There are few things that can get me out of bed at 4:30 in the morning. This morning was one of those rare occasions: a royal wedding.
Note that I knew very little about the wedding before Tuesday when I was invited to view it at 4:30 in the morning and I have not followed the royal family since I was a twelve year old girl convinced Prince Harry would marry me (that was before the drugs and the rehab, and after I concluded that Prince William was really not that attractive. Besides, as my mother would testify, Harry looks quite a bit like my kindergarten crush on the principal's son). But there I was, sitting on the floor of a dark apartment with a cup of black coffee and a blueberry scone, commenting on everything from the ruffled collars of the choir boys to the rather prim and bored expressions of the Prince.
All of that was frivolity and entertaining. What amazed me, was how God spoke through it.
I'm coming to an end of my Romans 12 semester and it has been an adventure. In some ways, I feel like I have grown more through it and in some ways, I feel like it was all meaningless. Yet, I keep having these verses run through my head and the thought of community done rightly at the forefront of my mind. Sitting at a banquet I wasn't too sure I wanted to attend, I heard someone commission my graduating class with my verse of the week, "Do not be haughty, but associate with the lowly. Never be conceited. Repay no one evil for evil, but give thought to do what is honorable in the sight of all." (says something about what the junior class thinks of the senior class, doesn't it?)
At 4:30 in the morning, sitting in my pajamas eating homemade biscotti and sipping coffee, I hear Princess Kate's brother read Romans 12:9-12, the summary of all the verses I have read thus far this semester.
Who knows what it means except that I am being reminded of what I am learning and how crucial these words are to my life and the Christian life, generally. So, if God brings these verses back into my head while I gush over a lovely wedding dress and a glorious wedding ceremony, I'll take them and remember that all of my life, even the passive moments, are to look like Romans 12:9-21.
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Wrath for the Beloved
"Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave it to the wrath of God."
I've been waiting for this week. How I love the wrath of God! If you've talked to me anytime in the last 3 months, I have told you a thousand reasons why divine wrath is good and essential. I have waited to tell you all about it and declare it good and righteous and holy.
But, having written a twenty page document on the subject matter, I thought I would steer this week a different direction.
Saints, you are beloved. Paul does not use this word flippantly, he is speaking a profound theological truth. You are loved by God. Not our secular love that is mere kindness and permissiveness. As C. S. Lewis says it in The Problem of Pain, God's love is "not a senile benevolence that drowsily wishes you to be happy in your own way, not the cold philanthropy of a conscientious magistrate, nor the care of a host who feels responsible for the comfort of his guests, but the consuming fire Himself, the Love that made the worlds, persistent as the artist's love for his work and despotic as man's love for a dog, jealous, inexorable, exacting as love between the sexes."
Saints, you are loved by God in that way. God's love is not passive. It is not common or like anything you experience. God's love is wholly other, fully consuming and deeply concerned with who you are. Therefore, since you are loved, let your love be genuine and act according to the promises of God.
For those of you who want to hear me affirm the wrath of God, you can read my paper here.
I've been waiting for this week. How I love the wrath of God! If you've talked to me anytime in the last 3 months, I have told you a thousand reasons why divine wrath is good and essential. I have waited to tell you all about it and declare it good and righteous and holy.
But, having written a twenty page document on the subject matter, I thought I would steer this week a different direction.
Saints, you are beloved. Paul does not use this word flippantly, he is speaking a profound theological truth. You are loved by God. Not our secular love that is mere kindness and permissiveness. As C. S. Lewis says it in The Problem of Pain, God's love is "not a senile benevolence that drowsily wishes you to be happy in your own way, not the cold philanthropy of a conscientious magistrate, nor the care of a host who feels responsible for the comfort of his guests, but the consuming fire Himself, the Love that made the worlds, persistent as the artist's love for his work and despotic as man's love for a dog, jealous, inexorable, exacting as love between the sexes."
Saints, you are loved by God in that way. God's love is not passive. It is not common or like anything you experience. God's love is wholly other, fully consuming and deeply concerned with who you are. Therefore, since you are loved, let your love be genuine and act according to the promises of God.
For those of you who want to hear me affirm the wrath of God, you can read my paper here.
Monday, April 25, 2011
Live Peaceably with Everyone
"If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all."
