a hot summer day

I’ve avoided blogging for a while, much to the chagrin of some of my readers. When you don’t remember anything good to write about, it’s just best not to post. Today I remembered a good story however, so it’s time to share.

It was a hot summer day, back in the mid-80s and I was riding my bike up and down the street. Many kids are allowed to ride their bike in the street, however, I was not one of them. I was chastened to the sidewalk, on which I was allowed to ride, as long as I could see my house and was on the same side of the street. I agree, my parents didn’t let me do anything cool, but I was the first child and that usually means you have to experience the extreme boundaries of parents and carve the path for the next kids. Anyway, so there I was riding up and down the street.

Now my street happened to be situated on a small hill. I would pump up it and then coast on the way down. Just to give you an idea of how pathetic we’re talking, I would ride to the far edge of my neighbor’s driveway turn around and coast to two houses down.

It was a hot, extremely hot day and I was burning up. I luckily was wearing my Cincinnati Reds ball cap (go Reds!) which was providing some shade for my head but not a whole lot. I began to get this killer headache. I found that if I would close my eyes, it would somewhat go away. Then I had the idea of a lifetime, I decided to ride down the hill with my eyes closed. I had peddled up the hill with my eyes closed for Pete’s sake! Down the hill I went, picking up speed, more and more as I continued down the street. Then I heard a, “BAM!” which was shortly followed by a weightless feeling as I for an instant began to float off by bike. Was I flying? Was I somehow magically transported to another time and place?!?!?! And then, my face came to rest on its final destination, the neighbor’s car. Now, I knew at this point that I had made a miscalculation. I had forgotten that the neighbor parked their yellow compact car slightly out past the sidewalk.

You can’t really cry when you have made a complete fool out of yourself and no one seems to be around, even if you are seven. I mean, what if someone heard you cry and then came out to see what happened, only to find that you’ve smashed yourself into a parked car?!?!?! I did what any self-respecting seven year old would do, I fled the scene, bike and all and decided I was done riding for the day.

kentucky roadkill, it comes in many flavors, but everyone prefers skunk!

I can't seem to see enough skunks on the side of the road on the way to church. Granted, it is about the only time I leave Wilmore when the light of day is shinning. I gotta say, you would expect to see a possum, or a deer or something, but all that I ever see are skunks and lots of them. I'm not sure if skunks are the only thing wild animals won't eat, and I use the term 'wild animals' loosely, you could include some of the wilder Kentucky folk animals, or even my friend Andi, although I don't think she'd touch roadkill with a ten foot pole much less take it off the side of the road and eat it. One thing I am sure of though, unlike my old home of Dayton, we don't have any squirrels around here. Then again, when I lived in Dayton, I only knew one guy who would dare eat them. I'm thinking that a good friday night adventure would be to drive around and collect roadkill into my buddies pickup and dump a big pile of them somewhere, or maybe that's just gross.

“Bring it” got brought it

I signed up to play the assassin game one or two weeks ago, I can’t remember which, time doesn’t seem to move linearly anymore, it’s more like some morphic oozing wormhole thing. Anyway, I signed up but instead of just writing my name, Ben Douglass, I had to be me, you know a little arrogant, a little spicy, so I put, Ben “Bring it” Douglass down. So from that point forward people who signed up on the sheet in the student center would walk by and say things like, “What’s up ‘Bring it’ Ben Douglass?” I would laugh and we would do the dumb college thing and slap five or hit the rock or something. Well the game commenced on Monday night at 6pm. I survived the night handily and was surviving the morning without much trouble.

Then I went to chapel. The speaker was probably the most untrained and painful to hear speaker I’ve heard in a long time. First, he liked to say things like, “You know” and “Right” more times than he actually filled his talk with meaningful words that make up real sentences. Second, instead of following a logical progression, he just rambled about whatever seemed to be on his mind. Third, he didn’t help us tie his personal experiences or someone’s experiences in depth to a small passage. In fact, he didn’t meditate on a passage of Scripture (a pet-peeve of mine). I’m not talking about reading a chapter, I mean I enjoy it when they really explain a few verses. Wait, I’m way off topic…. So he did have good content, he just didn’t know how to present it, I wish he would have asked someone for help. The content was good in a bad way. He shared with us about how where he works people are being mutilated by their government, how people are being used and destroyed, how vilely sinful the world really is. When you live in a great country like we do, and really it is great compared to the atrocities that are happening across this world, you tend to forget how bad life is elsewhere and how little Christians here are doing anything about it. So I’m walking out of chapel very sober. I forget about the dumb game. Inside I’m just mulling over the pain and the suffering and talking it over with my friend. I’m within five feet of the door I need to get in before I am safe in the game. I’m standing there waiting for the crowds to enter into the next building and then it happens.

