past our world to the sure things above.
God’s gifts are for those humble enough to abandon themselves.
True humility draws a man’s face upward, not downward.
What our eyes see, our tongues taste, our noses smell, our ears hear, and our fingers touch do much to call upon the spirit within us.
Freedom, like hope, is a birthright from God.
Truth is what remains when all else fails.
Wounded people serve others well, for our God is a God of scars.
A man has a right to keep what is his so long as none in his view are starving.
Fixing the eyes on failure is like staring into a chasm, for it draws us to disaster.
God’s mercy is not His only gift… it is just the beginning of gifts. He offers us so much more than forgiveness; He offers us the whole of His love.
Faith is not proven by things attained but by walking in love.
Guilt sprouts where shame is planted. Hope grows where trust is sown.
Suffering is the path to faith and the doorway to compassion.
Greed is oft found in proportion to gain.
The promises of a priest will do more to prompt alms than the face of a hungry child.
Someday, when our strength wanes and our virtues fail, when we long for hope, we must turn our eyes upward and find the other way.
The sun always shines; it is only hidden by the clouds.
Where the light is brightest, the shadows are darkest.
We must not let our regrets rule us, else they become who we are.
The sight of heaven makes all of life easier.
Live life wisely, and have a care for the passing of time. For our world is like a garden and we like roses. Our blooms open and spread over others fading nearby. In time, new buds shall surely come, and they will bloom fresh and fragrant near our own withering petals. It is the cycle of life—the way it ought to be … and it is good.
Ours is an astonishing journey. Indeed, goodness and mercy have followed us, and the swords of heaven’s legions go before.
To have a handle on trouble, we must first name it.
Preachers and balladeers have much in common: they both make things up!
God and nature do not work together in vain. He gives us this earth as a glimpse of His greater glory; it is a reminder that He is present in all things, and from that we can draw hope.
Repentance follows forgiveness, and that is the very essence of redemption.
Order and love are not always friends.
The conscience is reached by love.
We are never too far gone for grace to find us, nor too close for us to need it.
Do not be so proud as to carry shame.
The past is oft a good place to remember but not a good place to dwell.
See the host and his diners seated before a table spread with a bounty of good things. This is a fitting image of the kingdom of God.
All men are either poets or merchants. Poets see beauty for what it is; merchants see it for what it does.
Any of us can become the ugliest face of our idols. If we worship wealth, we become greedy. If we worship power, we become tyrants.
Men may call us bound or free, foolish or wise, brave or cowardly, even saintly or wicked, but it is heaven that has already declared who we truly are.
We must believe in the Word and learn to want what it offers. For, in the end, we will live as we have learned to want.
Some only pretend to be forgiven, for they pretend they are sinners.
Many fear their reputation, but few their conscience. Yet have a care. The conscience can be a tyrant as well. It is not always a proper master.
There should be no war between faith and reason. Our faith is reasonable, though it does not stand or fall upon logic. After all, it stands on grace, and that is not logical at all.
We are not called to know all things, but to trust the One who does.
Unlike the intellect, faith has no bounds; it is a gift of the Infinite.
In this world of sorrows we do not often have pure choices. So when two virtues are in collision, we are to pray for the wisdom to choose the higher.
When we seek joy, we ought to seek it humbly, for we shall not be joyful until our old affections are taken away. When we seek patience, we must do so carefully, for we shall not have it until ours has been greatly tested. When we seek wisdom, we should tremble, for first we must be stripped of all that we thought was true.
Who we are is not how we look, from whence we’ve come, or what we have. We are not what we do, nor even what we think. Nay, in the end, who we are is what we love.
It is good that God’s love for us does not depend on our love for Him.
The wax walls of the honeycomb are like the words of man’s knowledge. But the hive is far more than walls of wax. It is in the emptiness of the waiting cell where the true wonder lies. It is the airy place that will soon fill with sweetness.
Even so, truth is not confined to things known. Rather, it also dwells in the spaces between the words, in the silence of the cells, in the mystery. To be sure, as the worker bees enlarge the hive, they add more wax around more air. Likewise, as we increase in knowledge, we, too, add more mystery.
Lead by serving; it is the way of wisdom.
We followers of the Christ are called His sons and daughters. That, above all else, is our true selves.
To live free, live for something greater than yourself.
Draw from the past, for it is a deep well of wisdom. Keep an eye on the future, for there is hope. But do not fail to live for today, for it is what binds wisdom and hope together.
Ad Amairem Dei Gloriam
READERS’ GUIDE
What is the current condition of your life? Do you struggle with close personal relationships? Are you controlled by negative emotions or destructive behavior patterns? Do you feel as though you don’t belong or even wonder why you were born? Are you terrified by the future and what it holds? If any of these issues plagues your daily existence, there is good news! The Bible says, “You did not receive the spirit of bondage again to fear, but you received the Spirit of adoption by whom we cry out, ‘Abba, Father.’ The Spirit Himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs—heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ, if indeed we suffer with Him, that we may also be glorified together” (Rom. 8:15-17 NKJV).
This truth is beautifully illustrated by the continuing story of Heinrich of Weyer. Having gained newfound freedom of spirit in Christ, our hero faces new sorrows and trials as he continues his journey. His resolve and determination are tested, but as he grows in greater understanding of the truth of God’s love, he experiences renewed joy as well. Maria, conceived in sin, yet tender of spirit and beautifully made in the image of her Creator, becomes the child of Heinrich’s heart—his own in every way that matters. In a surprising twist of fate, he is reunited with his longtime friend Blasius, son of the dreaded Gunnars. Through the power of forgiveness, Heinrich seeks to be restored to relationship with his son Wil. Every step of the way, God is calling him out of his old ways, desiring to make him whole, righteous, and one with his heavenly Father.
The apostle Paul wrote, “If anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come!” (2 Cor. 5:17). Yet adoption is not always a smooth transition. Like Heinrich, we must decide where we belong. Do we return to the old way—with its pain, suffering, and bondage? To the sin that is comfortable and easy in its familiarity? Or do we pursue the promise o
f life in Christ, which alone brings joy, honor, and liberty? True freedom is experienced to the extent we are enabled to leave behind forever those things that hinder and enslave us. We must be willing to say to ourselves, “Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus” (Phil. 3:13-14). Such is the heart of a true pilgrim.
Chapter 1
1. Despite their miraculous escape from the slave ship, the crusaders suffer additional losses. As they bury their dead, Pieter paraphrases Psalm 34: “I will bless the Lord at all times; His praise shall be always in my mouth.” Why is it necessary to praise Him at all times? Why is this often so difficult, particularly in tragic situations? What effect does praise have on our circumstances?
2. Heinrich chooses to set aside his grief in order to help the surviving crusaders. How does he exemplify the role of a servant? What does Pieter mean when he says, “Our God is a God of scars. Wounded people serve others well”? In what ways has suffering or loss in your own life affected your ability to relate to others?
Chapter 2
3. Why are the children afraid to return home? Are their fears reasonable? What does Pieter’s message convey about the true meaning of success? In your own life, have you defined success and accomplishment according to the world’s standard or the standard of faith? In what ways can even the most simple, unremarkable life achieve great things in the kingdom of God?
4. How does Heinrich respond to Pieter’s question about where he truly belongs? Given Heinrich’s new freedom of spirit, why does he still find his identity in his old, bound, miserable existence? How is this similar to the behavior of the Israelites in the Old Testament? Have you ever found it easier to return to “things familiar” than to trust God in a new and better place?
