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.
Wednesday, December 23, 2015
Un-nameable
It seems the more we try to say about God the more do we undo his nature. The more too we try to formulate our belief the less significance it seems to have. The more structured and formal the process, the greater the control over it and the more predictable it becomes, the less there actually is.
Labels:
belief,
contradiction,
control,
God,
naming
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment