Young men desire greatness, and we offer them comfort.

Young men desire glory, and we offer them safety.

Young men are starving for nobility, human excellence, and all the glory, honor, and fame that comes with it.

Yet, how can they live a life they never see?

Well, here are 12 ancient texts to help young men see the spirited life.

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Young Men Need to See Greatness

Young men desire adventure, and we give them screens. Young men desire the heroic act, and we give them comfort. Young men desire glory, and we give them “safe places.” It is a tale almost as old as the West itself—young men must leave the comfort of their homes and achieve something glorious. It is in the adventure that they find themselves and their true capacities.

Young men must become thumotic. In the Iliad and Odyssey, Homer uses the term thumos to refer to the spirit of man, a nascent understanding of the soul. Odysseus, for example, will speak to his own thumos while enduring the battering seas of Poseidon. In Plato, the term is refined to mean the part of the soul that desires nobility—a human excellence. When the thumos satiates in what is noble it produces glory, honor, and fame—men do great deeds and immortalize their names within history. It is the part of the soul perfected by courage, for the thumotic must be brave to overcome the difficulties that merit honor and glory.

Young men must become thumotic.

In English, the word is often translated as spiritedness or the spirited part of the soul. And despite our age of comfort and safety, this part of the soul still yearns for nobility and honor—especially in the hearts of young men. One thinks of Telemachus in the Odyssey, and how he must leave his home and mature—he must become a man, a threat to the suitors devouring his father’s house.

And how do young men learn to be thumotic?

The power of memetics.

Young men need to see the thumos in action—they need to see spirited men doing great deeds. They have to be shown that this type of life, the life of glory and excellence, is a true choice. In our age of so-called civility, it is more difficult for a young man to see the thumotic in action.

Even worse, the thumotic is often intentionally hammered out of young men—cultivating them to be soft, passive, and indecisive.

So, where can young men experience the memetic power of the thumotic?

In ancient texts.

The following is an introductory text on some of the best texts on thumotics from the ancient Hebrew, Greek, and Roman cultures.

1. Exodus (The Story of Moses)

Every man needs to study the life of Moses. Both Jewish and early Christian thought turned to the life of Moses as the quintessential image of the spiritual life—and this includes the thumotic. He is the orphan, the prince, the shepherd, the messiah, and the lawgiver. Moses was educated in the royal house of Pharaoh and knew how to bring together a people; moreover, like most thumotic men, he was hot-tempered and that anger led him at times to righteousness and other times to failure. There is no greater story than the life of Moses—for it is a pattern for the thumotic soul’s ascendancy to God and glory.

2. Book of Joshua

The Book of Joshua is about war and conquest. Joshua, the leader after Moses, receives the direct order “Be strong and courageous” and obeys by conquering the promised land against overwhelming odds. The text cultivates thumos by showing what disciplined, obedient boldness looks like when a man steps into leadership after a great leader like Moses.

In Joshua, the power of memetics shows a leader willing to achieve the glory and future promises to his people—an amazing example of overcoming difficulties.

3. Book of Judges (The Samson Narrative)

Few stories benefit young men more than the narrative of Samson. Outside the tremendously spirited acts he accomplished, Samson is also a warning to young men. You may cultivate a tremendous bravery to cover difficult things—but have you cultivated temperance? What if the evil that comes against you isn’t a raging lion but a beautiful woman? Like David and Solomon, Samson teaches young men that being spirited is not enough—to be truly excellent one must cultivate all the natural virtues: prudence, justice, temperance, and fortitude.

And Samson is also a story of redemption—of when you fail finding a path back to glory. Samson died with his boots on and took down more Philistines in his death than he did throughout his entire life. He became a blind slave, but he died in glory.

4. I & II Samuel

There are few pieces of literature in the ancient world that can rival the story of David. From the humble shepherd boy to the giant-killer to the warrior-poet-king of Israel, David’s life is an amazing image for the young masculine mind. David is an archetype. He is a man after God’s own heart, a man of righteous anger and poetic beauty. And yes, like Samson, he falls into great sin and suffers for it—but David’s story is also one of redemption.

Young men need to understand the story of David and why God loved him.

5. I & II Kings

Often neglected, the stories contained in first and second Kings offer a lot to the young masculine mind. Stories of the throne, courage, prophets, warrior-kings, and more give a myriad of lessons on justice and leadership. These stories also show that it is one thing to acquire the throne but another to rule—can the thumotic soul not only win the throne but rule wisely? Again, the thumotic is an entrance to the entire moral life and cannot be divorced from virtue over all.

6. Iliad

Often seen as the text of memetic power par excellence, the rage of Achilles and the piety of Hector clash in tremendous tales of courage, excellence, and strength. The rage of Achilles reflects the fire in the hearts of young men—especially those who find their nobility and excellence throttled by bureaucracy and lesser men. Hector, the first of the nine-worthies in the medieval tradition, is an example of both piety and failure. He is the hero of Troy and defends his polis with strength and honor until his death—an image of piety toward the gods, the polis, and the family.

The Iliad, as Socrates tells us, is about justice, but Homer’s lessons are wrapped in gory tales of arete, combat, and personal glory. It is a tale of both the thumotic and its limits. It is a must-read for all young men.

7. Odyssey

Most people focus on the coming home story of Odysseus, but the Odyssey is also about the coming of age story of his son, Telemachus. The young man must leave his home and its influences and become a man—he must find his thumos and become a threat to those who endanger his father’s house. Odysseus too gives a heroic image, one different than the Iliad, of a man who needs both spiritedness and cleverness to survive the journey home. Like Moses and David, Odysseus is not without his faults, and Homer often presents him as a character in tension—but the lessons are found in those comparisons.

The coming home and coming of age stories of the Odyssey make it a must-read for any young man.

8. Plutarch’s Lives

Plutarch’s Lives has memetic power as its purpose. Plutarch gives you short biographies of great men—Alexander, Caesar, Cato, Alcibiades, and more—to show you how real men have grasped glory. He offers a thousand lessons on what to imitate and what to avoid. For young men this is pure memetic fuel: dozens of concrete archetypes of thumotic excellence (and failure) that bypass abstract philosophy and go straight to the part of the soul that is desirous of immortal glory.

9. Xenophon’s Anabasis

One of the best but most neglected books for young men, the Anabasis tells the tremendous journey of ten thousand Greek mercenaries who become stranded deep in the Persian Empire and must journey home. The book is thumos in action: no miracles, no safety net, just grit, discipline, and the refusal to submit. Its memetic power is visceral—a true template for leadership and endurance.

10. Marcus Aurelius’ Meditations

Written by one of the two most powerful men in the world, the Meditations is a real-life philosopher-king trying to channel raw thumotic energy into disciplined leadership. A stoic masterpiece, the Meditations pushes the thumotic to the next level—a level of control and reason. In many ways, the maxims of Marcus Aurelius provide the young thumotic soul the next step in its ascendancy toward glory and excellence.

11. Arrian’s The Campaigns of Alexander

Arrian, drawing on eyewitness sources, delivers the definitive ancient account of Alexander the Great’s conquest of the known world—from Greece to India—at the head of his loyal companions. It radiates pure thumos: relentless drive, tactical genius, physical courage, and the refusal to stop even when his own men beg for rest. Alexander the Great is the quintessential young, thumotic conqueror—a model for even Julius Caesar. Most importantly, Alexander the Great showed young men what was possible—to be a world-conqueror. Empire was possible in the West.

12. Julius Caesar’s Commentaries on the Gallic War

Written by Caesar himself, this is the ultimate commander’s dispatch from the front lines: seven years of brutal campaigning, bridge-building, siege warfare, and turning hostile Gaul into Roman territory. It cultivates thumos through calculated boldness, speed of decision, and total ownership of outcomes. Its memetic power is direct and practical—young men absorb the mindset of the man who writes his own victories while making war look like disciplined art, teaching that real leadership means marching into the unknown and imposing your will on chaos.

But what about Jesus…?

Christians teach that grace perfects nature. In other words, participating in the life of God (“grace”) both heals and elevates what men and women have by nature—and this includes the thumos as part of the soul and the natural virtue that perfects it, courage. In other words, the teachings of Jesus on grace presuppose natural virtue. But the perfection from conqueror to martyr, from Achilles to Christ, is a step that best comes when young men have first learned to be brave—to be thumotic. For more on this, see Turning the Other Cheek is not Weakness and also, similarly, When “Love Your Enemy” means Justice.

St. Maximus did not teach against the thumotic, but taught the thumotic must be bridled by gentleness. St. Basil did not teach to reject the pagans, but rather to read them as a natural preliminary to the Bible—a preliminary that will make you a better reader of the Bible. Once again, the classical pagans are not a threat to Christianity, but rather help it raise even higher.

Dcn. Harrison Garlick is a deacon, husband, father, Chancellor, and attorney. He lives in rural Oklahoma with his wife and five children. He is also the host of Ascend: The Great Books Podcast. Follow him on X at Dcn. Garlick or Ascend.

A father lies weeping on his young daughter’s grave.

This haunting medieval tale shatters expectations and teaches a profound lesson on the order of love.

Christians often think of morality as choosing between good and evil.

But much of morality is actually choosing between goods.

And no story teaches you this better than this one about a lost, little pearl.

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The Lost Pearl

We come upon a man who has lost something.

A spotless pearl has slipped through his fingers and is now lost in the earth. He grieves and cries. His heart hurts with a cruel pain and a torment churns within his chest (Pearl, no. 2). He lays on the mound in the garden still seeking his pearl—but his pearl will never be found.

For the pearl that slipped through his fingers into the earth was his young daughter, not even two years old, now buried beneath him.

He lays on her grave crying out for his perfect pearl, and he drifts into sleep.

Providence provides the father with a vision. The man is transported to a celestial garden with crystal cliffs and jeweled forests (nos. 7-9). He walks until he comes to a river with waves like glass illuminated by light, shining like the stars.

On the other side of the river, he observes great heavenly cliffs, and at their base, walking by the river, he sees a beautiful young woman (no.14). She is arrayed like a heavenly queen, a bride of Christ, with glistening robes all adorned with pearls.

The longer the man looks, the more his heart knows that this young woman is somehow his daughter—now grown and arrayed with the beauty of heaven. She is his spotless pearl. Overcome with bliss, his heart expands just to contain the joy. The father cries out to his lost daughter.

Yet, the reunion does not go as he hopes.

Read more

Life is a cosmic play.

And the Divine Playwright has given you a role.

You are called to a life that was written for you before the foundations of the earth were laid. Every person has a part. No one is excluded. No one is relegated to the background.

You matter to God and to this grand human drama in a deep, eternal way.

But here is the question: Can you hear the Voice calling you to your role?

Let’s discover how to discern your vocation.

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What is a vocation?

Vocation comes from the Latin word vocare, meaning “to be called.” Christians use it as a term that means—what is God calling me to do with my life? You have thousands of choices you will make in your life, but a vocation is something deeper, more existential—it is kneaded into your very existence here on earth.

You can look at this life as a beautiful, cosmic play. Everyone has an assigned role. Everyone has a script written for them before God laid the foundations of the earth. There are no meaningless characters. No NPCs. There is no one who does not matter. Every single person is an actor in this grand human drama because, we all share the same Playwright, the same Divine Author who created you with intentionality and love.

You mean something.

Remember, Christians teach that even if you were the only person on earth, Christ still would have died for you. And there is no human soul for whom God did not die. You have worth—you have worth to God in that vertical, intimate relationship and you have worth horizontally amongst your human family, as you have an important part to play in this grand human drama.

Do not sell yourself short.

But how do you know your role?

How do I know my vocation?

So, how do you discern what God is calling you to do in this life?

There are many paths before you.

First, draw close to God. If you want to see in the dark, draw close to the Consuming Fire. Many try and stand apart from God and hear His voice when they need it. And you draw close to Him not necessarily to discover your vocation, but simply to better remake yourself in His image. Christians see their path as being one of sanctification or theosis—one that calls you to be more God-like. Knowing your vocation comes from knowing God.

How do you do this?

Prayer, fasting, and almsgiving are the traditional ways of drawing close to God. Spend time with Him in prayer each morning and each evening—make each day look like a miniature of your whole life, beginning and ending with God. Prayer helps to perfect the intellect—and do not be afraid to pray alongside and with texts, like the Bible or books written by the saints. You can read holy works in a slow, prayerful manner.

Fasting helps you to control your baser appetites. In other words, it bridles the appetitive part of your soul, the part that loves pleasure. Though pleasure is not bad per se, the desire for it must be reined in by reason. You could give up lunch once a week and fill that time with prayer or reading the Bible. Fasting is always a bulwark against lust, gluttony, and other sins of incontinence.

Almsgiving helps you cultivate a reliance on God—to detach from worldly concerns and gravitate toward a greater dependency on God. It perfects the spirited part of the soul, the thumotic, by having the courage to detach and rely on God in a radical way.