I had a lot of thoughts about the right blog for this one: a fantastic story about a roommate conflict that resolved itself by one girl declaring to the other that she was acting selfishly, and a reciprocal response; a road trip that thought me far more about who I am than I ever could have expected; a series of Apologetics lectures on thinking Christianly; a biblical/theological inquiry about what "peace" means biblically.
I don't want to tell you those stories today. I just have one thing I want to drive home:
Paul seems so skeptical here about peace. He doesn't think its possible. He gives you all of these outs. If it is possible, as far as it depends on you... Paul couldn't be less committal unless he simply didn't write it.
And I think there is a reason for it.
Peace isn't easy. It defies our natural instinct; its the reversal of what Genesis 3 promises the human race. Peace is the opposite of self-preservation and it is difficult in the face of diversity.
Note that Paul didn't tell the Romans to be permissive. In the same paragraph, they were called to HATE what is evil. But he asks them for something much harder — to strive to be peaceable amid opposition.
This morning in the office, Danica and I started a witty banter about a theology book, and she smirked, "Yeah, doesn't the Bible say carry your cross until its too heavy, and then put it down?"
I retorted, "Yep. Its right after store up all your wealth for yourself so that you can be happy."
Our mockery had a point. The Bible calls for hard things of us. It calls us to act contrary to our human nature and against our instincts. The human life calls for suffering and opposition. People will hate you for your beliefs, but you are still to strive to be peaceable in your declaration of what is right.
I had a lot of thoughts about the right blog for this one: a fantastic story about a roommate conflict that resolved itself by one girl declaring to the other that she was acting selfishly, and a reciprocal response; a road trip that thought me far more about who I am than I ever could have expected; a series of Apologetics lectures on thinking Christianly; a biblical/theological inquiry about what "peace" means biblically.
I don't want to tell you those stories today. I just have one thing I want to drive home:
Paul seems so skeptical here about peace. He doesn't think its possible. He gives you all of these outs. If it is possible, as far as it depends on you... Paul couldn't be less committal unless he simply didn't write it.
And I think there is a reason for it.
Peace isn't easy. It defies our natural instinct; its the reversal of what Genesis 3 promises the human race. Peace is the opposite of self-preservation and it is difficult in the face of diversity.
Note that Paul didn't tell the Romans to be permissive. In the same paragraph, they were called to HATE what is evil. But he asks them for something much harder — to strive to be peaceable amid opposition.
This morning in the office, Danica and I started a witty banter about a theology book, and she smirked, "Yeah, doesn't the Bible say carry your cross until its too heavy, and then put it down?"
I retorted, "Yep. Its right after store up all your wealth for yourself so that you can be happy."
Our mockery had a point. The Bible calls for hard things of us. It calls us to act contrary to our human nature and against our instincts. The human life calls for suffering and opposition. People will hate you for your beliefs, but you are still to strive to be peaceable in your declaration of what is right.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Love Wins What?
I wrote my senior thesis on the wrath of God. Halfway through my research, Rob Bell published Love Wins, a book about God's love trumping all else in the divine essence. Now that the debate has ceased and the blogs have stopped ticking out rebukes, I thought I'd throw my own out there.
Here is simply my review, the remainder of the paper, or portions of it, are likely to surface later because, let's face it, I spent a month of my life devoted to this piece and I heartily affirm its contents. Also, it should have footnotes, but blogger and I aren't particularly friends when it comes to formatting, so if you care for the references and witty side comments, e-mail me and I'll gladly send them on to you.
Rob Bell, the noted rockstar preacher of young, hip evangelicalism, recently questioned the wrath of God in his book, Love Wins. In this controversial best-seller, Bell repeatedly reminds his readers that his views on hell and God’s anger are a part of historic, orthodox Christianity. Yet, he veers quite far from this orthodoxy as he suggests that God’s love conquers his wrath, resulting in the salvation of all people, since God wills that none should perish. According to Bell, for the wrath of God to remain on a person eternally denies God’s grace, sovereignty, mercy, and most importantly, his love. Ascribing to a hierarchy of divine attributes, Bell sees God’s very essence as love, thus love must ultimately trump any other characteristic of God.
