[ Home ] [ Fiction ] [ A Love Eternal ] [ Contact Us ]
[ The Crimson Thread ] [ The Marketplace ] [ White Buck Publishing ]

By clicking on a particular title, you will be transported to the appropriate catalog page whereby you will receive the most current price, availability, and complete online ordering information.

"Poetry is the speech of hope. If there were no God, there could be no hope." --(George MacDonald)--

Edited by: Michael R. Phillips, Bethany House Publishers, Copyright © 1990 Michael R. Phillips, 187 Pages. Originally published in 1887 as Home Again.

"The radiance of the message shines through with unclouded clarity—the message that, as MacDonald himself says, obedience is the opener of eyes."

He left the quiet countryside the follower of ambition. He would return a different man.

The Poet's Homecoming casts forth a dark shadow that far too many who profess a faith in Christ and an abiding love of God share—a tree, with branches outstretched and raised toward the heavens, proclaiming a love of the Sun, the rain, the rich earth—all gracious gifts of life, abundantly bestowed by a loving Father—, yet bringing forth fruit that is rotten with worldly ambition, and crawling with the worms of passion, lust, greed, and, rising above all others, the idol—self.

Richard Coleman is, in the eyes of his narrow world, and, more specifically his own mind, a good man; a young man who, having been well-educated at his simple father's expense, is anxious to make a name for himself. The son of a hardworking, God-loving, kindhearted farmer who has willingly and lovingly given all that he has—spiritual as well as material—to his only son with the single hope that he will follow as God may direct, Richard feels the farm and manual labor beneath him, while his father has increasingly become an embarrassment to one of his elevated expectations. Unfortunately, Richard, not unlike the majority of us, has gazed into the mirror of the Universe and has seen reflected, as the Sun, an image in his own likeness. He eagerly departs the farm with his father's blessings, prayers, and lifesavings in order to radiate forth his manifold talent's to a world that is, in his opinion, anxiously awaiting his arrival that it may, with due awe and reverence, worship and praise this newly-formed star.

Richard soon discovers that the world for which he holds such esteem is not quite so free to bow and offer up its praise. He finds himself surrounded by a constellation of would-be luminaries with little to differentiate the brilliance of the true suns from the reflected light of the lesser moons. Left alone to his own devices, Richard soon, to his chagrin, learns the bitter lesson that true life is far, far above the base goals that he so vigorously chosen to pursue. He is forced to view his reflection through the eyes of truth, and is forever changed by that which he sees.

The process of rebirth, of life from death, is, while never easy, oft times extremely painful and exceedingly unpleasant. The realization that a life has been falsely lived, that independence is a fallacy, that the god of self (self-reliance, self-gratification, self-worth, self-indulgence, self-pride) is the greatest lie of all, serve to insure that true conviction and repentance are processes bathed in both the tears of shame and remorse as well as those of joy—born of the realization that a loving Father did not, would not, abandon His child.

MacDonald, with the skill of a master theologian and storyteller, traces such a rebirth through the life of Richard Coleman as the man of the world grows, suffers, and matures into a child of God.

Come visit the Coleman family, for by so doing, you will discover a true taste for Heaven and an abiding dislike of hell. .--(Dr. David J. Thomas)--

We welcome the opportunity to hear from you. Please feel free to share your experiences, comments, and recommendations. As fellow pilgrims, we are all making this journey together. We may be reached via e-mail at The Book Nook.

Copyright © 1993-2006 White Buck Publishing

All rights reserved.