All of these help the soul draw close to God, and those close to God better discern their vocation. It is hard to hear God’s voice if you do not know Him. Many desire some secret, esoteric way to discern their vocation—but knowing God’s will for your life comes with becoming God-like. You have to have a relationship with Him.

What signs, however, accompany having the right vocation?

How do I know I have the right role in this grand human drama?

How do I know I have the right vocation?

One of the surest signs that you have found God’s calling for your life is peace. When you draw close to God’s will for your life, you feel like you have come home. You feel you are where you are supposed to be. Remember that peace is not simply the absence of conflict but the tranquility of order. When you step into your vocation, you step into harmony—you are playing your part in the cosmic play and the script feels right.

This does not mean there will not be difficulties. Think of the vocations of Abraham, Moses, or David. Doing what God has called you to do often includes difficult challenges—but you know you can face them, because you are where God has called you to be. You do not feel lost or unsettled. No matter the challenge, you feel a resounding sense of peace and belonging. Every vocation has a cross.

Yet, God does not reveal everything all at once.

Sometimes in your vocation, all you can discern is the next step. A young man or woman may feel called to marriage, but not have clarity on who they are supposed to marry—the call now is to grow closer to Christ and prepare for the vocation of marriage.

Similarly, a young man who feels he may be called to the priesthood may find the question “are you called to be a priest?” too much—the real question is whether you are called to discern the priesthood.

God often only shows you one step at a time.

And you move toward what brings you spiritual satisfaction, existential peace.

And here is one more aspect to watch—to not have too rigid an understanding of the vocation to which you are called. What does this mean? Well, a man might be called to marriage, but he needs to be open to receiving the reality of marriage—not his preconceived notion of it. You need to be open and malleable to both if God is calling you to something and your understanding of that thing being made more perfect.

But it is in pursuing the vocation with God that the goal becomes more clear.

As you draw closer to the fire, you see more clearly.

If you bring in preconceived notions about your vocation, it can make you recalcitrant to formation—to God working on you to see the good in the thing He’s calling you to be.

Vocations as an Act of Trust

Overall, your vocation is about trust. It is about trusting your Maker to reveal to you the purpose for which you were made. We all have universal vocations, like to love God and neighbor, but we also have particular vocations—a role only we can play.

You’re not alone.

Discerning your vocation is about staying close to God and staying close to those who help you become more God-like. In that intimacy with God, you hear His voice—you feel the path he has for you, by faith and reason, and you place yourself in His hands.

He is the Divine Playwright.

And you have a special role to play—for your good and the good of all.

Dcn. Harrison Garlick is a deacon, husband, father, Chancellor, and attorney. He lives in rural Oklahoma with his wife and five children. He is also the host of Ascend: The Great Books Podcast. Follow him on X at Dcn. Garlick or Ascend.

What if how you handled money was a mirror for your soul?

In the fourth circle of hell, Dante shows you the spiritual harm of avarice (greed).

The architecture of Dante’s hell is pedagogical—it contains a lesson. Through the grotesque guardian of the fourth circle and the hidden image amongst the damned therein, he reveals how a disordered love of money can fracture God’s call for your life.

The question of avarice is not reducible to how you relate to wealth. It also asks how you see yourself within the cosmos, within God’s Providence.

The choice is yours.

Will avarice render you irrational, an imbecile?

Or will you steward what God has entrusted to you according to reason?

Choose wisely and ascend.

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The Structure of Hell as a Lesson

The architecture of hell is pedagogical. It is here to teach you a lesson—and the location of avarice is no exception.

Avarice (also called greed) is one of the seven deadly vices. It is a disordered love of money and material goods, classically expressed as an inordinate desire to acquire and hoard riches. Dante the Poet places avarice in upper hell, which punishes sins of incontinence—an inability of the soul to bridle its desire of some good. Sins of incontinence include lust (circle two), gluttony (circle three), avarice (circle four), and wrath (circle five). It is distinct from lower hell, which punishes the malicious sins of violence and fraud.

Dante’s hell shows you that avarice is a sin of incontinence that is worse than lust or gluttony but less serious than wrath and the sins of malice—for the lower you are in hell the more severe the sin. And Dante’s architecture of hell has many other lessons, as discussed elsewhere.

But the fourth circle has several surprises.

It has a guardian.

It has more than one type of sinner.

And it makes a secret image.

The Surprising Guardian of the Avaricious

Upon arriving in the fourth circle of hell, Dante the Pilgrim and Virgil run into the esoteric guardian of the avaricious: Plutus. In Greek mythology, he is the ancient god of riches, bountiful harvests, and material abundance, often depicted carrying a cornucopia. He is often conflated, even in ancient mythology, with Hades (in Greek mythology) and Pluto (in Roman mythology), the god of the underworld. Dante the Poet may arguably be playing here with this conflation or mythological overlap.

The guardian being Plutus makes sense, as he’s a minor god of material abundance; but to the degree this figure also represents Pluto, the pagan god of the underworld, you would think he would have a more prominent role in a poem about hell. So, what makes Pluto (Hades) a good image of avarice?

The first clue comes with Virgil calling Plutus the “cursed Wolf of hell,” which is a reference back to the she-wolf that blocked Dante the Pilgrim’s way in the first canto of the poem—the she-wolf represents incontinence, an insatiable desire that consumes the soul. To wit, Plutus is an image of incontinence.

But how would Hades or Pluto, the god of the underworld, represent avarice?

It is because being the god of the underworld also makes Pluto the god of what comes from the ground: wealth. He represents the gold, silver, and jewels that the avaricious crave; thus, whether it is Plutus, Pluto, or some mixture thereof, this bizarre figure represents a full picture of material goods—both on the earth and under the earth.

Yet, even more odd, Dante presents this mythological creature as an imbecile. He is not the glorious god of Hades from Greek myth, but a witless creature that speaks incoherently.

Why does Dante the Poet do this?

Plutus represents the love of money, and Dante the Poet is showing you that the love of money (or of material things, wealth) renders you imbecilic. All sin is irrational, and all sin leads to irrationality. Man is a rational animal, but sin makes man act contrary to his own nature. In sin, man becomes idiotic.

Here, the glorious god of Hades is reduced to a witless, impotent being that is dismissed easily by Virgil—who represents the best of human reason. In other words, ordered reason sees this irrational love of money for what it is—degrading and embarrassing.

Again, Dante the Poet shows you the truth.

But, it is not simply the structure of hell or the guardian of hell that carries a lesson—the very punishment of the avaricious does as well.

And this punishment forms a subtle image, a quiet lesson about your soul and how avarice will fracture God’s call for your life within the cosmos.

Read more

Every Easter season, you see the same jokes.

People laugh and post memes about John recording he beat Peter to the tomb.

Yet, many people couple their jokes with a comment wondering why else would John even record this detail?

Well, what if it wasn’t about humor but about John’s respect for Peter’s biblical role?

In this piece, explore the New Testament’s subtle but consistent portrait of Peter as the leader among the Twelve.

Discover why John’s “humble-brag” might be the ultimate nod to apostolic primacy.

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John’s Story of Beating Peter to the Tomb

After the death and burial of Jesus, Mary Magdalene visits the tomb of Jesus Christ and finds it empty. She reports this to the disciples, and Peter and John run to the tomb. Here is how the Gospel of John records the scene:

Peter then came out with the other disciple, and they went toward the tomb. They both ran, but the other disciple outran Peter and reached the tomb first; and stooping to look in, he saw the linen cloths lying there, but he did not go in. Then Simon Peter came, following him, and went into the tomb; he saw the linen cloths lying, and the napkin, which had been on his head, not lying with the linen cloths but rolled up in a place by itself. Then the other disciple, who reached the tomb first, also went in, and he saw and believed; for as yet they did not know the scripture, that he must rise from the dead (John 20:3-9).

Why does St. John record, twice, that he reached the tomb before St. Peter? Every Easter season this verse tends to solicit a lot of commentary and much of it humorous.

Here are some examples:

And there are always a few good-natured, humorous memes on this verse as well.

While the comedy is enjoyable, what was John’s intent in putting this detail in Holy Scripture? Many Christians defer to a “humorous” read, because they cannot discern any other reason for which John would include this detail.

But is there something more at work here?

Ancient Christianity may have an answer.

The Bible’s Subtle Lesson on Peter

Many people focused on the wrong detail. They focus on the fact that John records that he beat Peter to the tomb, but the most important detail is the John deferred to Peter to go in first.

The arriving first is in service to this important fact.

Why?

Many Christians would claim that the Bible holds a subtle lesson on Peter—one that is only received in giving attention to small details scattered throughout the New Testament.

And the lesson is this—that Peter plays a leadership role amongst the Twelve.

Here are some examples for you to consider.

1. Peter and Special Acts in the New Testament

Peter often is singled out in the stories in the New Testament. Peter is the only one to walk on the water, and he is the one to bring up the famous question about how many times we must forgive.1 You even see people being healed by Peter’s shadow.2

Peter, James, and John are a special group of disciples that are allowed to witness the Transfiguration and accompany Christ to the Mount of Olives.3 Notice, however, in this special group, Peter is singled out as the leader, the spokesman for the group. At the Mount of Olives, Christ finds all three asleep, but it is Peter he addresses. During the Transfiguration, it is Peter who speaks for the disciples.

Peter seems to always be involved in the special events of Jesus’ ministry, and he appears to play a leadership role, speaking on behalf of the followers of Christ.

2. Christ Calls Simon Peter First:

In the Gospel of Luke, Christ calls his first disciples, and the first is Simon Peter.4 The call of Peter is the call to discipleship par excellence—and once again Peter serves as the spokesman for the group speaking with Christ.

But when Simon Peter saw it, he fell down at Jesus’ knees, saying, “Depart from me, for I am a sinful man, O Lord.” For he was astonished, and all that were with him, at the catch of fish which they had taken; and so also were James and John, sons of Zeb′edee, who were partners with Simon. And Jesus said to Simon, “Do not be afraid; henceforth you will be catching men.” And when they had brought their boats to land, they left everything and followed him.

It is also notable that the call of Peter is intimately tied to being a fisherman, which ties into another subtle biblical pattern—the lesson on water as chaos and why Jesus called fishermen to be his disciples.

3. The List of Disciples According to Scripture:

Here is another subtle but important detail: every time the disciples are listed, Peter is listed first and even sometimes called “the first.”5 Even further, when referring to the disciples, sometimes only St. Peter is mentioned by name, e.g., “And Simon and those who were with him,” and “Now Peter and those who were with him”.6

The naming of Peter first amongst the Twelve or the only one to be named when the Twelve is mentioned is a small detail that merits close attention.

4. Peter’s Special Vocation in the Gospel of John

After the Resurrection, Jesus appears to the eleven disciples and, like you’ve seen before, has a unique conversation with Peter. Jesus asks Peter three times if he loves Him, and Peter responds “yes” all three times—and many Christians see this passage as a parallel to Peter’s denial of Christ three times during His Passion.

However, the affirmations of love are met by three unique vocational statements. Christ tells Peter and Peter alone: feed my lambs, tend my sheep, and feed my sheep. Peter is given the vocational duty to care for the flock of Christ.7

5. Peter’s Special Vocation in the Gospel of Luke

Similarly to John’s Gospel, Christ tells Peter that Satan has demanded to sift him like wheat. It is notable that Satan has focused on Peter, and that Peter will undergo a test—further unique characteristics of Peter. Jesus then tells Peter: “but I have prayed for you that your faith may not fail; and when you have turned again, strengthen your brethren.”8 The “strengthen your brethren” vocational statement is another mandate given only to Peter—and this is seen, at least in part, but another important and unique attribute of Peter, he is the one to preach at Pentecost.

Peter turns from his denials, embraces the reality of the risen Lord, and proclaims the Gospel to the world.

6. Peter’s Special Vocation in the Gospel of Matthew

Matthew’s Gospel has the most famous and most unique vocation given to Peter.

Now when Jesus came into the district of Caesare′a Philippi, he asked his disciples, “Who do men say that the Son of man is?”

And they said, “Some say John the Baptist, others say Eli′jah, and others Jeremiah or one of the prophets.” He said to them, “But who do you say that I am?” Simon Peter replied, “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.”

And Jesus answered him, “Blessed are you, Simon Bar-Jona! For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my Father who is in heaven. And I tell you, you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the powers of death shall not prevail against it. I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven, and whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven.” Then he strictly charged the disciples to tell no one that he was the Christ.

This vocation of Peter merits close attention and a careful read, but there are a few substantive points that can help you understand the special role of Peter. First, see that Peter responds on behalf of the group, as normal, but also does so as inspired by God. Peter again plays the role of spokesman but it is clear he does so by God’s grace.

Second, one of the most significant events in the New Testament is Christ giving Simon the new name of “Peter” or Kephas (or Cephas) meaning rock.

