O Ruler of the Universe: A Reflection on Magna Et Mirabilia
The Anglican Church in North America’s 2019 Book of Common Prayer (BCP) belongs to a long line of Prayer Books reaching back to Thomas Cranmer’s reinvigoration of English worship. Cranmer sought to place the church’s worship in the people’s language and shape their liturgical and devotional life. The 1549 Book of Common Prayer was the result, which he revised in 1552. Additional revisions occurred in 1559, 1604, and 1662, the last of which remains the official Prayer Book of the Church of England to this day and serves as the theological and liturgical standard for Anglicans worldwide. Many Anglicans, myself included, love the 1662, and IVP’s 1662 Book of Common Prayer: International Edition has broadened its use. The 2019 Book of Common Prayer, however, draws on nearly 400 years of Prayer Book history; the canticle Magna et Mirabilia (meaning “great and wonderful things”) offers a wonderful example.
This canticle entered the Prayer Book tradition in the 1979 Episcopal BCP and then passed into the 2019. Anglicans often debate which prayer book to use and how much latitude each should allow, but modern Prayer Book editions give believers additional devotional and worship aids. The Magna, drawn from Revelation 15:3-4, is one such aid. The 2019 BCP calls it “especially suitable for use in Advent and Easter,” and we will take this as our starting point for our mediations.
Sponsored
Line 1
O ruler of the universe, Lord God,
great deeds are they that you have done, *
surpassing human understanding.
“Our God is in the heavens; he does all that he pleases.” When we confess and proclaim that “God is great,” we mean it. Our God is great and awesome; he alone is the source of all being and fountain of all goodness. He alone sits “enthroned above the cherubim” (Isaiah 37:16; 1 Samuel 4:4), subdues “all enemies under his feet” (1 Corinthians 15:25), and “brings all things under his rule, authority, and dominion” (Ephesians 1:21-22). We do not wait for this to happen in some far-off, pie-in-the-sky millennium. We confess that God is now bringing all things under Christ. He does this because it crowns the greatest deed God ever did: he became like one of us.
The greatest mystery of the Christian faith, and the stumbling block now so familiar that it seems passé, is that God became a baby. The Creator, the infinite, immortal, all-powerful God, united to himself “a true body, and a reasonable soul” (Westminster Shorter Catechism, Question 22), entering the world as a wriggling, weak, blood-soaked infant who nursed from his mother. The One who spoke all things into being learned to talk by babbling. The pagan world knew heroes who stormed into Hades to soothe wounded pride; the world now saw the true Hero enter death for those he loved.
Line 2
Your ways are ways of righteousness and truth, *
O King of all the ages.
All humans crave justice because God made us in his image. We want the world governed fairly. We may define fairness differently, and we usually want it to favor us, but we want the universe to reward the good and punish the wicked. In our darkest night, we hope Someone in the darkness watches over us and keeps the world ordered this way.
The King who entered as a baby now sits enthroned as ruler of the nations. He governs all things and does all things well (Mark 7:37). No one will depose him or overthrow him; he is throwing down all his enemies. We struggle to accept that this work unfolds in stages. We want God to punish the wicked now and execute the guilty immediately, while exalting the righteous now and lifting up the humble yesterday. This is why we must learn that God acts as he sees fit.
Sometimes the Church grows by leaps and bounds, and the newspaper notices; at other times it grows at night, and no one sees when it springs up (Mark 4:27). God rules the world in the same way. At times, he brings a ruler to heel and the world rejoices; at other times, we must wait until the final day to see justice done. Still, we must never lose sight of this: God will carry out justice. We serve the judge and executioner, and He alone has the wisdom and authority to pass sentence and choose the right time to act. Like the Psalmist, we may complain about the wicked and wonder why they prosper. Yet like the Psalmist, we must “go into the temple of God” to “understand their end” (Psalm 73:17).
Line 3
Who can fail to do you homage, Lord,
and sing the praises of your Name? *
For you only are the Holy One.
Holiness conjures different images for different people. Some imagine long faces and dark robes; others see a shackle to overthrow. Most picture something drab, dusty, and cold. The idea that holiness could be appealing and desirable seems as foreign as enjoying cilantro in salsa. Yet this text calls God worthy of praise because he alone is the Holy One.
