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John Milton, "When I Consider
How My Light is Spent"
When I consider how my light is spent,
Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide,
And that one Talent which is death to hide
Lodged with me useless, though my Soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, lest he returning chide;
“Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?”
I fondly ask. But patience, to prevent
That murmur, soon replies, “God doth not need
Either man’s work or his own gifts; who best
Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state
Is Kingly. Thousands at his bidding speed
And post o’er Land and Ocean without rest:
They also serve who only stand and wait.
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/john-milton
A Discussion of the Poem by two
Scholars of English Literature
Joanne Diaz and Abram Van Engen
Standing and Waiting:
A Process Appreciation
John Milton's "When I Consider How My Light is Spent," is a reflection on his blindness and how it affects his relationship with God. His light is spent, and he finds himself in a world that is dark, frightening, and wide. Two spiritual virtues emerge that are sometimes neglected in process theology: standing and waiting.
Standing is a metaphor for the activity of being still and attentive, bringing your whole self to it. Waiting is a metaphor for patience: being present to a situation without the expectation of immediate, or even any, resolution. For Milton, standing and waiting are forms of obedience to God. A process theologian will understand obedience as being responsive to the inwardly felt lure of God in the immediacy of the moment. To be obedient to God, then, is to be obedient to the call of the moment.
It is possible to imagine that God, too, stands and waits, present to the world in a mindful way, sharing in the joys and sorrows of all living beings, waiting to see what choices they make, and responding with possibilities that they can actualize, embodying the best for the situation at hand. And it is possible that, for God, being with the world in this way is a way of sharing in the situations of the world, some of them irresolvable but bearable in constructive ways. God, too, knows what it is like to go blind.
*
In the poem, Joanne Diaz and Abram van Engen (see above) read Milton's poem as involving both help from God and anger with God. On the one hand, at the beginning of the poem, Milton is angry at God for having caused his blindness. The line “Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?” is Milton's voice, not God's. He is challenging God. But then another cosmic voice, that of patience, chastens his anger. He realizes that God does not need his labor but rather his endurance, which itself is a form of service to God. To stand and wait is to be still and to serve in the stillness, which is itself a form of obedience. Is this other voice God's voice? Milton's voice? A co-created voice? The voice of a creaturely spirit? The poem does not say. It is the voice that brings the narrator to awareness and to greater obedience to the divine, mysterious being in his Kingly state.
*
The need among process theologians is to recognize that the value of beliefs in God and about God lie, not simply in the content of the ideas, but in how they function in people's lives. This is true of process approaches as well as classical ideas. Milton's poem is a reminder that "truth" is not simply in ideas, but in how we live, and that, in some circumstances, standing and waiting is the most beautiful thing a person can do. Even the God of process theology can call us, sometimes, to stand and wait, not because God causes and controls the circumstances, but because standing and waiting are the best and only option for the situation at hand.
In process theology, providence lies in the fact that, whatever happens in our lives, there are fresh possibilities for response derived from God and tailored to that situation. God wants the best for us. This includes circumstances of illness, of going blind. The fresh possibilities are to respond with courage and with trust that, even when circumstances obstruct whatever talent we had, some kind of consolation is at hand and perhaps some kind of hope. Difficulties in life, including illness, can be a context for creative transformation, for awakening to deeper truths.
For some people, this awakening can be enriched by process understandings of God: the idea that God does not know the future in advance, that God does not exercise unilateral power, that difficult circumstances are not part of a divine plan. But for some, like John Milton, other ways of thinking about God provide a context for such an awakening.
There is no need to be a fundamentalist. No need to prioritize one way of thinking about God that others are quickly dismissed as "bad theology." The better option is to stand and wait: that is, to be still and listen for a while. Listen to how given ideas of God are functioning in people's lives. It is certainly true that sometimes classically theistic ideas function in destructive ways. But it is also the case that open and relational ideas might likewise function in less than ideal ways, if not also destructive. There are people who, amid great difficulties, need to feel that God is in control even as they aren't. They need to feel that there is a plan. Open and relational ideas can be, for them, harmful, not helpful.
The need in life, in times of health as well as illness, is to approach the world in a listening way, open to ambiguity and fluidity. Milton's poem is a friend to that approach.
- Jay McDanielJohn Milton's "When I Consider How My Light is Spent," is a reflection on his blindness and how it affects his relationship with God. His light is spent, and he finds himself in a dark world that is simultaneously wide and spacious. Two spiritual virtues emerge that are sometimes neglected in process theology: standing and waiting. Standing is the activity of being still and attentive, bringing your whole self to the circumstances at hand. Waiting is a metaphor for patience: being present to a situation without the expectation of immediate, or even any, resolution. For Milton, standing and waiting are forms of obedience to God. A process theologian will understand obedience as being responsive to the inwardly felt lure of God in the immediacy of the moment. To be obedient to God, then, is to be obedient to the call of the moment. It is possible to imagine that God, too, stands and waits, present to the world in a mindful way, sharing in the joys and sorrows of all living beings, waiting to see what choices they make, and responding with possibilities that they can actualize, embodying the best for the situation at hand. And it is possible that, for God, being with the world in this way is a way of sharing in the situations of the world, some of them irresolvable but bearable in constructive ways. God, too, knows what it is like to go blind. Standing and waiting has its own kind of beauty, human and divine.