In the Old Testament, God changing someone’s name denoted a special calling, a new vocation, e.g., Abram to Abraham, Sarai to Sarah, and Jacob to Israel. As such, many Christians see Simon’s name change as part of a larger biblical pattern where a name change equals a new vocation, a special role in salvation history.

And, like the other name changes in the Bible, the meaning of the new name is providential and evidences the new vocation. As Abraham was the rock of Israel, the father of faith, so too is Peter the rock of the Church, the new Israel.

It is also important to note that Paul refered to Simon by his new name, Peter or “rock.”9 Moreover, Paul cites Peter as an sign of credibility and approval of his own apostolic ministry.10

Third, Peter is given the “keys of the kingdom of heaven,” and it is important to note that Jesus is perfecting a passage from Isaiah. In other words, this passage is a good example of a basic biblical principle: The Old Testament foreshadows the New, and the New perfects the Old. Notice the similarities with this passage from Isaiah:

And I will place on his shoulder the key of the house of David; he shall open, and none shall shut; and he shall shut, and none shall open. And I will fasten him like a peg in a sure place, and he will become a throne of honor to his father’s house. And they will hang on him the whole weight of his father’s house, the offspring and issue, every small vessel, from the cups to all the flagons.11

The passage has important parallels between the key(s), the opening/shutting with binding/loosing, and the foundations of tent peg and rock. To wit, as the Davidic king in the Old Testament has his steward that had authority when he left the kingdom, so too does Christ give Peter authority for when He leaves His kingdom.

To wit, this is not simply a unique vocation for Peter, but one that shows Peter as the leader of the Church, the steward caring for the King’s kingdom in the King’s absence.

It is an important insight into why Christ would also include Peter in unique events, and why the Gospel writers would always list Peter first.

Why John Records He Beat Peter to the Tomb

So, why does John record that he beat Peter to the tomb? Because it is part of him recording his deference to Peter, the leader of the Church. Peter is listed first amongst the Twelve, he speaks on behalf of the Twelve, and he is given several unique vocations to lead and guide the Christian Church.

John’s detail is not about comedy.

John’s detail is a subtle nod to Peter’s special, biblical role as the leader of the Church.

What do you think?

Dcn. Harrison Garlick is a deacon, husband, father, Chancellor, and attorney. He lives in rural Oklahoma with his wife and five children. He is also the host of Ascend: The Great Books Podcast. Follow him on X at Dcn. Garlick or Ascend

Eros is the primal desire to satiate in beauty and be happy.

Yet many Christians view eros through either a pornographic or puritan lens.

But the question of the human condition is the question of erotics—it is the primordial force of the familial, the political, and the divine.

It is the call to ascend—to move from lesser beauties to higher beauties until the soul satiates in that for which it was made, Beauty-itself.

Everyone from the Old Testament prophets to Hesiod, Plato, Jesus, St. Gregory of Nyssa, and Dante tells you to take the erotic seriously.

Eros is the question of your restless heart.

Eros shows you a path to excellence, happiness, and bliss.

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The Mystery of Eros

You have a primal desire to satiate in beauty and be happy—to feel fulfilled, whole, and at rest. You want to attain what is beautiful and delight in it—and this resounding, primordial yearning in the human heart is called eros.

C.S. Lewis calls eros a “Need-love” that finds satisfaction in the beloved.1 Joseph Pieper says eros is the “desire for full existence, for existential exaltation, for happiness and bliss.”2 You want someone to look upon you and say: “It is good that you exist; how wonderful you are!”3 Leo Strauss describes eros as a “love for the sempiternal possession of the good.”4 Allan Bloom says: “Eros… is the clearest and most powerful inclination toward lost wholeness:”5 Pope Benedict XVI defends eros as an “ecstasy” of the soul, an upward movement toward the divine.6

Many Christians, however, see eros as a disordered love that must be suppressed in the name of Christian charity.

But eros is your natural love given to you by God—a complement to the supernatural love of charity.

Many Christians limit eros to the erotic love between man and woman, which is perfected in marriage.

But eros is not reducible to sexuality—the erotic love for the beloved is simply the first step of the soul’s erotic ascendency to Beauty-itself, the divine.

The beauty of eros has been largely lost—but eros is central to the Christian narrative, because eros is the mystery at the heart of the human condition.

The restlessness of the heart of man is the question of erotics.

And the question of erotics is thus central to civilization—family, politics, and religion.

The Old Testament, Plato, Jesus, St. Gregory of Nyssa, St. Bernard of Clairvaux, and Dante all ask you to take the erotic seriously—for your good and for the good of others.

How can you rediscover this ancient beauty?

Recovering the lost grammar of eros is not easy—there are many presuppositions that need to be unworked and set aside.

Here is your path to ponder eros as a spiritual good.

I. Erotics in Homer & Pre-Plato
II. Plato & the Problem of Eros
III. Plato & the Ladder of Love
IV. What Plato Believes about Eros
V. Eros in the Old Testament
VI. Old Testament Erotics & Plato
VII. Eros in the New Testament
VIII. The Agape of St. Paul and the Eros of Plato
IX. Eros as the Ascent to God
X. Ascent: Eros & Christian Grace
XI. Agape as the Descent from God
XII. Eros & the Greatest Commandments
XIII. Ascend—Eros as Your New Beginning

To understand the human condition, you must understand eros. It is older than mankind and born afresh in every human soul. Those who master their erotics are those of self-discipline, virtue, and a relationship with God, Beauty-itself.

Though this is but a glimpse—a beautiful new way to look at the world awaits below.

I. Erotics in Homer & Pre-Plato

In Homer’s Iliad, an antecedent to Eros is seen in Hera praising erotic Love (philótēs) who may “overwhelm all gods and mortal men.”7 Hera wears Aphrodite’s band—which “the world lies in its weaving”—and uses it to seduce Zeus, and Homer tells us the king of gods and men is “conquered by… the strong assaults of Love.”8 In short, erotic Love is presented as a personified cosmic force, like Sleep, Death, or Dream, that affects both mortals and immortals alike.

In Hesiod’s Theogony, Eros is presented as one of the four primordial gods, alongside Chaos, Earth (Gaia), and Abyss (Tartarus). Though Eros has no offspring of its own, Eros’ role in the primal cosmos is fecundity—to be the generative force within existence. Uranus and Gaia, for example, generate the Titans, and Cronos and Rhea generate the Olympian gods. In other words, without Eros the universe would be sterile and stagnant, because the fecundity of Eros grants life and movement to the cosmos. In fact, Aristotle will later praise Hesiod for his insight that Eros animates existence. In his Metaphysics, Aristotle takes up the question: how does the Unmoved Mover move all things if the Unmoved Mover does not move? Aristotle’s answer is eros—it is love that animates the cosmos.9 All things desire to return to the divine origin according to their telos (purpose, end).

In other words, the erotic desire between man and woman that breeds life is also at work in all creation. Eros, whether a god or a force, is one of attraction, satiation, fecundity, and existence. The many become one, and the one becomes many. Eros is always fecund.

Eros, however, also has a destructive quality.

In Antigone by Sophocles, the chorus sings of the madness that accompanies Eros.10 It is Eros, who is “never conquered in battle,” who neither men nor gods can escape (like Zeus in the Iliad). The chorus says of Eros: “whoever feels your grip is driven mad… you wrench the minds of the righteous into outrage, swerve them to their ruin.” For example in the play, eros transforms Hamon, the calm, rational prince into a patricidal maniac and suicide.

Eros overcomes reason. The desire for beauty, to love and be loved, brings bliss, ecstasy, and elation—what C.S. Lewis associated with our phrase “to fall in love”—but it can also bring a mania or madness that ends in ruin. It is notable, however, that as observed in Antigone, even in its unconquered madness, eros still bends toward justice and the will of fate.11

In a broad sketch, eros prior to Plato is seen as a primordial force of attraction and satiation, of madness and fruitfulness—one that moves the cosmos, the gods, and mankind.

It is this multifaceted and rich tradition that is inherited by Plato.

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In the Inferno, Dante the Poet places the sin of flattery in a worse section of hell than murder. How could this be?

Dante is a master of the soul, and what he offers you is a tremendous insight into the spiritual harm of lying and its corruptive effect upon the intellect of man.

He presents a brilliant catechesis on the soul, truth, and the reality of Jesus Christ.

You will never see lying the same way again.

Dcn. Harrison Garlick discusses The Spiritual Harm of Lying, the most popular article on The Ascent at present, on our sister company, Ascend: The Great Books Podcast, and does a deep dive into this fascinating topic.

Reminder: this publication is 100% reader-supported. We are only able to continue writing it thanks to the members who support our mission.

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Show notes:

Today on Ascend: The Great Books Podcast, Deacon Harrison Garlick explores one of the most striking features of Dante’s Inferno: why the poet places liars, flatterers, and the treacherous in the lowest circles of Hell — deeper than murderers, tyrants, suicides, and even blasphemers.

Check out our new INSTAGRAM page!

We are reading the Odyssey over 12 weeks!

Why does Dante rank fraud and treachery as worse sins than violence? What is the spiritual harm of lying? And how is lying profoundly anti-Christ?

Deacon Garlick takes listeners on a deep but accessible journey through:

• The architecture and purpose of Dante’s Inferno

• The nature of truth and the teleology (purpose) of speech

• Why sins against the soul are worse than sins against the body

• The corruption of the intellect as the worst perversion of human nature

• The profound theology of Christ as the Logos — the divine ordering principle of all reality

This episode will challenge you to take lying far more seriously and to see how every lie moves both ourselves and others farther away from Jesus Christ, who declares “I am the Truth.”

Chapters

00:00 Introduction to Ascend The Great Books Podcast

04:13 Exploring Dante’s Inferno: The Spiritual Harm of Lying

06:07 Understanding the Architecture of Hell

15:05 The Nature of Truth and Speech

20:26 The Consequences of Lying vs. Murder

24:24 The Nature of Lying and Its Consequences

30:52 Understanding Logos and Its Significance

Key Topics Discussed

• Dante’s moral purpose in writing the Divine Comedy

• The structure of Hell: sins of incontinence vs. sins of malice

• Upper Hell vs. Lower Hell and the City of Dis

• Why flattery appears lower in Hell than murder

• St. Thomas Aquinas on truth: “the conformity of the mind to reality”

• The purpose (telos) of speech: to convey truth and help others conform their minds to reality

• Why lying is a perversion of speech and an attack on the intellect

• The inverted hierarchy of the soul in Hell

• Christ as the Logos (John 1) — the rational structure and ordering principle of all creation

• How lying is an anti-Christ act that divorces the mind from reality and from Jesus Himself

• The spiritual danger of breeding greater errors through falsehood

Notable Quotes / Insights

• “Sins against the soul are always going to be more severe than sins against the body.”

• “The corruption of the best is the worst.”

• “Christ does not say ‘I have come to share a truth with you.’ He says, ‘I am the Truth.’”

• “Every lie moves people farther away from Jesus Christ because you are divorcing the mind from reality.”

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Dcn. Harrison Garlick is a deacon, husband, father, Chancellor, and attorney. He lives in rural Oklahoma with his wife and five children. He is also the host of Ascend: The Great Books Podcast. Follow him on X at Dcn. Garlick or Ascend.

Dcn. Harrison Garlick takes one of the most popular articles here at The Ascent, The Hidden Meaning of Narnia’s Endless Winter, and discusses its themes in great detail—but in a way that is approachable for those new to these ideas!

What is evil?

What is the origin of evil?

What if something was pure evil?

C.S Lewis and Dante show you the answer in a simple but profound way.

Reminder: this publication is 100% reader-supported. We are only able to continue writing it thanks to the members who support our mission.

If you find these articles valuable, then please do consider subscribing for a few dollars per month — it helps us out enormously. You’ll get:

• New, full-length articles every Tuesday and Friday

• The entire archive of members-only articles and essays

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Show Notes:

In this thought-provoking episode of Ascend: The Great Books Podcast, Deacon Harrison Garlick explores one of the most popular topics on The Ascen—the hidden meaning behind one of C.S. Lewis’s most striking images in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe: the endless winter that grips Narnia.

Why is it “always winter but never Christmas”?

Far from a simple seasonal backdrop, Lewis uses the perpetual cold as a profound allegory for evil itself—an absence of warmth, life, and motion.

Drawing connections to Dante’s frozen pit at the bottom of Hell in the Inferno, Deacon unpacks the classic Christian understanding of evil as a privation of the good, not an equal opposite to God. He explains how true freedom is the ability to choose among goods (not between good and evil), why goodness and being are convertible, and how Aslan’s warm, life-giving breath beautifully images Christ restoring souls frozen by sin.

Whether you’re a longtime Narnia fan, studying Dante, or simply wrestling with the problem of evil, this episode offers fresh spiritual insight and shows why reading Narnia to children is such a powerful gift.

Watch now for a warm, insightful conversation that will deepen your appreciation for Lewis, Dante, and the way great stories reveal eternal truths about reality, Scripture, and the human soul.

