One of the myriad afflictions of coming from a modern--or postmodern for that matter--society is that we too often don't know how to simply contemplate something we don't completely understand. We might try and put things into a ten (or 12) step "how to" program, or we might give up altogether, but we seem to have lost the ability to simply meditate on these things.
Some examples? You betcha. What about the mystery of a wife--or husband, whichever is appropriate? Solomon notes it as a mystery in Proverbs, but we're happy to distill it down into a Myers-Briggs test, couch time, and a weekly date away from the kids. Postmoderns might add a little dose of changing the ground rules that Scriptures sets up for wedlock, I'd guess. In either case, we simply don't spend the time meditating that our forefathers used to.
Others? Well, what about the mystery of why Cain's offering wasn't accepted, or how it is that God so loved us that He gave His only Son for us?
I would submit that these things are not to be understood completely, but rather simply...appreciated.
ANZAC day poems. - Three poems, not in the usual order, for the service, and not from the service. Anzac Dawn service is tomorrow: I ndo not attend what has become a pagan da...
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