Yet, it is hard to say that Bell leaves any room for divine wrath at all. Without explicitly denying the wrath of God, Bell seems to reduce wrath to earthly social evils. God is love — to such an extent that he can do nothing unloving. Bell sees wrath as so far removed from God’s nature that God’s whole personality must become cruel and vicious in order for God to respond in wrath. Thus, while Bell certainly denies that God’s wrath is eternal, he leaves little room for God’s wrath in the here and now. Bell’s questions lead a reader to believe that God is so loving that wrath simply cannot be a part of his nature.
As an evangelical, Rob Bell cloaks his denial in the affirmation of Christian truths. At the surface, his argument against God’s wrath is compelling. For Bell, God’s wrath must not exist because God is love. Certainly, one must have sympathy with such positions because God’s love is vital to one’s understanding of God. Anything which contradicts God’s love should be denied. The problem, however, is that Bell sees contradiction where no contradiction exists. He sees love to the exclusion of all else. As Kevin DeYoung declares, “In Bell’s theology, God is love, a love that never burns hot with anger and a love that cannot distinguish or discriminate.” Because Bell’s love is isolated, it fails to be the love described in Scripture. Love in abstract is not love at all, for love requires many complementary doctrines which Bell eschews.
Instead, Bell’s god is loving, forgiving and gracious above all else. Such attributes make this god easy to digest and accept. Tertullian’s words seem fitting, “a better God has been discovered, one who is neither offended nor angry nor inflicts punishment, who has no fire warming up in hell, and no outer darkness wherein there is shuddering and gnashing of teeth: he is merely kind. Of course he forbids you to sin -- but only in writing.” When absolute and unconditional love is the supreme attribute of God, it requires all other characteristics of God to be diminished. Thus, God cannot be wrathful, and with his wrath goes his justice and holiness. Additionally, his mercy must be abandoned for God cannot be merciful if he is not angry in the first place. While Bell desperately wishes for people to feel the love of God, his theology so reduces this love that it becomes meaningless. By denying wrath, Bell’s cross becomes a mere demonstration of good feelings and misses out on the gospel’s central message of the Father’s loving sacrifice of his son. Bell states in his book, “ We shape our God, and then our God shapes us. A distorted understanding of God...can leave a person... without the thriving life Jesus insists is right here, all around us, all the time.” Bell’s words ring alarmingly true. He has shaped his god and his god has left him without the thriving life that comes through the propitiatory act of Jesus on the cross.
Bell’s god, in final analysis, looks no different than the flattened idols of liberalism and neo-orthodoxy. While many describe Bell as an evangelical, his beliefs about God’s wrath tell a far less orthodox story. DeYoung suggests that there is no room for Bell’s god within the “deep, wide, diverse stream” of Christianity for Bell’s view of God is irreconcilable with historic, orthodox faith. Bell’s god is a cheap knock-off of the vibrant deity who so loved the world that he wished to cleanse it of its sin. With wrath removed, Bell’s god looks like an idol of heterodox faith.
Here is simply my review, the remainder of the paper, or portions of it, are likely to surface later because, let's face it, I spent a month of my life devoted to this piece and I heartily affirm its contents. Also, it should have footnotes, but blogger and I aren't particularly friends when it comes to formatting, so if you care for the references and witty side comments, e-mail me and I'll gladly send them on to you.
If Love Wins, Then God Loses
Rob Bell, the noted rockstar preacher of young, hip evangelicalism, recently questioned the wrath of God in his book, Love Wins. In this controversial best-seller, Bell repeatedly reminds his readers that his views on hell and God’s anger are a part of historic, orthodox Christianity. Yet, he veers quite far from this orthodoxy as he suggests that God’s love conquers his wrath, resulting in the salvation of all people, since God wills that none should perish. According to Bell, for the wrath of God to remain on a person eternally denies God’s grace, sovereignty, mercy, and most importantly, his love. Ascribing to a hierarchy of divine attributes, Bell sees God’s very essence as love, thus love must ultimately trump any other characteristic of God.
Yet, it is hard to say that Bell leaves any room for divine wrath at all. Without explicitly denying the wrath of God, Bell seems to reduce wrath to earthly social evils. God is love — to such an extent that he can do nothing unloving. Bell sees wrath as so far removed from God’s nature that God’s whole personality must become cruel and vicious in order for God to respond in wrath. Thus, while Bell certainly denies that God’s wrath is eternal, he leaves little room for God’s wrath in the here and now. Bell’s questions lead a reader to believe that God is so loving that wrath simply cannot be a part of his nature.