Dcn. Harrison Garlick is a deacon, husband, father, Chancellor, and attorney. He lives in rural Oklahoma with his wife and five children. He is also the host of Ascend: The Great Books Podcast. Follow him on X at Dcn. Garlick or Ascend.

What if you could know what Jesus was thinking on the Cross?

Well, you can.

Around a thousand years before Jesus died on the Cross, Jesus’ own ancestor wrote a lament about being surrounded by his enemies.

Little did he know he was revealing the hidden mind of the suffering God.

And it radically changes the story of the Cross—as the cry of despair by Christ is revealed to ultimately be a shout of triumph amongst His enemies.

A shout of victory to which you are invited.

This is a teaser of our members-only deep dives.

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Why did Christ die for you?

At the heart of Christianity lies a staggering claim: God died for you.

Before you can understand how the Bible reveals the mind of Christ upon the Cross, you need to understand the purpose of the Cross.

Christians have many ways to articulate the mystery of the death of Jesus, but one helpful explanation is that the Cross is the answer to the problem of justice.

You see, when you commit an act of injustice, it is just to punish you proportionately for your offense. So, if you steal a truck, your punishment may be some time in prison and restitution toward the owner.

If you stole a truck and received the death penalty, that would be unjust.

Justice is about harmony and proportionality. And the punishment for an unjust act must always be proportionate to the good violated.

Well, here is the problem.

God is not simply one good amongst many. He’s not even the highest good of some hierarchy of goods. He is Goodness-itself, the source of all good things. He is infinitely good.

So, when mankind sinned against God, Adam and Eve committed an act of injustice against the infinite Goodness-itself.

Man, as a finite creature, cannot pay the punishment of offending infinite Goodness.

It is beyond his capacity, his very being.

And so, following St. Anselm’s famous dilemma of the Cross, the problem is that man is guilty but only God has the capacity—because man is finite but owes an infinite debt, while God is infinite but innocent.

How do you solve this problem?

You need a God-man.

You need someone who is both God and man, an incarnate God. God steps into humanity to reconcile the injustice of mankind. It weds the capacity to pay the debt with the guilt of the one who owes it.

It is here that the story moves from a problem of justice to a radical story of love—that God would become man and die for His Creation in order to reconcile them to Himself.

It is in this narrative of love and suffering that you may ask—what was God thinking upon the Cross?

You may know that Christ, the God-man, cried out: Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani (Matthew 27:46).

And you may know that this means: My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?

But did you know that this line is actually the title of a Psalm?

And that Christ is referencing this Psalm as a subtle hint to those who follow Him that what is on His heart upon the Cross is found in a thousand year old text.

It is an incredible invitation to a deeper understanding of Jesus.

Read more

You are a thought of God.

Before the creation of light and darkness, He knew you and He loved you.

And it is this same Divine Mind that became flesh and dwelt amongst His thoughts.

As He held the galaxies in place, He was nailed to a Cross.

The Divine Mind suffered to reconcile His thoughts to Himself.

The reality of who you are is almost too beautiful for comprehension.

Do not sell yourself short.

Reminder: this publication is 100% reader-supported. We are only able to continue writing it thanks to the members who support our mission.

If you find these articles valuable, then please do consider subscribing for a few dollars per month — it helps us out enormously. You’ll get:

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The Divine Mind and His Thoughts

You are a thought of God made flesh.

The thought of you has been with God and within His Divine Mind since before He laid the foundations of the earth.

Before He knit you together in your mother’s womb (Ps 139:13), He knew you (Jer 1:5).

You are a thought of God made flesh—and it is the Mind of God that gave you existence and continues to hold you in existence today.

When a carpenter makes a chair, the chair exists separately from the carpenter. But when God made you, you do not exist separately from Him—no more than a thought can exist outside of the mind.

He created you and continues to hold you in existence (Col 1:16-17).

You think of things because they exist, but things exist because God thinks of them.

For God not to think of you would mean the end of you—a thought no longer held in the Mind.

Who is the Divine Mind?

The question is not what but who.

The Divine Mind is a Person.

Scripture reveals the Son as the eternal Word (“Logos”) (John 1:1), the One through Whom all things were made and in Whom all things hold together (Col 1:16-17).

St. Augustine teaches this Logos is the Divine Mind.

It is this same Divine Mind—the Second Person of the Blessed Trinity, the Son—who became incarnate in Jesus Christ (John 1:14).

What does this mean?

It means the Mind came and dwelt among His own thoughts.

The same Jesus Christ who walked the earth is the same Divine Word through whom all things were created and by whom all things are sustained (John 1:1-3, 14; Col 1:16-17; Hebrews 1:3).

In fact, as Mary was giving birth to Jesus, Jesus was holding Mary—and all of creation—in existence.

A Reflection for Holy Week

And within the context of Holy Week, this gives us a brutal but beautiful truth about the Cross of Christ.

As the centurions mocked Jesus, He was holding them in existence.

As the Jews betrayed their own Messiah, Jesus was holding them in existence.

As they hammered the nails into His hands, Jesus was holding the nails, the hammer, the wood, and the Romans in existence (Colossians 1:17).

All He had to do to escape His torment was to think otherwise, and it all would have ended.

But He did not.

He did not because He loves you.

He did not because the Divine Mind desired to suffer to reconcile all things—including you, a thought of God—back to the Mind that gave them existence.

Through the blood of His cross, He invites you into beautiful harmony with your Divine origin (Col 1:19-20).

This week is Holy Week.

This week is a week of Love.

This week is an invitation to a reality that is honestly too beautiful for us to even comprehend.

Dcn. Harrison Garlick is a deacon, husband, father, Chancellor, and attorney. He lives in rural Oklahoma with his wife and five children. He is also the host of Ascend: The Great Books Podcast. Follow him on X at Dcn. Garlick or Ascend

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Genesis 1 has a subtle, hidden structure.

It is one that reveals itself upon a close, attentive read.

And one that sets aside modern cultural debates for the richness of praising God for His intentional act of creation, a good and ordered cosmos.

And guess what?

You are part of this creation, and you are part of what is good.

A deeper reading of Genesis 1 invites you to see yourself as part of beautiful story.

This is a teaser of our members-only deep dives.

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The Structure of Genesis 1

Christians understand that the first chapter of the book of Genesis, the first book of the Bible, merits a close, attentive read. Recall that the Bible is read in four senses—literal, allegorical, moral, and anagogical—and these senses layer upon each other to provide you phenomenal depths to even simple passages; yet, the literal sense (e.g., the author’s intent, the genre, the historical setting, etc.) is the foundation upon which the other senses are built. If the literal is slanted, the entire edifice of biblical interpretation stands askew.

As such, if you want to know a biblical passage, you must understand the literal first—and this includes the basic grammatical and rhetorical structure of the text.

Why?

Because it can reveal to you the author’s intent.

What does this have to do with Genesis 1?

Genesis 1 is one of the most structured passages in the entire Bible—but many miss it. You must slow down and appreciate the formulaic aspect, the repetitions, the structure, and even the seeming contradictions.

They are all invitations to a deeper read—with deeper spiritual rewards.

Revisiting the Creation Story

The first chapter of Genesis has a preamble and then six days of creation with the seventh day being at the beginning of Genesis chapter two.

Here is an outline and the full biblical passage:

1. Preamble (Gen 1:1-2)

In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. The earth was without form and void, and darkness was upon the face of the deep; and the Spirit of God was moving over the face of the waters.

2. Day One: Light (Gen 1:3-5)

And God said, “Let there be light”; and there was light. And God saw that the light was good; and God separated the light from the darkness. God called the light Day, and the darkness he called Night. And there was evening and there was morning, one day.

3. Day Two: Air & Water (Gen 1:6-8)

And God said, “Let there be a firmament in the midst of the waters, and let it separate the waters from the waters.” And God made the firmament and separated the waters which were under the firmament from the waters which were above the firmament. And it was so. And God called the firmament Heaven. And there was evening and there was morning, a second day.

4. Day Three: Earth & Sea (Gen 1:9-13)

And God said, “Let the waters under the heavens be gathered together into one place, and let the dry land appear.” And it was so. God called the dry land Earth, and the waters that were gathered together he called Seas. And God saw that it was good. And God said, “Let the earth put forth vegetation, plants yielding seed, and fruit trees bearing fruit in which is their seed, each according to its kind, upon the earth.” And it was so. The earth brought forth vegetation, plants yielding seed according to their own kinds, and trees bearing fruit in which is their seed, each according to its kind. And God saw that it was good. And there was evening and there was morning, a third day.

5. Day Four: Sun, Moon, & Stars (Gen 1:14-19)

And God said, “Let there be lights in the firmament of the heavens to separate the day from the night; and let them be for signs and for seasons and for days and years, and let them be lights in the firmament of the heavens to give light upon the earth.” And it was so. And God made the two great lights, the greater light to rule the day, and the lesser light to rule the night; he made the stars also. And God set them in the firmament of the heavens to give light upon the earth, to rule over the day and over the night, and to separate the light from the darkness. And God saw that it was good. And there was evening and there was morning, a fourth day.

6. Day Five: Birds & Sea Creatures (Gen 1:20-23)

And God said, “Let the waters bring forth swarms of living creatures, and let birds fly above the earth across the firmament of the heavens.” So God created the great sea monsters and every living creature that moves, with which the waters swarm, according to their kinds, and every winged bird according to its kind. And God saw that it was good. And God blessed them, saying, “Be fruitful and multiply and fill the waters in the seas, and let birds multiply on the earth.” And there was evening and there was morning, a fifth day.

7. Day Six: Land Animals & Man (Gen 1:24-31)

And God said, “Let the earth bring forth living creatures according to their kinds: cattle and creeping things and beasts of the earth according to their kinds.” And it was so. And God made the beasts of the earth according to their kinds and the cattle according to their kinds, and everything that creeps upon the ground according to its kind. And God saw that it was good.

Then God said, “Let us make man in our image, after our likeness; and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the birds of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the earth, and over every creeping thing that creeps upon the earth.” So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them. And God blessed them, and God said to them, “Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth and subdue it; and have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the air and over every living thing that moves upon the earth.”

And God said, “Behold, I have given you every plant yielding seed which is upon the face of all the earth, and every tree with seed in its fruit; you shall have them for food. And to every beast of the earth, and to every bird of the air, and to everything that creeps on the earth, everything that has the breath of life, I have given every green plant for food.” And it was so. And God saw everything that he had made, and behold, it was very good. And there was evening and there was morning, a sixth day.

8. Day Seven: Rest (Gen 2:1-4a)

Thus the heavens and the earth were finished, and all the host of them. And on the seventh day God finished his work which he had done, and he rested on the seventh day from all his work which he had done. So God blessed the seventh day and hallowed it, because on it God rested from all his work which he had done in creation.

These are the generations of the heavens and the earth when they were created.

This outline provides a lattice work upon which your attentive read can grow and develop. Always read slowly (and even aloud!) and pause to note details.

Always ask why.

Pushing Back on Genesis 1

Christians understand that to be a good reader of Scripture you must question the text. You push into the biblical narratives to ensure you are mining the depths offered to you and not simply receiving shallow, cultural reflections.

Remember—many people think they know the Bible stories but few read their Bible.

The nuance and details in the Holy Scriptures are lost amongst the broad cultural retellings, especially since most people learn the biblical narratives as children—and thus absorb a child’s understanding.

In fact, many people have a third to fourth grade education in the Bible.

But the Bible offers so much more.

So, what are some questions you could ask about Genesis 1?

First, you could note that the waters are not created as part of the seven days, but rather the creation narrative begins with the Spirit of God fluttering upon the watery depths. Why?

Second, it is common to question why light (day one) is created far before the sun, moon, and stars (day four).

Third, similarly, plants (day three) are created prior to their nourishment, the sun (day four) though light exists already.

These questions are not to prove the Bible wrong, but rather the assumption is that the biblical author, Moses, who is inspired by God, has an intention in writing Genesis 1 in this order—but these intentions will never be discovered if you shy away from asking questions about the biblical text.

Seeming contradictions, that can seem impious to some to observe, can actually be signposts to deeper, more fruitful read of God’s word.

Another very important question you should ask yourself is why the text is so structured. It is a very formulaic, poetic passage—that should solicit questions in your mind. Only a few passages in Holy Scripture are written in this manner. Why?

Another very important question is why Genesis then immediately has another creation story. Genesis 2-5 provides another creation account that is far less formulaic and tells the narrative of the creation of Adam and Eve and the fall of mankind.

The fact Moses gives you two immediate creation narratives is a good question.

In fact, it is not even clear that the literal order of creation in Genesis 1 and the second creation narrative in Genesis 2-5 are the same. In the second narrative, it seems that God creates Adam prior to creating plants.

In the day that the Lord God made the earth and the heavens, when no plant of the field was yet in the earth and no herb of the field had yet sprung up—for the Lord God had not caused it to rain upon the earth, and there was no man to till the ground; but a mist went up from the earth and watered the whole face of the ground—then the Lord God formed man of dust from the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living being (Gen 2:4-7).

