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James Tunstead Burtchaell, The dying of the light: the disengagement of colleges and universities from their Christian churches (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1998), 588. This was somewhere between 1949 and 1965.
. . . sophisticated learning is [not] like wealth and power, those inexorable corrupters of authentic faith. Yet . . . higher learning, if not an irresistible seducer, is still a very able one. The mind's affluence does seem at least as beguiling as that of the body. There was, in the stories told here, little learned rage against the dying of the light. Yet this book is written in the belief that the ambition to unite 'knowledge and vital piety' is a wholesome and hopeful and stubborn one. It is a shame that so much of yesterday's efforts has become compost for those of tomorrow.
. . . The failures of the past, so clearly patterned, so foolishly ignored, and so lethally repeated, emerge pretty clearly from these stories. Anyone who requires further imagination to recognize and remedy them is not up to the taks of trying again, and better.
That His grace would not be grace without His judgment is just as true as the supposed opposite with which it is indissolubly connected, that there is no holiness of God which can be separated from His grace, and therefore no wrath of God—this is something which, unfortunately, A. Ritschl did not even remotely understand—that can be anything other than the redemptive fire of His love, which has its final and proper work in the fact that for our sake, for the sake of man fallen in sin and guilt, He did not spare His only Son.