As an evangelical, Rob Bell cloaks his denial in the affirmation of Christian truths. At the surface, his argument against God’s wrath is compelling. For Bell, God’s wrath must not exist because God is love. Certainly, one must have sympathy with such positions because God’s love is vital to one’s understanding of God. Anything which contradicts God’s love should be denied. The problem, however, is that Bell sees contradiction where no contradiction exists. He sees love to the exclusion of all else. As Kevin DeYoung declares, “In Bell’s theology, God is love, a love that never burns hot with anger and a love that cannot distinguish or discriminate.” Because Bell’s love is isolated, it fails to be the love described in Scripture. Love in abstract is not love at all, for love requires many complementary doctrines which Bell eschews.
Instead, Bell’s god is loving, forgiving and gracious above all else. Such attributes make this god easy to digest and accept. Tertullian’s words seem fitting, “a better God has been discovered, one who is neither offended nor angry nor inflicts punishment, who has no fire warming up in hell, and no outer darkness wherein there is shuddering and gnashing of teeth: he is merely kind. Of course he forbids you to sin -- but only in writing.” When absolute and unconditional love is the supreme attribute of God, it requires all other characteristics of God to be diminished. Thus, God cannot be wrathful, and with his wrath goes his justice and holiness. Additionally, his mercy must be abandoned for God cannot be merciful if he is not angry in the first place. While Bell desperately wishes for people to feel the love of God, his theology so reduces this love that it becomes meaningless. By denying wrath, Bell’s cross becomes a mere demonstration of good feelings and misses out on the gospel’s central message of the Father’s loving sacrifice of his son. Bell states in his book, “ We shape our God, and then our God shapes us. A distorted understanding of God...can leave a person... without the thriving life Jesus insists is right here, all around us, all the time.” Bell’s words ring alarmingly true. He has shaped his god and his god has left him without the thriving life that comes through the propitiatory act of Jesus on the cross.
Bell’s god, in final analysis, looks no different than the flattened idols of liberalism and neo-orthodoxy. While many describe Bell as an evangelical, his beliefs about God’s wrath tell a far less orthodox story. DeYoung suggests that there is no room for Bell’s god within the “deep, wide, diverse stream” of Christianity for Bell’s view of God is irreconcilable with historic, orthodox faith. Bell’s god is a cheap knock-off of the vibrant deity who so loved the world that he wished to cleanse it of its sin. With wrath removed, Bell’s god looks like an idol of heterodox faith.
Friday, April 15, 2011
Merton On Easter
Holy Week is almost here. I haven't been this excited since my childhood when I still thought that the Easter Bunny was real.
My Merton readings lately have been on the Lenten season, ironically enough. The past few days, however, I have refused to move on, I keep savoring the same words over and over again, utterly in love with what Merton is saying. I couldn't help but share his beautiful words on the Easter vigil and the new creation:
"I am aware that the Easter vigil retains many vestiges of primitive nature rites, and I am glad of it. I think this is perfectly proper and Christian. The mystery of fire, the mystery of water. The mystery of spring — Ver sacrum. Fire, water, spring, made sacred and explicit in the Resurrection, which finds in them symbols that point to itself. The old creation is made solely for the new creation. The new creation (of life out of death) springs from the old, even though the pattern of the old is falling away of life in death.
"Instead of stamping down the force of the new life rising in us by our very nature, let the new life be sweetened, sanctified by the bitterness of the Cross, which destroys death. We are no longer marked like Cain, but signed with the Blood of the Paschal Lamb."
-- Thomas Merton from Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander
I have much to say, and will gladly spent hours telling you of the glory of Gid as it is manifested in creation and the power of Cross to sanctify what is unholy, not merely what is human. But for now, I will let Merton's words stand alone, crying out a glorious Christian truth. One that can be heartily affirmed by Catholics and Protestants alike. Make God's glory shine in his creation.