Mark, my assassin comes out of the building, I’m not really paying attention to him, and shoots me. Instantly I’m transported back to Lexington, KY. Yeah, I’m playing some dumb game with a whole bunch of people in a peaceful area. It made me frustrated on many levels. I don’t know what I’m suppose to do to help as a guy who feels called to be here, now. My professor said something interesting in the class following lunch, he said, “The ministry of Jesus Christ is directed primarily to the Father, not to the needs of the world.” Very profound. I know God is concerned about his creation, his people, his loved ones. However, our ministry is to be directed primarily to the Father. He’ll point us where we need to go.

I totally missed the point I was going for. Here it is: I got shot. The real first day of the game. Like a sucka, I was taken out. I think it was because I wrote Ben “Bring it” Douglass instead of Ben Douglass. God wins again! One of these days, I'm not going to talk trash. I'll probably be dead... but it'll happen. I said "Bring it", Oh how He brought it.

Assassin

I don’t know if ya’ll have heard of this one, but someone here at seminary obviously had. What you do is grab a whole bunch of your friends, and maybe even a few you don’t know too well, and write down everyone’s name. You make these into cards, and then shuffle them up. Everyone has a mini-squirt gun and will be given a hit list. Over the course of a few days you are to “assassinate” the people on your list. When you make your hit (squirt them with the water gun) then you get their assassination list. Whoever has the most at the end of the set time period, or gets them all, wins.

Our game will start next week. I’ll keep you posted…. It was worth a mid-week update.

a coffee shop experience

Yesterday I went to a concert at the coffee shop on campus (Solomon’s Porch - ATS). When I say I went to the concert, it was more like my buddies and I went to get some coffee and read, when a concert broke out. I don’t know what it is about coffee shops but many times when there’s a white guy with a guitar there solo you can bet he’ll be singing out of key, and this guy was no exception. I think maybe the microphone projects your guitar/voice so loud that somehow they’re just not able to hear themselves. He sang some interesting songs, such as ones by Guns’n’Roses, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Billy Joel, Jimmy Buffet, and a Christmas song about shooting his puppy with rabies in the head. I tried not to listen to all of his terrible (out of key) songs, but sometimes when you know them, you can’t help but pay attention half-heartedly. The song about his puppy with rabies was especially gripping. No matter how much I told myself to read Os Guinness, I found myself listening to the sad song about how he blew his puppies brains out on Christmas. It was pretty much the worst (however, unfortunately funny) song I’ve ever heard someone sing. It was quite obvious that he was a college student. Sorry college students, but you’re immature, and that’s coming from one of the most immature (at times) seminary student east of the Mississippi. Thankfully it will be his last appearance in Wilmore, although he said while at the microphone that he’s done 9 shows, in Michigan, Indiana and here in Kentucky. He does deserve some props for being courageous enough to play 9 shows! The crowd disappeared somewhere soon after the puppy song. I wish I could have taped it. It was the funniest, worst song I’ve heard, bar-none.

takin’ communion

Last Tuesday down here at school they took communion at the chapel. I’ve taken communion many times, so this should be a short story. They broke the bread and talked about the meaning of each of the items. Then they said and I quote, “When you’re ready to receive the communion come forward.” I had spent some time praying before chapel, and I knew I was ready to receive it, so I hopped out of the pew and headed down. Not until I was standing in line did I realize that they were dismissing people by rows. I was sitting in the last row to be dismissed, so when I came forward I had to face everyone who was still waiting to be dismissed to take it. I felt like a genius. This is what happens when you stick a non-Methodist in a Methodist communion service, I mess it all up!

