Introduction to the Introduction of "A Testament of Devotion"



     In an effort to introduce some of my friends to what it is

exactly  about Quakerism that strikes a familiar chord within me,

I have exerpted the introduction here to my favorite Quaker book

called, "A Testament of Devotion", by Thomas Kelly.  The book is a

slim book of 129 pages, but I find it speaks to me like almost no

other modern books I have read.







           Introduction to, "A Testament of Devotion"



     I still remember my first encounter with A Testament of

Devotion many years ago.  It was a cold, rainy February morning,

and I had just slumped into a chair at the Dulles International

Airport to wait for my flight.  Exhausted from a hectic schedule

of "muchness" and "manyness," I was glad for the solitude of

airport and airplane as I made the trek from D.C. to L. A..

     I pulled out the slender volume I had brought along for

reading during free moments.  Immediately Thomas Kelly caught my

attention by describing perfectly my condition and the condition

of so many I knew: "We feel honestly the pull of many obligations

and try to fulfill them all.  And we are unhappy, uneasy,

strained, oppressed, and fearful we shall be shallow."  Yes, I had

to confess I saw myself in those words.  To all who knew me, I was

confident and in command, but inwardly I was tired and scattered. 

Then my eyes came upon words of hope and promise" We have hints

that there is a way of life vastly richer and deeper than all this

hurried existence, a life of unhurried serenity and peace and

power.  If only we could slip over into that Center!" 

     Instinctively, I knew that he was speaking of a reality beyond my

experience.  Please understand me, I was not ungodly or irreverent

- just the opposite.  My problem was that I was so serious, so

concerned to do what was right, that I felt compelled to respond

to every call to service.  After all, they were wonderful

opportunities to minister in Christ's name.  The end result,

however, was what Kelly describes as "an intolerable scramble of

panting feverishness."

     Then came the sentence that was to prompt an inner

revolution: "We have seen and known some people who seem to  have

found this deep Center of living, where the fretful calls of life

are integrated, where no as well as yes can be said with

confidence."   I knew I had been found out.  This ability to say

yes and no out of "the divine Center,' as Kelly calls it, was

foreign to me.  Oh, I could say yes easily enough, because

opportunities to serve carried an aura of spirituality and

sacrifice.  But to say no was another matter altogether.  What

would people think of me if I refused?

     Even in that congested airport terminal I was utterly alone

with Alone.  The cold rain splattering on the window was matched

by the hot tears splattering on me jacket.  The chair where I sat

was a holy place, an altar.  I was never to be the same.  Quietly,

I asked God to give me the ability to say no when it was right and

good.

     Back home, I was once again caught up in a flurry of

activity. But I had made one decision:  Friday nights were to be

reserved for the family.  It was a small decision at the time;

nobody but I knew about it.  I shared it with my wife Carolynn and

the boys  in a casual, offhand fashion; they did not know that it

was a covenant commitment, a crossroads decision. Nor did I,

really.  It just seemed like the right thing to do - hardly what

you would call a God - given directive.

     But then the phone call came.  It was a denominational

executive.  Would I be willing to speak to such-and-such a group

next Friday night?  There it was, another wonderful opportunity. 

Almost without thinking I blurted out, "oh, no, I can't."  The

response was measured.  "Oh, do you have another commitment?"  I

felt trapped.  (In those days I did not know that I could quite

legitimately say that I did indeed have a very important

commitment.)  Cautiously but purposefully, I answered simply,

"No," with no attempt to justify or explain my decision.  There

followed what seemed like an eternity of silence.  I could almost

feel the condemnation traveling through the telephone wires.  I

knew I had made a decision that made me seem less dedicated to

someone for whom I genuinely cared.  After a moment we shared a

few pleasantries and then hung up.

     But as the phone hit the receiver I jumped out of my chair

shouting, "Hallellujah!"  I had yielded to the Center, and the

result was electrifying.  That simple, "no", coming out of divine

promptings set me free from the tyranny of others.  Even more, it

set me free from my own inner clamoring for attention and

recognition and applause.  

     This incident is so small and insignificant that it is

almost embarrassing to relate it to you.  I'm sure my

denominational friend does not even recall the phone conversation. 

And yet I had turned a corner.  Even now I sometimes wish that

something terribly important precipitated such an inner

transformation.  But there it is, a trivial event, yet it changed

everything for me. Perhaps it has been that way for you also.  At

least I know that often the genuinely significant issues are

decided in the small corners of life.  And one of the greatest

gifts that Thomas Kelly brings to us is an ability to see the Holy

in the most common of places and the most unexpected of events.

     Since that first day in a Washington D.C. airport, I have

returned often to "A Testament of Devotion".  Each time I leaf

through the pages of this book, I know I am in the presence of a

giant soul.  I am the better for the encounter.  I'm sure you will

be too.

                   -Above introduction by Richard J. Foster-

- A quick search of local public municipal libraries in the Tampa Bay area revealed no copies in my usual library haunts. Searching a little further, I located copies in all of the "religious college" libraries in the area. My regular public library's inter-library-loan system was more than happy to arrange for me to get a copy.