I always enjoy Kim Fabricius’s theological “doodlings” over at Faith and Theology. He’s got a real talent for coming up with short, punchy, provocative statements that are invariably theologically insightful and interesting, and amusing to boot!
Today’s post is well worth a quick visit. Here are a few of my favourites:
I’ve got the attention-span of a mayfly. That’s why I pray: to upgrade to a gnat.
In his memoir Nothing to Be Frightened of, Julian Barnes says, “I don’t believe in God, but I miss him.” Shoot, I believe in God because I miss him.
Hastening and waiting are the two poles of Christian existence. Waiting prevents hastening from becoming hurrying; hastening prevents waiting from becoming loitering.
It has often been observed that Milton’s God in Paradise Lost is insipid, his Satan grand and dynamic. And that, of course, is because it’s much harder to draw enthralling virtuous characters than wicked ones. Compare the main problem that pacifists face: namely, convincing people that nonviolence is more noble and compelling than the inferno of war.
The tragedy of much Christian witness is that the accused seem to think they are the Judge.
The demons recognise Christ when they see him. Which can’t always be said of Christians.
And what would a post of theological doodlings be without a bit of commentary on social media?
If posts are getting longer, that might be because bloggers are spending less time writing them.
What is Facebook but a form of mass electronic cosmetic surgery?
And finally, a few on the life of a minister (one taken from past doodlings):
When I was young, I thought that one day I would grow up. Yeah, and when I was a young minister, I thought that one day I would know what I was doing.
Any preacher who doesn’t think he’s a fraud is—a fraud.
See the rest of Kim’s most recent doodlings here.
One cannot help but appreciate the wit that the cynic, the skeptic, the noter of what seems patently absurd, brings to the conversation. And yet to remain so inclined, seems contrary to spiritual growth.
If one day, my observations and affinity for the good do not dwarf my witticisms regarding what isn’t, somebody has dropped the ball.
The comment that jumped out at me is “Any preacher who doesn’t think he’s a fraud is—a fraud.” As a preacher I think I get what he is trying to say [remember we are broken vessels?] but I would say that a preacher who thinks he is a fraud should stop immediately because if he keeps preaching from that conviction- he truly is a fraud. It is one thing to be deluded another to be a liar.
Of course critiquing a wit is put myself in the ignoble company those who take great pleasure in critiquing the theology of songs and poetry 🙂
Yeah, I had mixed feelings toward that one, too… I think I understand what he’s getting at—there is something about the nature of the mysteries with which we work and which we attempt to explain that ought to make us circumspect about our own statements. Or at least lead us to maintain some distance between “I say” and “God says.” But to knowingly and deliberately traffic in deception is inexcusable, of course.
I guess I am interpreting Mr. Fabricius charitably (and poetically) here. Perhaps too charitably… :).