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, November 17, 2012
Nothing Personal
They accused him of saying he was king. They would have accused anyone saying such a thing. They were enraged that he had threatened the temple's destruction. They would have had the same rage no matter who made what, to them, seemed a threat. It was less personal a thing than we might think, and it was how they were being faithful to what seemed so essential.
Labels:
faith,
Jesus,
perspective,
scripture
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