A flat, vapid read would jump immediately to the Bible having contradictions and thus it is not the infallible, inspired word of God—but Christians know better. The default assumption cannot be that the biblical authors are dumb and unaware of the difficulties of the texts they are writing and then placing within the collection of sacred texts.

Again, Christians assume an intentionality on the part of the human author, inspired by God, and that means receiving Scripture as a student receives from a teacher—the same method if you were reading Homer or any other great text.

Humility is key to being a good reader of the Bible—or any great text.

So, here, an apparent contradiction should rather make you ask why the biblical author elected to place two narratives on creation side-by-side.

As with all things, you judge whether a thing is good or bad according to its purpose (telos). A good knife is sharp, because you understand its purpose is to cut.

What is the purpose of Genesis 1?

Is that purpose distinct from Genesis 2-5?

A better understanding of the literal, the author’s intent, as implied by the subtleties of the verses, may help you distinguish the purpose and meaning of Genesis 1.

It is the structure of the first chapter of Genesis that is the key.

A hidden structure that communicates a beautiful truth about the glory of God.

A hidden structure that can show you that a close, attentive read of the Bible can change your life.

Read more

Does Christianity teach weakness?

Jesus says if someone hits you to turn the other cheek.

Is this not timid, passive, and weak? Well, think of it this way:

If someone hits you, and you are too afraid to defend yourself, have you followed Jesus’ command?

No.

Cowardice cannot be permitted to masquerade as piety.

Here is the subtle teaching of Jesus:

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What the Bible says

Jesus told his followers to turn the other cheek:

“But I say to you, Do not resist one who is evil. But if any one strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also” (Matt 5:39).

The famous passage is drawn from the Sermon on the Mount (Matt 5-7), the longest single teaching from Jesus Christ in the New Testament. Allegorically, as Moses ascended Mount Sinai to receive the 10 Commandments, so to does Jesus ascend the mountain to give you the New Law. Christ is the new Moses, but also the lawgiver—as Jesus is God. As such, the Sermon on the Mount is best read as a perfection of the Old Law—a movement from the exterior (do not murder) to the interior (do by unjustly angry).

To wit, the New Law focuses on aligning your exterior actions with your heart.

Returning to the verse specifically about turning the other cheek, Jesus offers this teaching again in the Gospel of Luke:

“To him who strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also; and from him who takes away your cloak do not withhold your coat as well” (Lk 6:29).

The verse is often used to show that Christians are weak, timid, and lack the capacity to do spirited (thumotic) things—that Christianity is passive, conflict avoidant, and a pacifist religion.

But is this true?

Let’s look a bit deeper.

The Subtle Teaching in Turning the Other Cheek

The true nature of Jesus’ command is best displayed through a hypothetical.

Jesus told you to turn the other cheek if struck. If you are struck, and you are too afraid to strike back or defend yourself, and thus you are struck again, have you followed Jesus’ command to turn the other cheek?

No.

Jesus’ command to turn the other cheek presupposes the natural virtue of courage.

The sacrifice of Jesus’ command comes in the fact that you do have the courage to defend yourself, to strike back, which is a just act under nature—however, the sacrifice is found in not acting upon what you have a natural right to do for the sake of a higher supernatural good.

But this means the act of turning the other cheek is an act of strength—those who have the capacity to control their spiritedness and withstand another blow for the sake of some higher good, like teaching the assailant a lesson.

In fact, this reveals a true understanding of meekness—strength under control.

Cowardice cannot be allowed to masquerade as piety.

But did Jesus ever model this?

Jesus Turning the Other Cheek

Jesus turned the other cheek during His Passion. When you suffer, it is often because you otherwise cannot cease the suffering—you must suffer the illness, the loss of a loved one, or an unjust attack. The suffering will happen, but you must choose to suffer well, to suffer with virtue.

Christ is a bit different.

Because Jesus is God, the Second Person of the Blessed Trinity, He could have stopped the suffering of his flogging and crucifixion. Yes, He could have called down legions of angels—but He would not need to do so.

You see, Jesus is the Incarnate Son of God, and the Son is the Logos, the Word (John 1:1), through Whom all things were created and all things are held in being (Col 1:15-17). As St. Augustine taught, the Logos is the Divine Mind that holds all things in existence.

Why is this important?

Because as Jesus is being beaten and mocked by the Roman Centurions, He is also holding them in existence. As He is being nailed to the Cross and suffering immense pain, He’s also holding the nail, the wood of the cross, the hammer, and the Romans in existence. For Him to simply think otherwise, would be for Him to cease the situation, the suffering.

In other words, you think of things, because they exist—but things exist because God thinks of them.

To our point, Christ is literally turning the other cheek on the Cross because He could stop the injustice. He could “strike back,” if you will, and stop the entire situation.

But He does not—because His “turning of the other cheek” will bring about a greater good.

Do Christians Teach this Well?

Do Christians teach this passage of Jesus well? For example, if you want your child to be able to turn the other cheek, first teach them to be courageous and stand up against injustice—teach them to be spirited, to be thumotic.

Then teach them how to bridle it for the sake of a higher spiritual good.

And, as an aside, Christians are never called to turn the other cheek of others—to watch others suffer injustice.

Do not teach Christians children to be weak.

Teach them to be strong and spirited—and to offer that natural good to God.

Dcn. Harrison Garlick is a deacon, husband, father, Chancellor, and attorney. He lives in rural Oklahoma with his wife and five children. He is also the host of Ascend: The Great Books Podcast. Follow him on X at Dcn. Garlick or Ascend.

Anger is not a sin.

In fact, not becoming angry when you should be is sinful.

In his Inferno, where Dante the Poet places wrath within hell challenges our modern sensibilities, especially those that lead us to be lukewarm and timid.

Christ became angry—but He did not sin.

Dante gives you a poetic image of Christ’s teachings—an invitation to see anger as a good that must be bridled.

Dante is a master of the soul and, as always, there are a few surprises.

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The Fourth Circle of Hell

Dante’s Divine Comedy tells the story of Dante the Pilgrim’s penitential journey through hell, purgatory, and heaven. It is a masterwork of Christian theology. It is not a literal tale, like a prophetic vision of the actual structure of hell, but rather a moral tale—a lesson on the soul, virtue, and vice.

Dante writes to teach you how to be Christ-like.

In the Inferno, Dante the Pilgrim and Virgil leave the miserly and prodigal souls of the fourth circle and come upon “a swamp that has the name of Styx.” The river Styx, the sordid marsh-like second river of hell, serves as the fifth circle. Here, the Pilgrim sees “muddy people moving in that marsh, all naked, with their faces scarred by rage,” who “fought each other, not with hands alone, but struck with head and chest and feet as well, with teeth they tore each other limb from limb.” These are the wrathful souls, “the souls of those that anger overcame.”

Here is what is fascinating.

Dante the Poet places the wrathful in upper hell, which is characterized by sins of incontinence. In other words, it means that these souls failed to bridle their desires for some good, i.e., lust for the body, gluttony for food, and miserliness or prodigality toward money or earthly treasures. These are not sins of malice but of an inability to control desire. You may say these are either excess or deficient loves for something that is good.

So, how is wrath a sin of incontinence?

First, Dante the Poet treats anger as a good. Anger is not a sin. In fact, in certain circumstances, it would be a sin not to become angry—like when faced with the suffering of the innocence or other forms of injustice (see You Should Be Angry). In sum, wrath is an excess of a good, like gluttony is to food or lust is to the body. But like food or sex, anger is a good.

Remember that Jesus became angry. He cleaned out the temple with a whip, and He became “indignant” at his disciples. He also spoke of things that he “hated.”

Anger is a good. Wrath is an excess.

Second, it should be noted that the sins increase in severity the further Dante the Pilgrim travels down into hell. Moreover, while upper hell is characterized by incontinence, lower hell is characterized by malice—first by violence and then by fraud. So, it is not surprise that Dante the Poet places wrath at the bottom of upper hell, as the sin is both more severe than the other sins of incontinence and more like the sins of malice.

An important distinction that Dante the Poet makes is between wrath and violence. Though wrath can lead to violence, Dante the Poet separates them with the violent being punished in the seventh circle of hell, part of the sins of malice in lower hell.

What is important here is that the wrathful in the fifth circle are those who were wrathful in their hearts—those who may have never acted upon their wrath but allowed it to fester in their hearts, being always short, agitated, and unpleasant with others.

It is easy to say that you have not acted violently toward others.

But it is not easy to say you have bridled wrath in your heart.

As Jesus Christ said (Matt 5:21-22):

“You have heard that it was said to the men of old, ‘You shall not kill; and whoever kills shall be liable to judgment.’ But I say to you that every one who is angry with his brother shall be liable to judgment; whoever insults his brother shall be liable to the council, and whoever says, ‘You fool!’ shall be liable to the hell of fire.”

Dante the Poet gives you the teachings of Jesus Christ in a poetic image—and they are a challenging moral standard. Aligning your interior life with your exterior actions is an impressive feat of self-mastery—one that Christians state can only be done with the help of God’s grace.

In other words, God sets high moral standards but does not abandon you to them—He is there to help you meet them, to be Christ-like.

Like the raging souls in the river, wrath will blind you. It will cloud your intellect and make you act like an irrational beast. And though you may not act on that wrath, your soul will be like those in the river Styx—clawing, gnashing, thrashing in rage.

Yet, an attentive read will show that the river Styx has another type of soul within it.

One not raging… but who reveal another aspect of wrath.

And the identity of these souls is a bit of a mystery.

Read more

You can transform a child’s mind.

Great children’s literature invites the child’s mind to expand and mature into a healthy imagination—one ready to navigate the story of life.

As screens can destroy a child’s mind, so too can good books build it up.

It is an act of love to read to a child—and to habituate a child to the love of reading.

So, to help you, here are 60 classic adventure stories for children.

Reminder: this publication is 100% reader-supported. We are only able to continue writing it thanks to the members who support our mission.

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What should parents know?

Reading aloud to your children is one of the BEST things you can do for their imagination and their overall education. The vocabulary, syntax, narratives, etc. stretch their imaginations and introduce them to whole new worlds. You typically read to them 1-2 levels above wherever they are in their own reading. It would be difficult to overexaggerate the benefits of reading good literature to your children.

The older books are especially important. Yes, they are classics for a reason and tend to express well the perennial themes on what it means to be human—but also the older texts tend to have wider vocabularies and more complex syntaxes that stretch a young mind differently than modern texts. Many modern texts are a race to the bottom, simplifying grammar and plots for a generation addicted to screens and instant gratification. Putting the screens away and cultivating a family that reads together is a tremendous act of love.

Lastly, there is a spiritual undertone to habituating your child to good literature. Good stories till the mind for the Gospel. The Christian story is one that requires a healthy imagination—one that is accustomed to introspection and a narrative that has layers (literal, allegorical, moral, and anagogical). To wit, Christians understand that good literature prepares the intellect for the literature of life—the story of mankind and God. It opens young imaginations to moral dramas, consequences, sacrifice, redemption, and the higher beauties of life—and this is not just so-called “Christian children’s literature,” like The Chronicles of Narnia, but all good children’s literature that truly capture the human drama.

These books are good for all ages—but if you have children (or grandchildren) they are a treasure trove.

Adventure Books for Kids (Ages 8–12)

1. Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson (1883) — A young boy discovers a treasure map and joins a voyage filled with pirates, mutiny, and buried gold in this swashbuckling pirate classic.

2. 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea by Jules Verne (1870) — Professor Aronnax and companions embark on an underwater journey aboard the submarine Nautilus, encountering sea monsters and mysterious Captain Nemo.

3. The Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Grahame (1908) — Animal friends Mole, Rat, Toad, and Badger have whimsical riverside adventures involving daring escapes, wild escapades, and homecoming.

4. Journey to the Center of the Earth by Jules Verne (1864) — A professor, his nephew, and a guide descend into a volcano to explore hidden worlds, prehistoric creatures, and underground seas at Earth’s core.

5. The Story of King Arthur and His Knights by Howard Pyle (1903) — Young Arthur pulls the sword from the stone and leads knights on quests of chivalry, battles, and the search for the Holy Grail - and Pyle adds explicit moral lessons from the narratives.

6. Around the World in Eighty Days by Jules Verne (1873) — Phileas Fogg races against time and obstacles across continents by train, ship, and elephant to win a daring global wager.

7. The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien (1937) — Bilbo Baggins leaves his cozy home for a quest with dwarves and Gandalf to reclaim treasure from a dragon in a fantastical Middle-earth, the famous prelude to The Lord of the Rings.

8. Robinson Crusoe by Daniel Defoe (1719) — Shipwrecked on a deserted island, Crusoe survives years alone, building shelter, taming animals, and eventually finding companionship.

9. The Call of the Wild by Jack London (1903) — Domestic dog Buck is stolen and thrust into the harsh Yukon wilderness, where he learns survival instincts and joins a sled team—can often be the first introduction to a more brutal narrative.