appointment

I had a divine appointment today. The kind you remember far into the future. When working at Orientation, they passed out cards and we were given people to pray for. I prayed for my dude, and then felt compelled to continue praying for him. The next day he arrived and I heard him say his name to a person at the table next to me. I was busy at the time, but I recognized it instantly and then when I was free, I introduced myself. I ran into him multiple times from then till today. Tonight while at the Superbowl party, I felt restless, so I left it and went back to the dorms. Yeah, I know, I took a lot of crap for leaving. When I arrived back at the dorms, I felt like I was to go find him and invite him to the party. I went up to his floor, and found his room without any trouble. I didn’t knock on his door or anything, I just waited. I know it is weird, but I knew he would come out. Sure enough, he came out of his room and I invited him to come to the party. He agreed to come without persuasion. As we were walking over to the party I find out his background a bit. He’s a Baptist, a rarity on a Wesleyan campus. He felt guided by the Holy Spirit to come to ATS. We talked a bit more; it was good to hear where he was coming from. After we arrived, he met up with some guys and I knew I could take off, so I did.

I know it’s a pretty weird story. I guess why I share it is because it was one of those times when you just know what you’re suppose to do. I can’t really explain it any other way. I love ‘em and had to share this latest one. If you’re not convinced, I don’t blame you. You had to be me in the moment to understand probably.

republicans

if the republicans here keep ranting, i may end up a democrat. people here don't get up until 10:30! sick. going to study greek tonight. the fish are doing ok, one died, it was little timmy. i think he choked on the water. hope ya'll are doing well.

leaving dayton

I write this entry on the night before I leave Dayton. Eerily I recall earlier a conversation from earlier today. A friend said to me, “We won’t miss you, but you might miss us.” I haven’t even started packing and yet I’m sad. They say that home is where your heart is. If that’s the case, I can understand why it saddens me so to leave. When you have to move your home, in a weird way you have to move your heart too. We thrive on change, we love new things. Yet, part of us loves the beauty of the way things are. It reminds me of being a kid. I wanted to be just like dad, I had a little plastic lawn mower that shot out bubbles. I would push it all around the yard trying desperately hard to be like him. Still, I enjoyed being a kid and playing in the sandbox for hours, painting with my fingers and playing with our puppy in the backyard. I’ve been saying goodbye to my friends here in Dayton over the course of the weekend. In some of the relationships here, I find that we’ve moved apart. Time has worn the commonalities that held us so close together into a fine thread that now seems stretched. In other relationships, the first pages of our adventures as friends are starting, as a good book that you’ve just finished the intro to. Still, in other relationships it is as though nothing changed at all. Amazingly in these relationships it is as though we’ve never aged.

So I sit at the dinning table and remember the past weeks, the anticipations, the fears, the joys, laughter, sorrows and silences. It is sad in general. I’m going to miss the people I work with, the people I play with, the roommate I fart with. The people I share life with. Then I think about the future at hand. Life doesn’t end at death. For some, their rejection of God will be bitterly more sorrowful than anything experienced on earth. For others, their acceptance of God will bring the abundance even more fully than experienced here. I am trying to cherish the relationships and opportunities I do have here. To savor the life that God has given us. He never asked us to numb ourselves, only to sacrifice that which would take our joy from us. The price has seemed too high for many. They walk away clinging to their rusting skates, buying into the lie, unwilling to trust the only one who can save them from themselves. I too want to cling to my rusty skates, but I know I can’t. I press forward, enjoying that which I was blessed to receive while here. I press forward, knowing full well that loving God must always stay my true wellspring of life. I press forward, finding more of God’s blessing lying ahead. Maybe even my old skates. Maybe even in better condition. Or maybe God will do something completely different. Whatever He should chose, my life is His to use.

Braces

well, i don't have much. honestly, i'm losing the blogging bug. i'm sorry. my latest inspiration is andi's braces....

What rocks my face off about braces:

1) Braces come with a special storage feature that allows you to eat food and store them there in your braces to “eat” later! Mmmmmm… leftovers….

2) Braces increase bad breath which aids in repelling robbers and weird stalkers.

3) 28 rubber bands. Do I need to say anymore?

4) Rap artists each have a few pieces of metal in their mouth. When you put on the braces you’re like your own rap group!

5) Chewing gum becomes an art.

6) If you threaten to bite someone, they are more likely to be intimidated.

7) It is rumored that you can pick up radio stations if you turn just right.

8) You get to carry around thousands of dollars and don’t have to worry about anyone stealing it!

9) Spiting food at friends is fun! Who doesn’t love spitting pizza all over your buddy? Braces let you get away with it.

10) Your mom and dad will love you more.

