From the chair:
“12 He said also to the man who had invited him, ‘When you give a dinner or a banquet, do not invite your friends or your brothers or your relatives or rich neighbors, lest they also invite you in return and you be repaid. 13 But when you give a feast, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind, 14 and you will be blessed, because they cannot repay you. For you will be repaid at the resurrection of the just.'”
A few weeks ago, we were up in Boston, visiting friends and our old congregation, and the pastor said something to the effect of: If you’re looking for friends, stop looking for friends; look for people you can love. At the time, I was feeling a bit sorry for myself, thinking, We’re totally new and I’m not even sure how to love. This morning, this verse reminded me that I can’t stay there. Perhaps being new in this area gives me rare social freedom to try to be more faithful to this direction from Jesus than I have been in the past.
From the desk:
“If there exists a reality independent of us—so that its existence is prior to our recognition or acceptance of that reality—then we are obligated to respond to that reality, offering as best an account of it as we can. While fully conceding that theological formulations are incapable of capturing the fullness of the divine realities, such an approach to theology will insist that there are such divine realities, and that a scientific theology represents a principled attempt to describe and comprehend them under the limiting conditions that are imposed upon humanity by virtue of our created character and fallen nature.”
-Alister McGrath, A Scientific Theology, vol. 2: Reality, 2003 ed., pp.228-229
As theologians, I believe that the God who created us and our world presses an ethical responsibility on us: Not just to suppose for the sake of supposing, but to think earnestly after truth. McGrath’s chapter on critical realism made this point better than I could, and it refreshed my spirit as I head into the final stretch of my first semester! Soli Deo gloria
“The chair” is the one Annie aptly chose for the corner of our living room, and it’s where I am committed to daily hearing from God’s Word–the Word I above all else hope to speak to others. “The desk” is the one by my coffee grounds and spare charger (if I get to the library early enough); it’s where I have the privilege of reading and thinking all day, where I intend to learn for others’ sake.