My Merton readings lately have been on the Lenten season, ironically enough. The past few days, however, I have refused to move on, I keep savoring the same words over and over again, utterly in love with what Merton is saying. I couldn't help but share his beautiful words on the Easter vigil and the new creation:
"I am aware that the Easter vigil retains many vestiges of primitive nature rites, and I am glad of it. I think this is perfectly proper and Christian. The mystery of fire, the mystery of water. The mystery of spring — Ver sacrum. Fire, water, spring, made sacred and explicit in the Resurrection, which finds in them symbols that point to itself. The old creation is made solely for the new creation. The new creation (of life out of death) springs from the old, even though the pattern of the old is falling away of life in death.
"Instead of stamping down the force of the new life rising in us by our very nature, let the new life be sweetened, sanctified by the bitterness of the Cross, which destroys death. We are no longer marked like Cain, but signed with the Blood of the Paschal Lamb."
-- Thomas Merton from Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander
I have much to say, and will gladly spent hours telling you of the glory of Gid as it is manifested in creation and the power of Cross to sanctify what is unholy, not merely what is human. But for now, I will let Merton's words stand alone, crying out a glorious Christian truth. One that can be heartily affirmed by Catholics and Protestants alike. Make God's glory shine in his creation.
Thursday, April 14, 2011
A Belated Thought From Last Week
Rom 12:16 “Live in harmony with everyone. Do not be haughty but associate with the lowly; never be conceited.”
Funny. My calendar misses out on the “live in harmony with everyone” part.
Funny. I apparently wanted to make this week about pride — a powerful monster.
But why? Why is haughtiness and conceitedness a problem?
Because it destroys harmony.
Funny then, that this week, my problem wasn’t pride despite numerous opportunities for me to become overly arrogant and vain. I presented my senior thesis to rave reviews. I was hit on frequently by well-meaning men on public transportation. Haughtiness would have been expected.
No, this week, my problem was harmony. I was excessively annoyed. Temperamental.
I’ve wanted to leave fellowship. Let disharmony continue. Live selfishly.
Ironic, isn’t it.
Live in harmony with one another.
It’s all he needed to say — the lack of haughtiness, the associations with the lowly, the lack of conceitedness. These are just outpourings of our harmony.
Monday, April 11, 2011
Living Nobly Against My Will
“Do not repay evil with evil but take thought for what is noble in the sight of all.”
I wanted to postpone this week. I wanted to say that Monday was a free day, that I would start being noble tomorrow — because today I want to take revenge. Today, I want to give someone what she deserves. I want to treat her like she treated me. The cultural rewriting of the Golden Rule.
To live nobly: “showing fine personal qualities or high moral principles and ideals.”
Fine personal qualities.
High moral principles.
Making her experience the same kind of pain she caused me.
Which one of these things does not belong?
Live nobly, universally.
Fine. I will love and respect her, treat her like a sister in Christ and express the way that she has hurt me so that we can be reconciled in truth.
But know that I would rather perpetuate hurt.
So is my fallen humanity.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Discernment
What does assurance feel like?
How do you know your choice is right? Is it a sinking feeling gut that no other decision could be right? Is it an indiscernible voice from above uttering sweet nothings into your ear? Is it just the confidence when reason triumphs over feelings and one's emotional quibbling ends?
Don't ask me. I have no idea.
But I can tell you this: Discernment is always messy in the moment, and clear in hindsight. God is always giving us signs and we are always playing Gideon with the dew, asking for the opposite of what we wanted the first time, and never content with what he gives us.
I wanted to share something I wrote last night on the train (for those who know the story: before I met Roy):
How do you know your choice is right? Is it a sinking feeling gut that no other decision could be right? Is it an indiscernible voice from above uttering sweet nothings into your ear? Is it just the confidence when reason triumphs over feelings and one's emotional quibbling ends?
Don't ask me. I have no idea.
But I can tell you this: Discernment is always messy in the moment, and clear in hindsight. God is always giving us signs and we are always playing Gideon with the dew, asking for the opposite of what we wanted the first time, and never content with what he gives us.
I wanted to share something I wrote last night on the train (for those who know the story: before I met Roy):
God, I get it.
I'm trying but I've got nothing.
I can't make this decision based on logic — it doesn't work.
Mind of Christ?
I have it. I want to use it, but I don't know how.
Mind of Christ?
Let him do the work. Let him decide.
God, where are the signs you supposedly send?
If you're trying to tell me, make it a little more obvious.
I won't play Gideon so don't dampen my carpet.
God, I just don't know.
Do I stay or do I go?