A Happy New Year

It was New Year Eve of 1994. My family and I had returned from our trip to Grandma & Grandpa’s in Medina, Ohio. Grandma had insisted that we returned home with some of her soon to be world famous cookies. We told her that she didn’t have to send an entire tin of cookies home with us, but secretly we hoped she wouldn’t take us up on it. Back home in Cincinnati, we all were in the habit of eating some of Grandma’s cookies “unannounced”, also known as sneaking cookies. See, we are greedy little Gollum-like beings when it comes to her cookies. Yes, my precious. We won’t share you with the little hobbits. All mine. HmmHmm!

Anyway, we were in business of sneaking them to make sure we ate more than our fair share of the cookies. I was being a master of disguise, I mean even Mirage from G.I. Joe wouldn’t know I was hitting the cookies. I was good. Now New Year’s Eve was near the time of our return from Grandma’s so the tin started almost full. I would sneak two or three at a time, making frequent stops into the kitchen. By around 8pm or so, I was hitting the bottom of the tin. I finished them off with great precision, once again proving to all people that not only could I be a master of disguise and greedier than the little hobbits, but I could also pack’em away.

I started getting hot. I mean really hot. Maybe it was the sugar rush. Maybe it was the sour cream in one of the varieties of cookie balls. Maybe it was the guilt when I got caught eating the last cookie. Maybe I simply ate too much. Whatever it was, I was not feeling very well. I remember sitting on the couch and feeling oh so sick. Then it hit me. I got up and made a B-line for the bathroom. I was moving at a pretty good clip, I was only one turn away from facing the toilet and then it happened. A cookie extravaganza! I mean all your favorite colors and favors made a second appearance. We had reds, greens and browns as well as raspberry, sugar sprinkles, peppermint and chocolate! Wow! If only I had the tin nearby. I did one better though, I missed the toilet and painted wall with a blend of spices that would make anyone’s stomach turn. As the little hobbits, my siblings will tell you, indeed it took the paint off the wall.

Every Christmas I have to hear about this story. It’s like one of my family’s great traditions.

A smooth move

I went swing dancing last night (don't ever call it swinging, I was warned at work today that was something different). I realized my feet don't know what swing dancing is. They were completely confused. I think my right foot kept thinking we were going to do some kind of ballroom dancing, ok it was more like concreted to the floor and my hands kept thinking we were going to either do the robot or do some funky rapper moves. I wore my red shoes, the ladies seemed to like them. They told me so. I met some cool people, ok so they were girls, all except Josh and some dude who wanted to talk about nothing and was able to waste a good 15 minutes I was going to use dancing with the girls... The ladies were very gracious and put up with my terrible ability to swing dance. I do mean terrible. But, I have been practicing. That's where the smooth move comes in. See I was practicing my moves at work in the hallway. I had just done some ‘push the girl’ move and then pulled the door open (imagining that I was actually pulling the girl's hand back towards me). Well, on the other side of the door there was this guy reading a magazine in a chair. I could tell I startled him and I think he thought for a split second he saw me dancing. That is until I pulled a smooth move. I did some kind of John Travolta walk immediately and walked away quickly. So instead of looking like a complete idiot, I looked like a moron trying to walk goofy. But, now you know I was being an idiot and that’s probably better somehow.

Today I also gave my presentation that I've been working on for months now... I was all set to head out to work, the car was all loaded up when I realized I didn't have my badges. I checked my coat (that I was wearing), my car, my room, the kitchen, the living room, the dinning room, and then I got desperate so I checked the garbage, the bathroom, the refrigerator (who knows where I could have put them down), Matt’s pickup, my room again, the kitchen again, the living room again my coat four more times, the spare bedroom, I called work and asked Adam and then Eric if they had seen them (of course not) and then I realized I was in big trouble. Yeah, big trouble. God came through, I moved Matt’s coat on one of the chairs to reveal anther coat that looked just like mine… Huh, wait… It was mine! I was wearing Matt’s coat! That’s why the badges weren’t in the pocket where I left them. I hopped in my car and went to work. I also had to add a slide to my presentation when I got there. I finished adding the slide and then the client walked in for the presentation to start. Now that’s what I call God providing. And yes, I was flipping out in a calm way.

Oh, here is a picture of my shoes, by request for all the ladies out there. Peace.


dead sexy.

