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.
Friday, February 15, 2013
Faith in What Gets Heard
The disciples at Pentecost spoke their own language. They were responsible for what was said, and how it was presented. They did that. How it was heard depended on the hearer. There was no need for the disciples to do other than tell what they had experienced in the words of that experience, to tell their faith as they believed it. How it was received by those who could receive it was not theirs. They had to trust those who would hear to hear. It was their act of faith to say what they could, trusting it would make sense to someone else's heart.
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