1 John

Wow. I'm doing my theology paper on the book of 1 John, and it has already, on my first night of checking it out, become absurdly complex and delightfully intricate. It reminds me of the snow dance in the Silver Chair. Current tally: eight snowballs connected, two in the face. Four repetitions of "Beloved?" What's with that?

However, there has been a lot of great dodging as well. Definitely chiastic (but confusingly so), light and life references to John, and lots of cool stuff. John is definitely my favorite author, and I cannot wait to have time to delve into the John and Revelation as two halves of the same book theory.

Blessings,
Jesse Broussard

Selah

"Lacking a clear consensus from the scholars I have felt free to offer the less scholarly but more entertaining suggestion that Selah is a Philistine expletive that David learned during those hard years when he was banished from Saul's court and knocking around with ruffians and outlaws in the wilderness. He used it whenever he broke a string on his harp." Answering God, 148.

The Amazing Tale of the Butterfly-Unicorn-Ballerina-Princess and the Giant Creeping Land Squid

For a tidbit of N. D. Wilson, click on my title.

N. D. Wilson

To read the great epic ballad (not really) of Knox and the Sheep, among other things, click on my title.

Thanks to the Garden (Alexander, that is)

Beautiful.

Food for Thought

While re-reading The Lord's Service by Jeff Meyers (which everyone that ever darkens the doors of a church should do), I encountered a thought in a dark corner of my mind. Since bringing it into the light, it has grown too large already to be put back, and threatens to write up a lease agreement for the upstairs bedroom.

Could communion be defended as the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil? All elements seem to be there, and it is there that we eat and drink of our "dying you shall die" type of death.

Anyone with thoughts, feel free to hurl them at me.

A Bit Salty

Wow. I just read through a comment war on one of the articles at World Magazine, and feel compelled to ask: why is it that Christians are the most uncharitable people on the planet, but only towards each other? Why are Calvinists assured that God can change anything but an Arminian's mind, postmillenialists depressed, and paedobaptists bad parents? And when we get into arguments with those who will stand shoulder to shoulder with us before God? We are shrill self-righteous little twits, running in circles throwing things at each other like two irresponsible paedo's kids unsupervised in a nursery.

Now that the vent session is over, why are we so tempted toward the faults we should be the farthest from? "When confronted with a flood, we grab fire extinguishers" as Lewis said (but I'm too lazy to find out where or the exact quote). When God said to let our speech be seasoned with salt, we seem to forget that there was a first half to the verse, forgo the shaker and go for the ten-pound Costco bag.

And Thank You Miss Martens

Claire never metanarrative she didn't like.