Nashville

Howdy ya'll from Nashville, TN. Brown got this pimped out business trip and took Nye and myself down. We're staying in a sweet hotel that has a seperate room with couches, a desk and tv and then of course the bedroom with two twins and the couch folds out to a bed.

Brown had to work today so he gave us the car. I was backing the Blazer in the parking garage when I heard this crunch. I looked in the rear view mirror and saw the back end in a concrete pillar. I parked it and saw a big dent in the bumper. I was buggin out. You know it's not everyday that you beat your buddy's car up.

We (Nick and I) had planned on washing his car and cleaning it up to serve Brown. Then after I knocked his bumper out of wack, all the good we had planned to do for Brown now looked like we were laying it on thick. Brown's car was gross. He had everything from rotting crap on a butterknife to pink scrunchies thrown all over his car. And just for the record, McDonald's french fries don't rot. After we vaccummed it and washed it, we went to the mall. This is going to sound lame, but we got a great deal on some pimped out shoes at the mall and we picked up Brown a pair too, so we all had pimped out shoes.... Yeah, now it really sounds like I was trying to lay it on thick. But I wasn't.... Honest.

We picked up Brown from work when he was done. He shrugged it off when I told him. Obviously, I thought it was odd. Real odd, but I was thankful and was glad to let it go. REAL GLAD. He let me simmer for a while then told me that the dent was already in the bumper. The freakin' dent was already there! Already there! Unbelievable! Now it looks like I was trying to suck up. There's no way to make this look good. Props to Brown, you're a punk.

It's cold outside...

It’s so cold outside penguins are asking if they can stay in the garage. It’s so cold outside Canadian geese have gone south. It’s so cold outside ice cubes are wear sweaters. I mean it is cold.

I have to thank my Bengals for their athleticism this past weekend. Normally they look like they have a chance of winning so I watch at least part of the game. This past weekend however, they lost straight out of the box, proving that we’re the second worst team in the NFL, only outdone by the Browns, and they’re going to have a new coach next year.

I’m sure all the guys out there are still looking to complete their shopping for the holidays. Women tell me it’s because we procrastinate so much. I have a different theory. Men hate shopping. We hate it so much we’ll do just about anything to not do it. By anything, I mean we’ll do anything that’s more entertaining, such as watching tv, playing video games (another form of watching tv), working on our computers (another form of watching something tv like), watching movies (watching tv), and sleeping (yet another form of watching tv). Don’t get me wrong, I think everyone should do things besides watching tv, but in general that’s what most middle class Americans seem to do with their free time. Even I myself on break find that I’m drawn to the picture box. I think it’s a scary thing when people spend so much time looking at a box. What will we think when we’re about to die? Will we be glad that we watched so much? Will we feel that we had no choice in the matter? I understand, sometimes I feel trapped and doomed to watch it somehow. I think in part I’ve become Pavlov’s dog. I think of relaxing and almost immediately watching tv comes to mind. It’s weird but too true for me. Woah, that’s a rant…. anyway, Guys, remember Walgreens is just down the street and if you hurry now it’s probably not busy, but don’t wait until Friday, because then even Kmart will be packed. And remember, we’re forgetting the real meaning of Christmas.

Opera Spirituals?

It's Christmas time again. We all know what that means, lights, Santa and Christmas music. There's good Christmas music and there's bad Christmas music. I happened to come across the later although done well in what they were attempting to do, but it should have never been done. A skinny white guy with long hair and a clump of scraggly hair glued to his chin sang opera. That by itself is odd enough, but to top it off he was singing spirituals like, “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot” but more about how life is hard and the Savior is born. The whole time I wondered why. Were they going for lyrical genius or were they trying to contemporize the song or to bring it to their standard or what? In the end, I decided I’d just fall asleep in the hard pews and wait this one out and hope the next Christmas song would be Handel's Messiah.

In other news, I’m heading to Dayton for the next six weeks to try and scrape a few pennies together to pay for the next session of school. God is faithful.

And lastly in a protest to the school’s horrible furniture in our specific wing of the dorms (and in the other wings for that matter), we switched our dumpy 1970s junk out with the good furniture (complete with lower back support) they’re trying to show off at the entrance to our building. They’ve asked us to move it back around twice, so we did, partly (I'm going to be difficult at least for a while). Sometimes schools don’t make sense. Why put the best furniture where people don’t sit and the bad stuff where you do? I guess it’s good they’ve got an engineer in the wings now (gotta love us punky first year students).