10. The Hardy Boys Series (starting with The Tower Treasure) by Franklin W. Dixon (1927 onward) — Teen brothers Frank and Joe solve mysteries, chase criminals, and uncover secrets in thrilling detective adventures.

11. A Princess of Mars (first in the Martian Tales/Barsoom series) by Edgar Rice Burroughs (1917) — John Carter is transported to Mars, where he battles aliens, rescues a princess, and becomes a heroic warrior in a pulp sci-fi world.

12. Ivanhoe by Sir Walter Scott (1819) — Disinherited knight Wilfred of Ivanhoe fights in tournaments, rescues captives, and battles injustice in medieval England.

13. The Adventures of Tom Sawyer by Mark Twain (1876) — Mischievous Tom gets into scrapes, witnesses a crime, hunts for treasure, and has river adventures with friend Huck Finn.

14. White Fang by Jack London (1906) — A wild wolf-dog navigates the brutal Yukon frontier, facing hardship before finding loyalty and domestication, the follow up companion to The Call of the Wild (but not necessarily a sequel).

15. The Red Badge of Courage by Stephen Crane (1895) — Young soldier Henry Fleming faces fear, battles, and personal growth during the American Civil War.

16. The Chronicles of Narnia (starting with The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe) by C.S. Lewis (1950 onward) — Children discover a magical wardrobe leading to Narnia, where they battle evil, ally with talking animals, and fulfill prophecies—one of the best narratives to introduce a child’s imagination to allegory.

17. The Lord of the Rings (starting with The Fellowship of the Ring) by J.R.R. Tolkien (1954–1955) — Hobbits, elves, dwarves, and men join forces to destroy a powerful ring and defeat dark forces in an epic fantasy quest.

18. Hatchet by Gary Paulsen (1987) — Stranded alone in the Canadian wilderness after a plane crash, boy Brian uses a hatchet to survive, build shelter, and find inner strength.

19. The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood by Howard Pyle (1883) — Outlaw Robin Hood and his band rob the rich, aid the poor, and engage in archery contests and forest skirmishes in Sherwood—a charming story with lots of fraternity.

20. Mr. Midshipman Hornblower (first in the Horatio Hornblower series) by C.S. Forester (1950; series originated 1937) — Young naval officer Horatio rises through ranks with daring sea battles, cunning strategy, and leadership during the Napoleonic Wars.

21. My Side of the Mountain by Jean Craighead George (1959) — Teen Sam runs away to live off the land in the Catskill Mountains, taming a falcon and learning wilderness survival skills—and check out the sequel, On the Far Side of the Mountain.

22. The Railway Children by E. Nesbit (1906) — It’s a beloved Edwardian-era story full of wholesome adventure, family bonds, train-related mysteries, heroism in helping others, and gentle excitement.

23. King Arthur and His Knights of the Round Table by Roger Lancelyn Green (1953) — Retells the legends of Arthur’s court, Excalibur, Merlin, and knights’ quests for honor and the Grail.

24. Captains Courageous by Rudyard Kipling (1897) — Spoiled rich boy Harvey is rescued by fishermen and learns hard work, humility, and seamanship aboard a Grand Banks schooner.

25. The Black Stallion by Walter Farley (1941) — Shipwrecked boy Alec bonds with a wild black horse on a deserted island, then trains him to become a champion racer.

26. King Solomon’s Mines by H. Rider Haggard (1885) — Adventurers seek legendary diamond mines in Africa, facing dangers, lost tribes, and ancient treasures.

27. Tarzan of the Apes (first in the Tarzan series) by Edgar Rice Burroughs (1912) — Orphaned boy raised by apes becomes lord of the jungle, mastering survival and encountering civilization.

28. Redwall (first in the Redwall series) by Brian Jacques (1986) — Peaceful abbey animals defend against evil rat hordes in epic battles of bravery and friendship.

29. The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes by Arthur Conan Doyle (1892; collection) — Master detective Sherlock Holmes solves baffling mysteries with logic, observation, and daring pursuits.

30. A Wonder-Book for Girls and Boys (includes Greek myths) by Nathaniel Hawthorne (1851) — Retells thrilling Greek myths like Perseus, Hercules, and Pandora with heroic quests and mythical creatures.

31. The Jungle Book by Rudyard Kipling (1894) — Mowgli, raised by wolves, faces jungle dangers, learns survival from animals, and confronts the tiger Shere Khan.

32. The Swiss Family Robinson by Johann David Wyss (1812) — Shipwrecked family builds a treehouse life on a tropical island, taming animals and crafting inventions.

33. Aladdin and Other Tales from The Arabian Nights (traditional; various editions, e.g., Andrew Lang ~1898) — Clever Aladdin uses a magic lamp and ring for riches, adventures, and battles against evil sorcerers.

34. The Blue Fairy Book (or similar Fairy Tales collections) by Andrew Lang (1889) — Collection of enchanting fairy tales featuring quests, magic, princes, and heroic triumphs over villains.

35. The Log of a Cowboy by Andy Adams (1903) — Real-life cattle drive from Texas to Montana filled with trail hardships, stampedes, and cowboy camaraderie.

36. The Nancy Drew Series (starting with The Secret of the Old Clock) by Carolyn Keene (1930 onward) — Clever teen detective Nancy solves mysteries, uncovers clues, and foils criminals with bravery and wit.

37. Anne of Green Gables (first in the series) by L.M. Montgomery (1908) — Imaginative orphan Anne finds adventure, friendship, and mishaps while growing up on Prince Edward Island.

38. Where the Red Fern Grows by Wilson Rawls (1961) — Boy trains two coonhounds for hunting in the Ozarks, facing trials, loyalty, and heartbreaking lessons of love and loss.

39. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory by Roald Dahl (1964) — Poor boy Charlie wins a golden ticket to tour Willy Wonka’s magical factory full of wonders, inventions, and quirky challenges.

40. The Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster (1961) — Bored Milo drives through a tollbooth into fantastical lands of wordplay, numbers, and quests to rescue princesses Rhyme and Reason.

41. The Wonderful Wizard of Oz by L. Frank Baum (1900) — Dorothy is whisked to Oz by a tornado, joining friends on a yellow-brick road quest to meet the Wizard and find home.

42. Peter Pan by J.M. Barrie (1911) — Eternal boy Peter takes Wendy and siblings to Neverland for pirate battles, fairy adventures, and flying escapades.

43. The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett (1911) — Lonely Mary discovers a hidden garden and helps heal herself and others through exploration, friendship, and nature’s magic.

44. The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain (1884) — Huck and runaway Jim raft down the Mississippi, evading danger while facing moral dilemmas and freedom quests.

45. Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll (1865) — Curious Alice falls down a rabbit hole into a nonsensical world of mad tea parties, trials, and bizarre encounters.

46. The Princess and the Goblin by George MacDonald (1872) — Brave Princess Irene outwits underground goblins with courage, a magic thread, and help from a mysterious miner boy.

47. The Story of Doctor Dolittle by Hugh Lofting (1920) — Kind doctor learns animal languages and voyages to Africa for rescues, cures, and exotic animal adventures.

48. Swallows and Amazons by Arthur Ransome (1930) — Siblings sail, camp, and play at being explorers and pirates on English lakes in wholesome outdoor fun.

49. Kidnapped by Robert Louis Stevenson (1886) — Young David Balfour is kidnapped and shipwrecked, embarking on a perilous journey across Scotland with a Jacobite rebel for justice and inheritance.

50. Dinotopia (first in the series) by James Gurney (1992) — Shipwrecked explorers discover a hidden island where humans and dinosaurs coexist in harmony, filled with illustrated quests and utopian adventures.

Books for Ages 12 and Up

These texts tend to contain more mature themes, complex plots, or general intensity.

51. The Once and Future King by T.H. White (1958; compiled edition) — Witty retelling of Arthur’s life from boyhood to kingship, blending magic, war, and philosophical quests.

52. The Space Trilogy (starting with Out of the Silent Planet) by C.S. Lewis (1938–1945) — Philosopher travels to Mars and beyond, facing cosmic evils and moral battles in thoughtful sci-fi.

53. A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court by Mark Twain (1889) — Modern man time-travels to Camelot, using technology to challenge medieval ways in satirical adventures.

54. The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas (1844–1846 serialized; 1846 book) — Wrongly imprisoned man escapes, amasses fortune, and exacts elaborate revenge with cunning and daring.

55. Moby-Dick by Herman Melville (1851) — Obsessed Captain Ahab leads a whaling ship on a relentless hunt for the white whale across vast oceans—arguably the American classic and filled with layers and meaning.

56. Starship Troopers by Robert A. Heinlein (1959) — Soldier Johnny Rico fights alien bugs in intense interstellar war, exploring duty, citizenship, and combat. As an aside, Heinlein has many sci-fi novels but many are not suitable for minors.

57. The Martian Tales (full Barsoom series, continuing from A Princess of Mars) by Edgar Rice Burroughs (1917 onward) — Earthman John Carter battles on Mars with swordplay, rescues, and heroic planetary exploits.

58. The Three Musketeers by Alexandre Dumas (1844) — D’Artagnan joins Athos, Porthos, and Aramis in swordfights, court intrigue, and loyal quests in 17th-century France.

59. Conan the Barbarian Stories by Robert E. Howard (1932 onward) — Barbarian warrior Conan roams ancient lands, battling sorcerers, monsters, and kings in gritty sword-and-sorcery tales. Howard brought more philosophy to these tales than is generally realized and wrote many other adventure stories with other heroes, like Solomon Kane and Kull.

60. Louis L’Amour Westerns (starting with Hondo) by Louis L’Amour (1953 onward) — Rugged frontiersmen face gunfights, outlaws, and harsh landscapes in classic tales of the American West’s survival and honor.

What is missing?

What adventure story is missing? What would you recommend? These stories are fun for all ages, but if you have children, spend time reading these stories aloud with them! It is one of the best things you can do for them.

Dcn. Harrison Garlick is a deacon, husband, father, Chancellor, and attorney. He lives in rural Oklahoma with his wife and five children. He is also the host of Ascend: The Great Books Podcast. Follow him on X at Dcn. Garlick or Ascend.

Who was Homer?

Some claim he was just a flat echo of his time; yet, others claim he was an intentional teacher of the perennial truths of mankind.

Some claim Plato disregarded Homer; yet, others claim it was Homer, the philosopher, who taught Plato the art of dialectic.

Some claim Homer was just a bard; yet, others claim he was inspired by the divine, a theologian who offers insights into the cosmos through mystical allegories.

Some claim he has nothing to do with Christianity; yet, others claim God used him as the fountainhead of a Hellenized culture that would prepare the world for Christ.

Who was Homer?

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Who was Homer?

The city of Troy is said to have fallen in 1184 B.C. Troy was a well-fortified city-state or polis situated on the west coast of ancient Asia Minor—now predominantly modern-day Turkey—across the Aegean Sea from Greece. It was a city of tremendous wealth and culture.

The fall of Troy was already part of the ancient history of Greece during the classical era (400-300s BC)—think Socrates and Plato. Homer writes of the fall of Troy, in part, in the Iliad, but modern scholarship tends to date Homer in the late 700s B.C. There is a notable gap between the event and the writings of Homer.

Very little is known about Homer the person, except that he was Greek, most likely born in Asia Minor, and was a bard of great mastery, i.e., an oral poet who would compose and perform verses, especially on the histories and great deeds of his people. Various traditions also present him as a slave and/or as blind.

But what of his masterworks?

Well, neither the Iliad nor the Odyssey originated as a written epic.

Both stories originally consisted of oral poems or rhapsodies memorized and performed by Greek bards in the centuries between the fall of Troy and Homer. Consequently, you should see Homer as the inheritor of an already old tradition of oral stories about the Trojan War, which includes the story of Odysseus’ homecoming.

The brilliance of Homer was his capacity to compose a written epic out of a myriad of oral traditions spanning several centuries. He most likely wrote the Iliad (or dictated it to a scribe) around 750 B.C. with the Odyssey at 725 B.C., according to Robert Fagles.

Sure, everyone knows the Iliad and the Odyssey.

But like the Bible, many know of the stories but few have read them.

So, why is Homer worth the time and effort?

Why Should You Read Homer?

Homer is an author of your culture. Western culture is shaped by Homer. You are his inheritor. Ancient Greek culture is inseparable from the identity of the West—a unique blend of Hebrew faith, Greek reason, and Roman order made one in Christianity. As one starts with Genesis to understand the Hebrews, one starts with Homer to understand the Greeks.

The Iliad is arguably the first “great book” in the Western canon—save Holy Scripture. The Odyssey is an indispensable continuation of the story. In Homer, the perennial truths about mankind are discussed but in a nascent way—justice, the soul, freewill, the divine, providence, glory, virtue, and many more fundamental human questions are imaged in the Homeric writings. And these questions mature under the tutelage of the later Greek tragedians, like Aeschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides, and then under the Greek philosophers, like Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle.

