I find myself currently reading two sets of journals - those of John Wesley and Thomas Merton. I didn't plan to do this deliberately; it just sort of worked out that way. The contrasts between the two are interesting:
John Wesley (1703-1791) was, of course, the Anglican priest who began the Methodist movement (Arminian division) in the Church of England during the second half (more or less) of the 18th century. His journal is full of "busyness" - he went here, he went there, he preached (and, often in the early days, was not invited back) here and there, he talked to this one and that one, he did this and that. Despite the busyness, though, Wesley's journal is full of love for God and Christ, and he is constantly seeking opportunities to get away from the busyness and stay his heart on God.
Thomas Merton (1915-1968) was the French-born American Roman Catholic priest and Trappist monk (he was born in France but he was not French: his father was a New Zealander and his mother was an American). Merton's journal is, in some ways, the opposite of Wesley's. Merton spends more of his time staying his heart on God but "busyness" keeps intruding: as a writer, his superiors, rather than discouraging it, encouraged him to keep writing, both for himself and for the Order. So, while Merton keeps trying to focus on God, writing projects (as well as his various duties as a monk) keep getting in the way. And, of course, his life changed forever when his autobiography, The Seven Storey Mountain, was published in 1948, in which he describes his search for God and his transition to the monastic life.
In some ways, it's easier to read Wesley (while reading around his Arminianism) because I can more easily identify with his straightforward evangelicalism - he stays pretty much glued to the Bible. With Merton, I spend a lot of time reading around his Roman Catholicism (which I can do with ease, being a former RC myself). However, Merton has a lot of interesting things to say about how Christianity can work itself into your interior life. And he's amusing to read because there are times when a sarcastic or sardonic remark will slip out, letting us see the struggle he had with keeping focused on God.
Another interesting contrast is the length of their lives: Wesley died in 1791 at 87, an old man and full of days. Merton died at 53 when he accidentally grabbed a poorly-grounded electric fan while stepping out of his bathtub, dying on the exact date (December 10, 1968) of his 27th anniversary of entering the Abbey of Gethsemani (in Kentucky) as a monk.
I'm finding this double-reading experience to be interesting.


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