Because when all of my reasoning seems like rationalizing and my feelings are out of control, when the Spirit isn't moving and God isn't speaking, how do I decide?
The irony of it all: this next week I'm teaching on discernment.
As if I have any idea how to do that well.
God, you know what I do not. You have my best plans in mind and I have full confidence that you will aid me in this journey. This unknowing, this uneasiness, is all according to your will. I have faith that you will move mightily even if I miss it, yet again.
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Reciprocal Actions
Two weeks ago: Rejoice with those who rejoice.
This week's theme: Weep with those who weep.
Each is worthy of a blog post on its own accord, but reality steps in and says they get merged.
This Monday, I'm teaching on the importance of community for one's prayer life.
This weekend, I spent a beautiful day and a half with 10 extraordinary women in a somewhat sketchy hotel, sharing life together.
This past week, I stepped back into life with my Moody community, reminding myself of the beautiful joy of friendships and true relational intimacy.
This coming week, I decide what community I want to be a part of — if I stay in Chicago with the people I have grown to love and appreciate from all over the city or if I'm packing my bags and moving to LA, to live in a co-op with a set of diverse Christians who all mean different things by that word.
Community matters.
Why all this nonsense about community (or all this rehashing of my life), well, partly because I'm a verbal processor and partly because I'm realizing the essential nature of community. Without community, without a network of people who you love and care about, life falls apart. It matters who you rejoice with, who you weep with.
The beauty of authentic community is that while you are sometimes by yourself, you are never alone. The beauty is, that each terrifying step of the way, someone else is going through the motions with you, reciprocating your behaviors, assisting your direction, supporting your decisions. The beauty of community is that it reciprocates. It doesn't merely pour into you, but it needs your support as well.
Community is beautiful and I am blessed to be seeped in it.
I don't know where I'm going with this one, but let's throw in Thomas Merton for good measure:
"In Louisville, at the corner of Fourth and Walnut, in the center of the shopping district, I was suddenly overwhelmed with the realization that I loved al those people, that they were mine and I theirs, that we could not be alien to one another even though we were total strangers... It is a glorious destiny to be a member of the human race, though it is a race dedicated to many absurdities and one which makes terrible mistakes: yet, with all of that, God Himself gloried in becoming a member of the human race. A member of the human race! To think that such a commonplace realization should suddenly seem like news that one holds the winning ticket in a cosmic sweepstakes." -- from Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander
This week's theme: Weep with those who weep.
Each is worthy of a blog post on its own accord, but reality steps in and says they get merged.
This Monday, I'm teaching on the importance of community for one's prayer life.
This weekend, I spent a beautiful day and a half with 10 extraordinary women in a somewhat sketchy hotel, sharing life together.
This past week, I stepped back into life with my Moody community, reminding myself of the beautiful joy of friendships and true relational intimacy.
This coming week, I decide what community I want to be a part of — if I stay in Chicago with the people I have grown to love and appreciate from all over the city or if I'm packing my bags and moving to LA, to live in a co-op with a set of diverse Christians who all mean different things by that word.
Community matters.
Why all this nonsense about community (or all this rehashing of my life), well, partly because I'm a verbal processor and partly because I'm realizing the essential nature of community. Without community, without a network of people who you love and care about, life falls apart. It matters who you rejoice with, who you weep with.
The beauty of authentic community is that while you are sometimes by yourself, you are never alone. The beauty is, that each terrifying step of the way, someone else is going through the motions with you, reciprocating your behaviors, assisting your direction, supporting your decisions. The beauty of community is that it reciprocates. It doesn't merely pour into you, but it needs your support as well.
Community is beautiful and I am blessed to be seeped in it.
I don't know where I'm going with this one, but let's throw in Thomas Merton for good measure:
"In Louisville, at the corner of Fourth and Walnut, in the center of the shopping district, I was suddenly overwhelmed with the realization that I loved al those people, that they were mine and I theirs, that we could not be alien to one another even though we were total strangers... It is a glorious destiny to be a member of the human race, though it is a race dedicated to many absurdities and one which makes terrible mistakes: yet, with all of that, God Himself gloried in becoming a member of the human race. A member of the human race! To think that such a commonplace realization should suddenly seem like news that one holds the winning ticket in a cosmic sweepstakes." -- from Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander
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