Tres Osas Menor

Time for an experiment in procrastination. Here's what we're going to do, we're going to make a story that spans multiple blogs. I'm going to start a story and pass it off to Andi-mal (without her approval) and see where it goes...

A long time ago, in a galaxy far far away there were three little bears: Arlo, Blade, Mace and the General. Ok, so it was really four little bears, but we're going to call it three little bears because four little bears just isn't catchy. The three little bears were a crack commando unit was sent to prison by a military court for a crime they didn't commit. These bears promptly escaped from a maximum security stockade to the Los Bearas underground. Still wanted by the government, they survive as soldiers of fortune. If a someone has a problem, if no one else can help, and if they can find them, maybe they can hire the B-Team.

Arlo was standing in line at Circle-K buying Jiffy Pop, when the General got the call over the walkie talkie. A young woman was crying. The problem seemed to be epic in proportion, beyond the reaches of the law, it would take the these soliders of fortune to bring resolution. They set up a meeting, 10:30 pm on Tuesday at the Sonic Burger to discuss the details. At 10:35pm they circled Sonic for the last time, checking for goverment agents. They pulled in and met they their woman, Leslie was her name. She thanked them and began..... (click here to continue)

Glorious onion rings.

The onion rings did me in I think. The glorious onion rings brought the war to its demise. Don’t ever think that being kind to your enemies doesn’t have an effect. I avoided José (the cafeteria chef) like the plague in recent days, getting my plates of food, in all their glorious trips, from the other food line. Tuesday I was working on a big paper for my NT class, and the clock on the computer was off by an hour, unknown to me at the time. So I went to the café for lunch and it was all gone. I was too late. Everything had been shut down. I stood there in complete shock. José came up to me and told me he would go get me food from the back. He returned with two brats on a plate covered with onion rings. I ate my rings knowing that it was sad. Our feud was over. It’s weird, I’m not even as hungry as normal, I’m down to two plates of food and a hearty desert. For now. Much like Tom & Jerry can’t stop fighting, I’m sure my appetite will come back and war will begin again. (grins) I will eat all the food! Get in my belly!

arch nemesis

Every superhero has an arch nemesis in their universe. Since my super power is eating more than any human should possibly be able to and still staying skinny, old school style, my nemesis is our cafeteria chef, Jose. Jose like all good chefs worth their weight is a larger man who knows he can cook. He also regulates the consumption of food in our fine dinning facility.

At an ‘all you can eat’ buffet such as Golden Corral, you pay a hefty price to eat until your stomach explodes. At our cafeteria it is a more reasonable four bucks. They are banking on people not eating more than one plate to make a profit. This is where I come in. I eat on average somewhere over two plates of food per meal. When Jose sees me he gives me the worst food he can muster up to present. For instance the most burnt burger in the pan or the burnt tops of the meatloaf that’s floating around. He gives me smaller portions than others on average, which is fine; it helps me get to that third and possibly fourth plate. It’s actually a pleasure to be known in this way. I know he cringes when I go up. Don’t worry Jose. I’ll be back. Monday.

presupposition

Presupposition is the word of the semester. Every class I sit in, every discussion I have with others seems to find itself wrestling with the presuppositions the author or we have towards something. We use it to critique everything from Bultmann to the Pauline epistles. From these presuppositions a new understanding of someone’s stance emerges. For example Bultmann was fighting to make Christianity relevant to his world (deeply set in liberal ideologies) but made some bad presuppositions which kept him from understanding the Bible wholly. (Sidenote: Did anyone else notice that this election was reported to be won by the “evangelicals” in the media? Take note of them singling out “evangelicals” from Christians.)

Let me continue to explain a presupposition that rocks my face off (that’s for you Matt). It was pointed out to me by Dr. Gordon Fee (who wants you to call him Gordon) of Regent College when he was here last week. Paul, John and the author of Hebrews all presuppose that Jesus was present at the creation of the world as God. None of them felt the need to argue that he was present before the incarnational birth! This is amazing to me as the modern 21st century Christian skeptic. Think about all the things that are meticulously explained throughout the NT and then understanding this presupposition in that light gives us a radical slant. It was obvious to them (authors) to such an extent they didn’t feel the need to explain it. They just presupposed it.

I’m about to presuppose me some dinner, you know what I’m sayin’?

the Great Divorce

wow. great book. just finished. highest recommendation.