All these Greek thinkers are in conversation with Homer.

And later Hebrew and Roman thinkers are in conversation with the Greeks.

Homer is the inheritance of the West. He is the origin.

In Homer you discover more about yourself—what it means to be human.

Yet, this is still a shallow, introductory answer.

Many still see Homer as a flat echo of his culture—he recorded what he received. He was not an intentional teacher.

Yet, as Socrates tells us, there is a hidden meaning in Homer.

Homer is not an echo. He is the choirmaster. He is a teacher, a philosopher, and a theologian. Hidden amongst his simple stories are profound lessons on what it means to be human—lessons many argue he intentionally wrote for you to discover.

But why should a Christian care?

Well, it has to do with the claim that God used Homer to prepare the world for Christ.

Read more

What is the common good?

Many think of goods we all need—like food, water, and shelter.

But humans are not cattle—we need more.

Others think of goods we all desire—wealth, power, status, and sex.

But these cannot be shared in common and breed envy, avarice, gluttony, and lust.

Are there common goods that can be shared by all but do not diminish?

Yes. In fact, there are goods that grow when shared.

And Dante, pulling from St. Augustine and St. Thomas Aquinas, has the answer.

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Humans are not cattle

Dante is a master of the soul—but he is also a master of understanding how souls live together, a master of politics. Part of that mastery is a true vision of the common good.

What is the common good?

Well, most people immediately think of goods that benefit the most people or goods that are the most necessary. For example, the common good is often expressed as food, water, and shelter. Yet, man is not a cow. The basic needs of life are necessary but not sufficient for a happy life.

Is the common good then found in “greater goods” like wealth, status, power, and sex? One problem, amongst many, is that these goods are not truly “common,” just like food, water, and shelter. Common does not mean “wanted by all” but rather “shared by all.” Yet, these goods are competitive—or rather, to the degree one person has food, wealth, or power, another does not.

Think of a pie. To the degree that one person takes one slice, that slice is not available for others.

Many think of the common good in this manner. They think of an exhaustible good that benefits many or particular goods that many desire.

Yet, the competition for these goods is an invitation to lust, gluttony, avarice, and envy. As Dr. Jessica Hooten Wilson of Pepperdine observes, envy comes from a “mindset of scarcity.” It is one of the subtle lessons of Dante the Poet’s treatment of the envious in the Purgatorio (Canto 15). If you view these particular, exhaustible goods as the highest goods in life, it breeds competition, fear, and a desire to gather and consume.

Yet, even if these exhaustible goods are met with virtue, that does not make them a true common good, a good that is shared by all.

But how can a good be shared in common and not exhausted?

The Inexhaustible Goods

The true “common goods” of society are those that are inexhaustible. In other words, people sharing in them do not diminish them—like a pie in which all persons, no matter how many, can take a slice.

But are there goods that are truly common in this manner?

These are goods like justice, truth, goodness, and beauty. These are the true common goods in society. For example, if one person receives justice, that does not mean another cannot. Justice is inexhaustible and thus a true common good—one that all persons within society can participate. Similarly, truth can be shared by all without being diminished.

Moreover—and this is key—the more persons within society participate in these true common goods, the more they are marked by them and shared amongst others. In other words, a soul that is participating in justice or love becomes just or loving—and thus becomes an icon of the true common good to others.

Virgil, in the Purgatorio (Canto 15), speaks of this phenomenon as infinite rays of light reflecting on the soul like a mirror toward one another. In sum, the more souls that participate in these common goods the more the good develops within society. Each soul that participates in the common good of love becomes loving and creates a loving society.

The true common goods are not simply inexhaustible—they bloom within the soul and make human society beautiful and fragrant.

But, amongst these true common goods, is there a highest common good, the common good?

Is there a good in which all these common goods participate?

The Supreme Common Good

According to St. Augustine, St. Thomas Aquinas, and Dante, God is the supreme common good of humanity, including society. All other common goods participate in Him. He is the source and summit.

Every person can have a relationship with God and that in no manner exhausts God or makes His love scarce.

In fact, the more souls participate in God, the more they become God-like, and with them, society is elevated and made godly.

When you love God, there is a divine refulgence that cascades back down amongst all the other goods in life, exhaustible and inexhaustible, perfecting your relationship to them.

The man who loves God loves his wife better and not less. The love of God, the supreme common good, perfects all other goods in life.

Be a Divine Mirror

Do not allow a “mindset of scarcity” to lead you into fear and a disordered desire to attain and consume goods. Reject envy, avarice, gluttony, and lust.

Instead, follow the example of Dante the Poet and focus on the inexhaustible goods, the true common goods of human flourishing.

Be a mirror for justice, love, truth, and beauty in society—participating in those common goods and reflecting them horizontally throughout society.

Most of all, love God—the supreme common good.

Become God-like and be His mirror within society—inviting others to the common good that perfects all others.

Dcn. Harrison Garlick is a deacon, husband, father, Chancellor, and attorney. He lives in rural Oklahoma with his wife and five children. He is also the host of Ascend: The Great Books Podcast. Follow him on X at Dcn. Garlick or Ascend.

Dante is a master of the soul.

The Inferno shows you the ugliness of sin.

But the Purgatorio shows you how to purge it from your life.

In the first terrace on Mount Purgatory, Dante gives your imagination what it needs to cleanse pride and embrace humility.

3 examples of humility carved into the wall of the mountain.

1 poetic punishment the penitent must suffer to be purged.

13 examples of pride carved into the floor of purgatory.

Dante gives you everything you need. You just have to be willing to do it.

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The Gate of Purgatory

Dante is a master of the soul—his Divine Comedy is not a work laying out the literal structure of the afterlife nor a vision of what it will be. The Divine Comedy is a moral tale, an invitation for the soul to understand the ugliness of sin, to purge itself of evil, and to ascend into celestial delights. Dante the Pilgrim is humanity—he is an analogue for you and your own spiritual journey.

In the Inferno, Dante the Poet rips off the veneer of human desire and shows you the ugliness of sin. The souls there are punished by being given into their disordered loves. The Purgatorio is different. The souls in purgatory are punished, but the punishment is to purge the sin—it is medicinal. Moreover, the atmosphere of purgatory is far from the grime of hell, it is a place of sunlight, joy, and hope. The souls want to be purged, as they are desirous to go to heaven and see God.

For those unfamiliar, Catholics hold that souls who die in friendship with God but remain imperfect are cleansed prior to enjoying heaven. Catholics would state that “no unclean thing can enter heaven” (Rev 21:27), and that you fall short of God’s command to be “perfect” as your heavenly Father is perfect (Matt 5:48). Though the souls are saved (as everyone in purgatory will go to heaven) they are imperfect or rather failed to fully conform their souls to Christ in this life. Catholics would point to the Jewish practices of praying for the dead (II Macc 12:39–46), St. Paul’s explanation that souls will be purged by fire after death (1 Cor 3:11–15), Jesus’ parable that there are punishments in the afterlife that are temporary (Matt 5:25–26), and Jesus’ comment that there are sins forgiven after death (Matt 12:32).

For purposes here, it is sufficient to understand that purgatory is a place where the soul cooperates with God’s grace to purge itself of its imperfections in a joyful hope of ascending into heaven proper, the Beatific Vision.

And Dante the Poet uses this reality to give you one of the best spiritual maps you could have in this life—how to flee vice and embrace virtue.

The Gate of Purgatory

After Dante the Pilgrim and his guide, the Roman poet Virgil, navigate “ante-purgatory,” the foot of the mountain, they come to the gate of purgatory. In brief, the gate has three steps symbolizing self-knowledge, contrition, and penance. It is only through humility that souls can start the journey of purgation, and humility comes from a true know thyself that leads to a sorrow for sin and the desire be Christ-like.

The angel who governs the gate then carves seven “Ps” into Dante the Pilgrim’s forehead, representing the seven deadly sins (peccata in Latin) he must purge in his ascent of Mount Purgatory. The angel tells Dante the Pilgrim that St. Peter told him to err on allowing souls in, to err on the side of mercy, and as the hinges of the gate creak open Dante the Pilgrim believes he hears in them the Te Deum Laudamus, a prayer of thanksgiving.

They enter into a narrow path that winds them to the first terrace, the purging of the Queen of Sin, pride.

Remember, Dante the Pilgrim’s journey is your journey.

And here, Dante the Poet shows you that the ascent to Christ starts with humility—even if in a modest, nascent form.

You must know thyself, to see yourself in the greatest mirror of the soul, God, and be spirited enough to desire to purge your vices and embrace your virtues.

And the first sin that must be purged is pride.

The Carvings in the Mountain

Dante the Pilgrim and Virgil see something amazing. Carved into the side of the mountain are beautiful reliefs depicting different scenes of humility—the contrary virtue to pride. He sees three stories:

The Annunciation - This is the story of the angel Gabriel coming to Mary and announcing to her that she would be the mother of Jesus, the Messiah (Luke 1:26-38). Mary gives her fiat, her “let it be,” saying: “Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord; let it be to me according to your word.” Mother Mary shows a humility in accepting God’s plan for her life. As St Irenaeus says, the knot of Eve’s disobedience was untied by the obedience of Mary.

However, there is subtle narrative of humility here as well—the humility of God. God becoming man is an act of humility—the Creator dwells amongst his Creation, the Divine Mind dwells amongst his thoughts. There is no greater act of humility than the Incarnation.

The Ark - The second relief is of King David dancing before the Ark (2 Samuel 6:14–22). The King lets go of his stately decorum falls into a joyous celebration of the Ark returning to Jerusalem—and is famously despised by his wife, Michal, who sees his actions as undignified.

But before Dante describes this relief, he references the obscure story of Uzzah (2 Sam 6:1–11).

David and Israel were dancing and celebrating before the Ark, which was being brought back in a wagon—and when the ox stumbled the Ark was in danger of toppling over. So, a man named Uzzah reached out his hand to stabilize the Ark.

And God struck him dead.

Why would God do this? The story of Uzzah is a story of pride. Though Uzzah was trying to do something good, he and the rest of the Israelites were in disobedience. God had told them how the Ark must be transported—via poles on the shoulders of Levites and no one was to touch the Ark directly.

The story of Uzzah “makes us fear to take on duties uncommissioned,” as Dante says.

There is also a subtle connection between these two reliefs, one Dante may be suggesting—Mary is also the new Ark of the Covenant. What does this mean? It means that as the Ark of the Covenant in the Old Testament was the dwelling place of God’s presence on earth, so too did Mary become the dwelling place of God on earth at the Incarnation. Inside the Ark there was manna, the ten commandments, and Aaron’s priestly staff, and Christ, made Incarnate in Mary, perfects all three: he’s the bread from heaven, the new lawgiver, and the new high priest.

A basic rule of interpreting Scriptures is that the Old Testament foreshadows the New, and the New perfects the Old. Here Dante gives us the image of the Ark in both the Old and New Testament.

Emperor Trajan - For the pagan example, Dante the Poet gives us the example of Emperor Trajan stopping his imperial procession to assist an elderly woman with justice. In fact, legend has it that St. Gregory the Great found Emperor Trajan to be such an epitome of natural virtue, that the saint prayed for God to find a way for the Emperor, now deceased, to go to heaven. God then raised Emperor Trajan from the dead, St. Gregory baptized him, and the Emperor died in friendship with God.

It is important to note that Dante the Poet provides both sacred and pagan examples of virtue—not because grace is unnecessary, but to show that virtue exists in both a natural and supernatural state, the latter being, of course, more perfect.

The natural virtues—prudence, justice, temperance, and fortitude—are those that are available to all persons due to their humanity—they have an intellect.

The theological virtues—faith, hope, and charity—are those available only to persons who are in friendship with God, who participate in the divine life. They are gifts to be received and participated in.

The carvings give your imagination images of humility—the contrary virtue to pride.

But Dante the Poet offers you much more.

He gives you the punishment the prideful embrace to be purged.

He gives you thirteen examples of pride carved into the floor of purgatory.

In short, he gives you an incredible liturgy of images to help your soul purge pride and embrace humility.

Let’s look.

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Peace is more than you’re told.

The ancient definition of peace was gutted and filled with a modern, vapid meaning that lowers your standards.

Peace is not the absence of conflict.

The true definition of peace reveals a harmony, an ordered cosmos.

True peace sees Jesus’ “peacemakers” not as timid, conflict-avoidant persons, but as those spirited enough to make order out of disorder, harmony out of disharmony—to be co-creators with God, His true sons.

Rework your imagination with the proper grammar of peace.

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Peace is More than You’re Told

What is the true spirituality of peace? As a modern, you use many of the same words as the ancients, like liberty, peace, and love, but with very different meanings. Few are aware that modernity gutted many of the ancient terms of the West and filled them with new meanings—often flat, vapid definitions.

And the concept of “peace” is no different.

