Read Online An All-Consuming Fire by Donna Fletcher Crow - Free Book Online

mystics, and where others see or feel reality, he hears it. Melody was his normal form of prayer. His life was set to music—sunny and carefree.”
    Cynthia considered, then nodded. “That’s better. He does sound the most complete innocent, though.”
    “Yes, I suppose he was. At least at that stage of his life. It was a glorious time for him, though—a shining vision that stayed with him and instructed the rest of his life. One gets the feeling that Richard found a great deal of
fun
in his life with Jesus.”
    Antony returned to his script. “But Richard couldn’t stay in his hermitage by the manor house and enjoy visions of Divine love for the rest of his life. Now the challenge was to put this great gift to work: apply the love to the world around him, share the vision with others.”
    “Oh, good. Getting practical, is he?”
    Antony cocked an eyebrow. “I’m not sure I’d go that far. Of this part of Rolle’s life we have only scanty information. We know that he traveled from manor house to manor house for his living, conversing with people in a desire to help them, but this mission effort does not seem to have met with much success, or to have lasted long.”
    Antony looked down at his notes. When he had these smoothed out he would have to make some attempt to memorize the main points. He hadn’t really realized this undertaking was going to be so different from university lecturing. “As often happens after one experiences the heights, Richard now experienced the depths. He lost patrons and friends, his writing was rejected, living was difficult, and he was restless.
    “And he apparently struggled with his chastity. He records having temptations and the nuns of Hampole who wrote his biography record that a young woman loved him ‘in good love not a little’.”
    Antony looked up. “Should I take that bit out?”
    “Goodness no! It makes him sound almost normal. Pity we don’t know more. What did he say?”
    “Nothing more on the chastity issue. He records that he felt that his plans had failed, his labor was lost, and he was of no use to anybody. The very noises of the world gave him a headache.”
    “So what did he do?”
    “He refused to give into his funk.” Antony glanced at his notes. “Richard returned to the joys of contemplation. When his enemies tormented and defamed him he said he fled to God and sheltered under the shadow of His wing. The fire of love banished the power of the adversary.”
    “Nope, too lala. Cut that.”
    Antony grinned and pulled out his pen again. “Sylvia should put you on the payroll.” He considered for a moment. “How about: Now, freed from doubt and renewed with spiritual energy, Richard was free to get on about his ministry and be of comfort to those in spiritual or physical need, especially to the weak, the neglected and the poor. Having come through his own dark night of the soul he was undoubtedly better equipped to serve others.”
    “Sentences too long. You need to give yourself a chance to breathe and your listeners to follow your drift.”
    Antony tried again.
    Cynthia gave a satisfied nod.
    The next morning Antony chose to drive the A road eastward rather than take the more efficient, but far less scenic, motorway. Past Dewsbury and Wakefield the winding road led through a patchwork of farmland. He had allowed himself plenty of time to take a small detour through Kirkby since he would be telling the story of Margaret of Kirkby before the camera later in the morning. Even though the industrial revolution had changed the peaceful farming community of Margaret’s day beyond all recognition he hoped seeing its location would be instructive. Outside the village the road became narrower, more curving and the hedgerows lining the way higher. Antony encountered little traffic other than a few farm vehicles entering from the occasional driveway or field.
    Less than an hour’s drive brought him to the tiny village of Hampole which was really little more