NIGHT OF FIRE

When French philosopher and mathematician Blaise Pascal died, a piece of paper was found sewn in his cloak. He had written it nine years earlier, on Monday, November 23, 1654. Before then he had been wildly successful and deeply unhappy. On that Monday night, he met God.

People knew that Pascal had changed. One day he had been drowning in confusion; the next he was free of it. One day he had been unhappy with his life, disgusted with his world and himself, and then there was a change in his world. My own favorite indicator was that he began to make his own bed. He began to rely less and less on his servants. He became one of the servants.

But Pascal never told anyone about his "night of fire," never breathed a word. No one would have known, except after Pascal died, his nephew and a servant were sorting through Pascal's clothing when the servant found what he thought was extra padding. It turned out to be a piece of crumpled parchment with a faded piece of paper. Pascal had sewn it into his clothes so he could wear it next to his heart. These were the words he had penned:
      Fire.
      GOD of Abraham, GOD of Isaac, GOD of Jacob.
      But the God of the philosophers and of the learned.
      Certitude. Certitude. Feeling. Joy. Peace.
      GOD of Jesus Christ . . .
      Forgetfulness of the world and of everything, except GOD.
      Grandeur of the human soul.
      Joy, Joy, Joy, tears of joy …

-- John Ortberg in Faith & Doubt

 
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