Standing is a metaphor for the activity of being still and attentive, bringing your whole self to it. Waiting is a metaphor for patience: being present to a situation without the expectation of immediate, or even any, resolution. For Milton, standing and waiting are forms of obedience to God. A process theologian will understand obedience as being responsive to the inwardly felt lure of God in the immediacy of the moment. To be obedient to God, then, is to be obedient to the call of the moment.
It is possible to imagine that God, too, stands and waits, present to the world in a mindful way, sharing in the joys and sorrows of all living beings, waiting to see what choices they make, and responding with possibilities that they can actualize, embodying the best for the situation at hand. And it is possible that, for God, being with the world in this way is a way of sharing in the situations of the world, some of them irresolvable but bearable in constructive ways. God, too, knows what it is like to go blind.
*
In the poem, Joanne Diaz and Abram van Engen (see above) read Milton's poem as involving both help from God and anger with God. On the one hand, at the beginning of the poem, Milton is angry at God for having caused his blindness. The line “Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?” is Milton's voice, not God's. He is challenging God. But then another cosmic voice, that of patience, chastens his anger. He realizes that God does not need his labor but rather his endurance, which itself is a form of service to God. To stand and wait is to be still and to serve in the stillness, which is itself a form of obedience. Is this other voice God's voice? Milton's voice? A co-created voice? The voice of a creaturely spirit? The poem does not say. It is the voice that brings the narrator to awareness and to greater obedience to the divine, mysterious being in his Kingly state.
*
The need among process theologians is to recognize that the value of beliefs in God and about God lie, not simply in the content of the ideas, but in how they function in people's lives. This is true of process approaches as well as classical ideas. Milton's poem is a reminder that "truth" is not simply in ideas, but in how we live, and that, in some circumstances, standing and waiting is the most beautiful thing a person can do. Even the God of process theology can call us, sometimes, to stand and wait, not because God causes and controls the circumstances, but because standing and waiting are the best and only option for the situation at hand.
In process theology, providence lies in the fact that, whatever happens in our lives, there are fresh possibilities for response derived from God and tailored to that situation. God wants the best for us. This includes circumstances of illness, of going blind. The fresh possibilities are to respond with courage and with trust that, even when circumstances obstruct whatever talent we had, some kind of consolation is at hand and perhaps some kind of hope. Difficulties in life, including illness, can be a context for creative transformation, for awakening to deeper truths.
For some people, this awakening can be enriched by process understandings of God: the idea that God does not know the future in advance, that God does not exercise unilateral power, that difficult circumstances are not part of a divine plan. But for some, like John Milton, other ways of thinking about God provide a context for such an awakening.
There is no need to be a fundamentalist. No need to prioritize one way of thinking about God that others are quickly dismissed as "bad theology." The better option is to stand and wait: that is, to be still and listen for a while. Listen to how given ideas of God are functioning in people's lives. It is certainly true that sometimes classically theistic ideas function in destructive ways. But it is also the case that open and relational ideas might likewise function in less than ideal ways, if not also destructive. There are people who, amid great difficulties, need to feel that God is in control even as they aren't. They need to feel that there is a plan. Open and relational ideas can be, for them, harmful, not helpful.
The need in life, in times of health as well as illness, is to approach the world in a listening way, open to ambiguity and fluidity. Milton's poem is a friend to that approach.
- Jay McDanielJohn Milton's "When I Consider How My Light is Spent," is a reflection on his blindness and how it affects his relationship with God. His light is spent, and he finds himself in a dark world that is simultaneously wide and spacious. Two spiritual virtues emerge that are sometimes neglected in process theology: standing and waiting. Standing is the activity of being still and attentive, bringing your whole self to the circumstances at hand. Waiting is a metaphor for patience: being present to a situation without the expectation of immediate, or even any, resolution. For Milton, standing and waiting are forms of obedience to God. A process theologian will understand obedience as being responsive to the inwardly felt lure of God in the immediacy of the moment. To be obedient to God, then, is to be obedient to the call of the moment. It is possible to imagine that God, too, stands and waits, present to the world in a mindful way, sharing in the joys and sorrows of all living beings, waiting to see what choices they make, and responding with possibilities that they can actualize, embodying the best for the situation at hand. And it is possible that, for God, being with the world in this way is a way of sharing in the situations of the world, some of them irresolvable but bearable in constructive ways. God, too, knows what it is like to go blind. Standing and waiting has its own kind of beauty, human and divine.
About John Milton
John Milton (1608-1674) was an English poet, writer, and civil servant from London. He is best known for his magnum opus "Paradise Lost," considered one of the greatest works in English literature. Despite grappling with blindness in his later years, Milton's literary prowess remained undiminished. Alongside his poetic endeavors, he was a staunch champion of political and religious liberty, expressing his convictions through persuasive essays and pamphlets. His contributions to literature and ideas have left an enduring impact, shaping our understanding of the world. For more, see the introduction to his life and work in Poetry Foundation. Click here.