My father was a writer. He wrote all of his life, inflicting upon many of us his novels, plays, articles, essays, and self-help books. Some were marvelous; some merely well-intentioned. But of all the things he wrote, his journal is his legacy: by turns wise and bewildering, it neared 1,100 type-written pages when he died in 2010. Although perused many times, this is the first time it will be read - cover to cover, page after page.
Saturday, July 21, 2012
When God Comes
God came to see Adam in the garden. There was a familiarity that is absent from the burning bush where he visited Moses. He came to sit with Abraham, and was a guest. That is lost in the storms over Mout Zion. He had less need of the noise, the formality and spectacle at some times and with some people. For Elijah he was there in gentle breezes, not needing the violent winds that seemed to fit Pentecost. It may not be so, but God seems more present when he comes in quiet.
Labels:
Abraham,
conversation,
God,
interpretations,
scripture
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment