Finkelstein repeatedly suggests that certain parts of Scripture are “clearly legendary” or “tales and legends”. He simply glosses over a very substantial ontological and epistemological claim that he knows certain parts of the narratives are legendary, yet he provides no support or evidence for such claims. It seems that he presupposes the falsity of the claims prior to examining them, likely due to a naturalist presupposition. It makes sense, however, because presupposing naturalism is the best way to rationalize his epistemological leap from withholding judgement to supposing the falsity. However, he had not established this presupposition, so this leap is unwarranted, and requires further discussion concerning the accuracy of naturalistic…
Yes, God’s pruning is usually painful. It often involves us giving up something that we’ve held onto dearly for too long. What He trims out of us – bad habits, bad decisions, poor relationships – opens us up to then be more fruitful for Him.
An anonymous 4th century homily from Holy Saturday says, “Something strange is happening – there is great silence on earth today, a great silence and stillness. The whole earth keeps silence because the King is asleep.” All seemed quiet on the surface, but what about beneath?
Today takes us back to a day when the world was unmade. We are transported to an epoch when chaos reigned over the primordial waters from whence we came. The execution of the Son of God pulls apart the very fabric of reality. It is an absurdity, a cruel joke. Very God from Very God and flesh of our flesh dies. Yet even here, in the ashes of a world that once was beautiful, hope glimmers.
He bends to bring his kingdom here He bends to come near To abide with us
Very often I have not wanted a King to rule over me, nor the type of life that he offers. Very often I have drawn a line in the sand that places me on the side of ‘basically good people’, meanwhile projecting all my own sins on those I consider sinners of a greater degree and deserving of true wrath. I can see myself in the ugliness of that crowd, yelling, “Crucify him!”
We’re on the road with Christ | Dust on our feet | Nothing to eat | Nowhere to lay our heads, no sleep. Coded pattern of speech that the goats can’t breach | Told them slatterns this king brings hope to thee | Us folks will shatter the dreams of these “popes” to be. They’re puppets on a string with no authority. . .
The truth is, well, lots of things. One of the main ones being, I have encountered a lot of pain over the last few years for various reasons. That pain has changed the terrain of my soul. I’m still learning how to navigate the newly carved space from the suffering I’ve walked through – the Man of Sorrows is good company.
Thorns in my flesh Pain in my steps Needles in my heart Lament on my breath Agony in my gut Drags me into a rut Mercy of the Lord don’t seem to be enough. . .
So, here I am, finishing out these last weeks of the current school year, and what I see ahead is... space. While a growing portion of me is holding my breath, awaiting the opportunity for an enormous exhale, there is another part of me that is terrified. Too much open space scares me.