Let’s define terms first. Holiness means separation or distinction. To be holy is to be set apart, sometimes for a specific purpose. The basic idea remains the same: holiness marks something as different. This contrasts sharply with Isaiah’s experience in chapter 6.
In that glorious chapter, Isaiah receives his prophetic call. God grants him a vision of the Lord enthroned above the cherubim of the ark. Isaiah sees, as much as any human can see, the eternal, immortal, invisible, omnipotent, omniscient God, surrounded by servants and hosts. He hears the cry that rises daily before God’s altar: “Holy, Holy, Holy.” Holy to the highest degree: no one stands as set apart from creation as God does. How does Isaiah respond? He falls on his face and cries, “Woe is me! For I am lost; I am a man of unclean lips” (Isaiah 6:5). In other words, “Spare me! I am a sinner!” How do these pronouncements connect? And how can they still lead to praise?
The answer lies in what entered the world in the Garden of Eden: sin. Sin entered the world and spread into every nook and crevice of our existence. It infects everything. It opposes all that God is, so when God proclaims his holiness, his separation from sin stands out most. The Mosaic Code pressed this truth into Israel for 1,500 years. Nothing unclean, defiled, or impure could enter God’s presence. He was holy; they were not. They were defiled, yet they longed for an audience with the Holy One.
C.S. Lewis, my favorite Anglican, offers the best answer to this dilemma. In Surprised by Joy, Lewis writes that he grew up chasing a phenomenon he called Joy: an “unsatisfied desire which is itself more desirable than any other satisfaction.” The desire hurt because of its intensity, yet the desire itself delighted him and made him want it again. Others describe similar experiences as awe, wonder, or longing. Lewis eventually found the source of all Joy not in creation but in the Creator, the Fountain of every joy and gladness we experience in time. Every sharp stab of wonder and delight echoes the eternal wonder we will one day fully experience face to face. We desire this, we yearn for this, and for this reason we praise God as the Holy One: he is the Fountain of all delights.
Line 4
All nations will draw near and fall down before you, *
because your just and holy works have been revealed.
I write in a chaotic world. My country of birth seethes with political tension; my country of heritage changes Prime Ministers like clothes; the Middle East remains as peaceful as a Thanksgiving meal; Ukraine is becoming a permanent war state; and everyone suspects an unnamed “Them” pulls every unseen string. We long for chaos and confusion to end, but we long even more for justice. We want God to punish the wicked, reward the just, vindicate the innocent, and sentence the guilty. Finally, we yearn to see good deeds openly honored, which explains why corrupt leaders anger us. Deep in our creaturely hearts, we know leaders must uphold a standard.
This desire for justice points beyond our own experience. We cannot merely wait for humanity to build justice in this world; every attempt to create a perfectly just society ends in failure or worse. This is how young people on college campuses get radicalized. First, someone teaches them a false system of justice; then someone convinces them they must perfect justice in this life. After all, that is all they have. So they chase an impossible ideal at breakneck speed and refuse anything that slows their pursuit of perfect fairness.
Our God is just and fair, and one day he will display that justice fully. We cannot rush him. For his own glory, our Lord has chosen to work slowly. At any moment, he could descend from heaven in a joyfully hot blaze and blast the world with the breath of his mighty power. He could eradicate evil now and set the world right. But he tells a different story. He is not writing a quick page-turner but a multi-volume novel. The ending will come when the Author sees fit; we must wait and play our part in our small paragraph, nestled within a larger chapter in a single volume. When we step back and grasp how small we are beside his just and wonderful plan, we have only one response:
Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit; *
as it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be,
world without end. Amen.
Image by Goinyk Production, courtesy of Canva. Digitally edited by Jacob Davis.
The Lord’s Prayer: A Rookie Anglican Guide
The Lord’s Prayer is one of the most well-known features of Christian worship. Many Christian denominations, even ones that don’t use pre-written prayers in their worship services, still teach children this prayer in Sunday school. However, to many Christians, Anglicans included, it can easily lose its meaning through rote repetition. So why do we pray…
Discipleship: Submission to Christ the Lord (Jerusalem Declaration 5)
The phrase “we gladly proclaim and submit” is the retrospective boast of a person—and a church—that has come to know and follow Jesus as the Holy One of God.
