An old acquaintance of mine recently posted, and then, sadly, deleted said post, on his religious viewpoints. The only point of posting this seemed to be prodding his Judeo-Christian friends to either offense or offensiveness. The views expressed were along the lines of mystic-spirituality and gnosticism. The biggest point seemed to be that God was pure will, and impersonal, and that by ‘right action’ one might attain god-likeness.
My initial reaction was what I think the piece had been calculated to occur, I was disgusted. But the more I thought about it, the more I was saddened. Yes, the belief system is in direct opposition to the Trinity, and that makes it heresy. But, among heresies, what a way to go! You see, the problem with this ideology is that it is boring. There’s no story. There’s no drama. No beauty. It is a futile attempt to avoid the dark and dreary, and so it avoids also the bright and hopeful. By removing oneself from the personal, interesting persons of the Trinity, one binds himself to uninteresting nothingness. But any separation from the Trinity is an adherence to hell. Yes, I think the word boring is one way to describe hell. God is deeply personal, and we are made in His image. In attempting to lose all personality, we lose all God-likeness. Even the deeply wicked understand who God really is before they try to be Him. They, at least, keep things interesting. But then again, perhaps boringness is evil. Because God is deeply interesting, deep uninterestingness is diametrically opposed to God, Who is pure good and truth, which makes boring spiritualism wicked and false.
People must live somewhere. Most live in houses. Most of those houses have walls. Most of those walls need to look good. So I have a job. Yes, I am your friendly, neighborhood drywall guy. I go to work. I sand. I spray. I wonder if we are in a recession. Just another day at the office.
The joy is when I come home, which is why I leave for work. Take tonight for example. While I try to type with one hand around Nathan, who is standing on my lap (at nine weeks), Natalie is giggling almost uncontrollably due to something Patrick MacManus wrote in The Bear In The Attic. We are working at some freezer-burned vanilla icecream, garnished with chocolate chips, while I consider whether or not this would go well with what remains of dinner’s Merlot.
Speaking of dinner, it was fantastic. Natalie put mushrooms on my side of the pizza. (Guys, give your wives earrings, good things happen.) Life’s sweetest pleasures sometimes come in a bunch of small parcels.
It all started with a cup of coffee with her dad. That was a year and seven months ago. Who knew what all would come of it. In the last twelve months Natalie and I have experienced: our first kiss, a car accident, home remodeling, financial ups and downs, livestock successes and failures, lots of good wine, food shared with good friends, and the birth of our first son. It has been a good year, and I look forward to many, many more.