Not my own but very helpful and thought provoking…. See the end for credit….
You think you know someone, but of course you don’t know them too. What might you not know about Jesus of Nazareth?
It is not the gift- and skill-sets – the intelligence and imagination, the range of reading, the elegance and wit – that separate the great theologian from the good one. The difference lies not in the brilliance but the defects. It takes a magnificent flaw to make a great theologian.
The best that I can say about me is that I am a placeholder for what I will become.
I may or may not be a “real Christian”, but a Christian who tells me I’m not is definitely not.
Why do I write – doodlings, propositions, sermons, hymns, whatever? Answer: authorial itch. Of course scratching only makes the pruritus worse, and can lead to all kinds of existential and spiritual lesions.
Information is power. Alas, so too is misinformation.
“What do people think of me?” The question is both begged and vain: very few people bother to think about me at all. Why would they?
Contemporary evangelism markets soteriological outcomes, contemporary spirituality deracinates and commodifies monastic techniques, and contemporary worship trades on relevance and coolness, self-expression and authenticity. Thus the Westminster Shorter Catechism (revised): Q: What is the chief end of man? A: Man’s chief end is to utilise God and exploit him forever.
Deep inside every human being is a scumbag struggling to stay hidden. Bear that in mind if you sign up for a “journey of self-discovery”.
The unreasonable person is dangerous; the reasonable person more dangerous still.
The certainty is that there is always a calamity coming; the tragedy is that it is never the one we expect.
There once was a preacher with attitude,
whose sermons weren’t greeted with gratitude;
he preached the beJesus
too gracious and grievous
for people inspired by platitudes.
Losing your faith is part of the pilgrimage of faith.
And finally, for now…….
Until you’re about 5, you’re smart. Then gradually you get stupid. At 20, you’re real stupid, and you remain real stupid until you’re about 30. Then over the next decades, I’m afraid, you stay stupid, more or less. The less stupid we call sages or saints, the more stupid we call flipping idiots. Then you die. Then you meet the Lord: “Welcome home, stupid.”
These few thoughts are by Kim Fabricius (1948-2018) over at Faith and Theology