Today, when we speak of peace, the implied definition is often the absence of conflict. It is largely a negative definition, denoting that something is missing—war. And this negative definition of peace, one that is predicated on conflict, is applicable not only to countries but also to neighbors and even the soul. We think our cities are at peace if the conflict is managed to an acceptable degree. We think we are at peace with our neighbors as long as we do not fight. It is a negative definition, one based on whether conflict is absent.

But Christians promote a positive vision of peace.

One that does not take its definition from its negative, war, but promotes a higher standard of being.

So, what is the ancient, Christian definition?

St. Augustine on True Peace

St. Augustine teaches that peace is the “tranquility of order.” It is the famous tranquillitas ordinis from his City of God (Bk 19, Chp 13).

What does this mean?

It is a positive definition that is rooted in teleology. Recall that telos means “end” or “purpose.” So the telos of the eye is to see, like the telos of the intellect is to know. For Christians, everything in nature has a telos, because everything in Creation comes from the mind of the Creator.

The human soul, politics, friendships, marriages, nations, etc., all have a telos that is orchestrated by God, often through nature, as one, ordered cosmos.

So, what is peace?

Peace is when all the parts of the whole are in harmony or are well-ordered, the “tranquility of order.” It is a positive vision of peace that calls humanity not simply to avoid conflict but to move together in harmony.

Think of it this way.

Imagine a room of people fighting and arguing with one another—this is conflict. The absence of conflict is that this fighting simply stops, but the people remain atomized and without order. Peace is like if the people gathered together and sang as a choir—each person playing their part to create a beautiful harmony, one unachievable unless they work together.

This is the true Christian vision of peace.

And this vision of peace radically changes one of Jesus’ most famous sayings.

Blessed are the Peacemakers

It is important to bring this definition to Jesus’ famous beatitude:

“Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God” (Matt 5:9).

If you have a flat, modern understanding of peace, then the “peacemakers” can be read as those who avoid conflict, the passive or timid—those who simply do not rock the boat.

But the robust, Christian understanding of peace shows a very different vision.

The peacemaker is one who brings order to disorder, harmony to discord—to make peace, is a proactive and positive endeavor.

It is difficult work.

Like a choirmaster forming a choir, the peacemaker works in society to harmonize discordant parts according to their proper telos.

In other words, the peacemaker is an agent of the divine, moving a disharmonious creation back into the intent of God.

So, how can this help you ascend in your own spiritual journey?

First, adopt the thicker understanding of peace. Let a better grammar inform your logic and your rhetoric. Do not sell yourself short.

Second, with this new understanding, be a peacemaker, an agent of the divine, bringing order to where there is disorder, beauty to where there is ugliness.

It is hard work—but it is a cooperation with the divine.

Be a true child of God.

Dcn. Harrison Garlick is a deacon, husband, father, Chancellor, and attorney. He lives in rural Oklahoma with his wife and five children. He is also the host of Ascend: The Great Books Podcast. Follow him on X at Dcn. Garlick or Ascend.

Heresy is intellectual enslavement.

But, in the Inferno, Dante the Poet deviates from Aquinas.

Dante’s lesson on heresy is surprising—going as far as asking whether a non-Christian can be a heretic against reason and nature.

Heresy harms the soul—but how Dante thinks it harms the soul is far from straightforward.

And… it is a lesson that modern man is slow to learn, as the sin of heresy tends to grate against our cherished belief in liberty as self-creation, freedom of thought.

But heresy only brings disorder and slavery.

Dante’s lesson on heresy is as brilliant as it is mysterious.

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The Mystery of the Sixth Circle

In the dark woods, before Dante the Pilgrim descended into hell, he was impeded by three animals: a she-wolf, a lion, and a leopard. And these three beasts are a foreshadowing of the three major sections of hell: the upper hell that punishes sins of incontinence (i.e., an inability to control desire, like lust or gluttony) is represented by the she-wolf; the first section of lower hell, circle seven, punishes the violent and is represented by the lion; and the bottom two circles of lower hell, eight and nine punishing fraud and treachery, represented by the leopard. Overall, upper hell is incontinence, while lower hell is malice, a malevolent will toward another in either violence or fraud.

Yet, where is heresy?

There are two circles in Dante’s Inferno that stand unique. The first is the first circle of hell, limbo, because it is a paradise without punishment—but also without the Beatific Vision (i.e., the intimacy with God in heaven). This is where righteous souls dwelt prior to Jesus’ death and resurrection (e.g., Adam, Moses, David, Ruth, etc.)—and then he “harrowed hell” by preaching the Gospel to these captive souls and leading them to heaven (1 Peter 3:18-20; 4:6). It is why Christians state that Christ “descended into hell” in the Apostles’ Creed. Dante the Poet, following the tradition, holds that limbo endured after Christ’s harrowing and remains a place God can place souls that are not saved but otherwise lived a naturally virtuous life.

The second, however, is the circle of heresy. Dante the Poet’s placement of heresy generates much debate. He places it in the City of Dis (Satan), a city that constitutes the sixth circle of hell separating upper hell (incontinence) from lower hell (malice in violence and fraud)—yet it seems to neither be a sin of incontinence nor malice.

How Dante the Poet views heresy is a bit of a mystery—but he gives us creatures, tortures, and famous characters as clues to discern his meaning.

Everything in the Inferno is a lesson for your soul—a lesson on the ugliness of sin.

So, what even is heresy?

And how are the heretics in the sixth circle punished?

Well the first problem is that Dante and Virgil cannot enter the City of Dis—the demons will not let them pass.

Outside the City of Dis and the Angel

Virgil and Dante the Pilgrim approach the terrifying ringed city, Dis. The Pilgrim observes: “the clear glow of its mosques above the valley, burning bright red, as though just forged, and left to smolder” (8.67-73). First, “Dis” was a name given to the Roman god of the underworld, Pluto (in Greek, Hades), but is here applied to Satan. Second, Dante the Poet associates mosques with a city of heretics, because medieval Christians saw Islam as a Christian heresy—not a separate religion. Notably, the glow of Dis illuminates all of lower hell.

Dis is an impenetrable city.

It is surrounded by moats and walls of iron—and upon the walls Dante the Pilgrim sees “a thousand fiendish angels perching above the gates enraged, screaming: ’Who is the one approaching? Who, without death, dares walk into the kingdom of the dead?” (8.82-5). The fallen angels bar the Pilgrim’s path, to which Virgil comments: “The insolence of theirs is nothing new; they used it once at a less secret gate, which is, and will forever be, unlocked” (8.124-26).

What is the less secret gate that Virgil says was already made unlocked?

Virgil is referring to when Christ harrowed hell after his death on Holy Saturday. Jesus both led the righteous souls of limbo out of their long captivity but also conquered hell. But Virgil and the Pilgrim are at a different gate, and it remains locked.

What is interesting here is that even though Virgil, a damned pagan, has a divine mandate to help Dante the Pilgrim, he cannot force the demons to open the gate. It is a subtle nod at the need for grace to conquer evil—natural goodness is not sufficient.

As Virgil and Dante are outside the gates being harassed by demons and mythological creatures, like the Furies, a “blast of sound, shot through with fear, exploded, making both shores of Hell begin to tremble,” as an angel sent from heaven “walking the Styx, his feet dry on the water” (9.64-6, 79-81). The angel does not fight the demons, no more than a lit candle must fight the darkness—there is no real resistance evil can give to the good. The demons flee like frogs jumping back into a pond, as Dante the Poet tells.

The angel opens the gate without issue and rebukes the evil creatures of Dis.

Virgil and the Pilgrim enter into Dis without an issue.

But what they find in the City of Dis is horrifying.

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“God died for you.”

You’ve heard it a thousand times. But, what does it mean?

Is the Cross just emotional manipulation—a guilt trip?

Or did logic, justice, and infinite love demand it?

One quick, honest look at the Cross could shatter everything you thought you knew about God’s love.

Reminder: this publication is 100% reader-supported. We are only able to continue writing it thanks to the members who support our mission.

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Justice as the Virtue of Harmony

You need to understand that even if you were the only human to have ever lived—God would have died for you. When Jesus died on the Cross, he reconciled man to God, as man has sinned against this Creator—and this was not some abstract act, Jesus had you on His mind when He entered into His Passion and suffered.

But why do Christians believe He had to die?

When you sin (or commit an injustice) the punishment and remediation for that sin is proportionate to the good violated. For example, if someone steals your truck, the punishment must be balanced to the crime—it would be disproportionate (and thus unjust) to execute them or put them in prison for life. The good harmed does not demand it. Furthermore, the restoration or remediation would also need to be commensurate with the value of the truck, i.e., buying them a new truck.

In other words, justice is the virtue of harmony and proportionality. It brings a beauty to the parts by arranging them in order—and the criminal justice system, for example, is supposed to restore the harmony that injustice (a discord) enacted.

So, what do Christians believe this has to do with the Cross?

The Intimacy of God to His Creation

God is the Creator, and man is the creature. In fact, you can view humans as thoughts of God made flesh—He is the Divine Mind and you are a thought of that Mind given created being. You think of things because they exist, but things exist because God thinks of them. God not only created you but holds you in being at all times—you cannot exist apart from him. As St. Augustine states, God is closer to you than you are to yourself.

It is difficult to exaggerate how intimate God is to you—and how you rely on God for your entire being.

So, here is the problem.

God gave mankind free will—which is a necessary principle of true love. For love to be given, it must be given freely. The liberty of Adam and Eve was not given to them to choose between good and evil; but rather, the true purpose of freedom is the ability to choose amongst goods—and one of those goods is to love.

As you know, the story of Adam and Eve is simple but profound—humanity, in its first parents, elected to disobey God and use freedom to pursue a false good outside of Him. The act brought sin and injustice into the world.

So, think about the intimacy explained above.

You disobeying God is like a thought warring against the Mind that thinks it. It is a complete disharmony, an existential discord that enters into an otherwise intimate and beautiful relationship.

But, what does this have to do with the Cross of Christ?

The Answer of the Cross

Jesus Christ is the answer to the problem of justice—the logical problem of the disorder between the creature and the Creator, the thought and the Mind. Here is a simple explanation worthy of deep consideration.

When humanity sinned against God, it was an act of injustice, and each act of injustice is proportionate in its severity according to the good violated. But here is the problem… God is not just “a good.” He is Goodness itself. He is the source of all good, He is Infinite Goodness.

So, humanity’s injustice against God is against an infinite Goodness—which means it demands a proportionate punishment, an infinite one. Here, you can start to see the logic of hell. Moreover, to mend the relationship, to have remediation, a restoration of the relationship, also takes an infinite effort—one in balance with the good harmed.

Humanity owes an infinite debt to God, but humanity is finite. Only God is infinite goodness.

So, here is the problem as simple as can be: humanity owes the debt but only God has the power to pay it.

In other words, humanity was left without the capacity to amend its own error—it could neither pay the punishment nor restore the relationship.

Here is the key. The only way the relationship between God and man could be restored is if there was a God-man. Justice demanded a marriage between man who owed the debt and God’s power to pay it.

Hence, the God-man, Jesus Christ, is the answer to this cosmic injustice.

The answer is a God willing to suffer for His Creation—to show what love is. Though He was owed the debt, God was willing to step into humanity and pay it.

It is a beautiful story of love—a love for you.

The Cross as an Invitation

Christians believe that God loves you SO MUCH that He became a man to pay our debt and restore our relationship with Him. Even if you were the only human soul ever born, God would have still died for you. In fact, there has never been anyone who has been born for whom God did not die—He died for everyone.

The choice is yours.

Christianity is an invitation to become part of the new humanity, a humanity under the headship of Jesus Christ—to accept the sacrificial gift of Jesus’ death and resurrection and step into the mended relation between God and humanity. In fact, through Jesus Christ, God offers you His grace—which means His “divine life.”

When Christians speak of “being saved,” these are the deep theologies underneath that simple statement—that the Divine Mind has restored the relationship with His own thoughts. The Creator has invited the creature into a restored and perfected harmony with Him—in which the only visible creature made in the image of God (Imago Dei) can participate in the divine life and enjoy that beatific experience for all eternity.

Through the Cross, God offers a deep and abiding rest, a tranquility of order, between the creature and the Creator, the thought and the Mind.

Jesus loves you.

PODCAST ANNOUNCEMENT: We are partnering with our friends over at Ascend: The Great Books Podcast to start a series of podcast episodes on some of our most popular articles here on The Ascent! First, we are going to discuss the hidden meaning of Narnia’s endless winter; and second, we’ll discuss the spiritual harm of lying. We want your QUESTIONS! We would love to answer your questions about these articles on the podcast. Submit your questions on our subscriber-only community chat. Good things ahead!

Dcn. Harrison Garlick is a deacon, husband, father, Chancellor, and attorney. He lives in rural Oklahoma with his wife and five children. He is also the host of Ascend: The Great Books Podcast. Follow him on X at Dcn. Garlick or Ascend.