I’ve been thinking quite a bit about Herman Melville, which I know sounds more than a little odd. Reading Philip Hoare’s The Whale, which explores whales while retracing the travels of Ishmael in Melville’s Moby Dick, reminded me of W.H. Auden’s poem “Herman Melville.” (Note: even as I wrote the previous sentence, I realized that it reads like a nerd’s scavenger hunt).

Melville’s classic novel was based on his actual experiences on a whaling ship. He wrote about the world he inhabited for years. The intensity of the novel matched his own youthful intensity for adventure and conquest. Hoare, who studied Melville’s life for his novel, wrote the same drivenness that “made him also unmade him.” Having lived a sea-faring adventure, he found normal life on land under-stimulating and unsatisfying. However, in Auden’s poem, we find an aged Melville who has found a better, albeit different adventure.

“Herman Melville” by W.H. Auden

“Towards the end he sailed into an extraordinary mildness,
And anchored in his home and reached his wife
And rode within the harbour of her hand,
And went across each morning to an office
As though his occupation were another island….”

I cannot get that stanza out of my mind. In fact, it has slipped down into my soul. At first, it seemed strange since I really don’t care that much about Melville. But, as I was spending time with the Lord this morning, I realized that I am drawn to it because I long for such a transformation.

Total Transformation

One of the things that most stirs hope in my heart is witnessing the transformation of Peter and John throughout the New Testament. A son of Thunder, once marked by fervor, becomes a son of love, marked by the Spirit of his Savior. The one who wanted to tell fire to come down from heaven to destroy a Samaritan village became the gentle, aged saint who spoke patience and long-suffering over God’s persecuted people. He no longer trusted in his own devices; he and Peter had learned to “entrust their souls to a faithful Creator while doing good” (1 Peter 4: 19; Revelation 1: 9).

Son of Thunder

A Son of Thunder,
Softened by love,
Calls fire no more,
But grace from above.

One who rode zeal
Reclines in rest.
Ambition stilled
On Jesus’ chest.

From zealous child
To Mary’s new son;
The tender caregiver
Who refused to run.

The Son of Man met
the Son of Thunder.
Love remade him
A Son of Wonder.

Impetuous Peter who boldly told Christ he would never let him suffer becomes broken-yet-restored Peter who hears Jesus personal prophecy over him: “Truly, truly, I say to you, when you were young, you used to dress yourself and walk wherever you wanted, but when you are old, you will stretch out your hands, and another will dress you and carry you where you do not want to go” (Matthew 16: 22; John 21: 18). In his letters to the churches, we see a seasoned soul shepherd who has settled into tender submission to his Savior. Peter, who as a young disciple lacked self-control, urges his flock to be self-controlled (1 Peter 4: 7). Likewise, Peter, who was known for his impatience and impetuous nature, reminds his flock to count the Lord’s slowness as his tender patience towards them (2 Peter 3: 8–9). The same Peter who was struggling with story comparison and wanting a better ending than John would ask to be crucified upside down, knowing he was not worthy to die in the exact same manner as his Christ (John 21: 20–21).

Jesus does his work well. He never leaves well enough alone. He accepts us as we are, but he never leaves us there. If marital love was enough to make adventure-seeking Melville sail “into an extraordinary mildness,” than how much more can the all-powerful, all-loving, ever-patient Father’s love transform us? What hope we hold as his children and apprentices!