Seasoned Timber; A Metaphor of Christian Maturity.

This old railway sleeper has been recycled as a strainer post. I first came across it in 1978 on holiday and walking along the Inverbervie to Gourdon coastal path. Since well before then it has held the wire tension of the fence, facing the sea only 50 metres away. I love old weathered wood, seasoned timber. Looking at it today, running my fingers over the rough, scarred and cracked surface, wondering what tales it might tell of those who have walked this path, gazed on this sea, carried within them their own tensions and strains.

One of my favourite phrases, seasoned timber. It is one of the metaphors used by George Herbert to describe the soul's resilience, defiant presence in the face of storm or sunshine, core strength that holds the tensions and makes the fence. But at a cost, engraved on the face, that roughened surface of the wood itself a metaphor for those lines and features that give a face its character, and map on the surface the struggles of the soul.

One of the reasons I've spent so much time on the company of a metaphysical poet turned 17th Century country parson, is Herbert's use of such everyday objects as an old piece of weathered wood, 'seasoned timber'.

Standing beside this post today, and inwardly reciting the last verse of 'Virtue' I could feel on my fingertips decades of wear and tear, but aware too of the beauty of aged wood, and how the knots and cracks add to rather than subtract from the sum total of its character. In other words the character is engrained, the grain of the wood mapping the long erosion and shaping of wind, rain, frost and sun. And I became aware that who I am is equally shaped by erosive forces of wind and rain, frost and sun, or their equivalents of struggle and tears, sorrow and joy, seasoned timber.  

Herbert's imagination is of timber that 'never gives', absorbs force, takes the strain. That can mean so many things - to live without pressure warping our integrity; to bear stress without splitting; to survive intact and strong through the four seasons; this is about virtue, that quality of character that comes from countless daily choices of the good when that which was less good was more attractive, advantageous or less costly. So I contemplate those photos of seasoned timber, remember the feel of the weathered contours and worn surfaces, and marvel at the ways God shapes and forms us towards his image in Christ.

Virtue, George Herbert

Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright
The bridal of the earth and sky:
The dew shall weep thy fall tonight,
For thou must die.

Sweet rose, whose hue, angry and brave,
Bids the rash gazer wipe his eyes:
Thy root is ever in its grave,
And thou must die.

Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses,
A box where sweets compacted lie:
My music shows ye have your closes,
And all must die.

Only a sweet and virtuous soul,
Like seasoned timber, never gives;
But though the whole world turn to coal.
Then chiefly lives.

Comments

[Jason Goroncy]

Wow. What a wonder-ful post. True gift. Thank you.

[Beverley Smith]

I too turned to Herbert this morning in my devotions, his the Flower: grief melts away like snow in May ....and now in age I bud again. It felt like a little love-tap from God to turn to your blog and find his great verse there as well. Thank you.

[Jim Gordon]

Thank you too Beverley, for your encouragement. George Herbert is such a demanding poet, but also one who is rich and enriching.