From the chair:
13 These all died in faith, not having received the things promised, but having seen them and greeted them from afar, and having acknowledged that they were strangers and exiles on the earth. 14 For people who speak thus make it clear that they are seeking a homeland. 15 If they had been thinking of that land from which they had gone out, they would have had opportunity to return. 16 But as it is, they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared for them a city.
I have a heavy heart today. I’m sad for the victims of terrorism around the world. I’m sad about the discourse about terrorism around the world: The constant clamoring to be the most informed, most bold, most pluralistic, most sure, most stoic, most sad, most right, most left, most confused. I confess, I am failing at being the most anything, even the most whatever-this-sentence-is-trying-to-be. If there’s a “who can best respond to terrorism” game being played, I confess that I’m not winning it.
I still trust in the promises of God; I am still waiting for something so much better than this.
“You know I know there are all sorts in all religions; good men in bad ones and bad men in good ones.”
-Father Brown, “The Dagger with Wings” by G.K. Chesterton in The Complete Father Brown Stories
Despite all the talk to the contrary, it is not hateful to believe that there are such things as good and bad people, good and bad religions, nor is it relativistic to suggest that they’re oddly intertwined.
“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.