In the time of Elijah there were many prophets, but not all were true. Some said they were. Others thought they were. But only the man of God could prove he'd been sent. He alone among the holy men could proclaim God's word with authenticity, making it actual. Only Elijah could offer more than words.
It is no different now. Real prophets have all but disappeared, even though some of us like to think we have inherited Elijah's mantle, and others of us wish we could. But the proof now as then is in actions beyond the words. By actions I do not mean miracles, since in themselves miracles have little worth. The actions enlivening our words would be giving, sharing, offering. They would include loving, caring, hearing, and sometimes suffering too. The proof is anything making God more than so many facts, idaes and other such things that have no flesh, no blood, no life.
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.
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