If the tulip had bloomed any sooner, it would be small, I imagine, or pale. The work of green is the major thing, and what is that work but rest beneath the sun? Sure, cells scoot, bearing the sugars like good news, but the main task is reception.
You cannot say we should receive the sun all at once, instantly develop, nor call the gladiolus inferior for failing to overtake the tulip. Nature wouldn’t like it that way. To bless us is to bid us wait.
The strengths subsequent to dependence and delays reflect the feeding rays, not an egoistic show. This is why they are a sight to behold— both fragile and bold.
A theology professor of mine liked to remind our class that everyone’s a theologian. I don’t think he meant that everyone’s a particularly good theologian or has something significant or meaningful to say. The point was that we should always be on the lookout for how people theologize, how they conceive of God in real life.
You may not find a more popular theologian right now than Macklemore.
He was up in the choir loft, tuning his pipes of the old century’s wind-pump organ; I heard taps and bangs on metal, strange half-throated off- notes, near-notes, puffs, sighs and cough-blasts;
and then he was playing—Bach, Buxtehude, Peters— it was a young Jehovah’s making, a bright hands-full soaring over oceans of soul-light, filling the chill of the chapel with a lush of breathing. Now, in my everyday listening,
for the poem,the music, I am Mary before the ash-soft fall of the messenger, I am John after the disappearance beyond the clouds; I listen to the silence beyond the thuck and thudding of a day’s importance, to hear the hum that figures
a countryside of darkness, the sounds of April whispering over into May, the thunder of apple blossoms dropping from the tree; I listen for the tune that my days make in the works of love, in the notes’ approximations to a symphony.
Help, Mom! There Are Arminians Under My Bed! by the Rev. J. D. Hall is a picture book intended to teach children the Calvinist doctrine of sovereign grace. A reviewer at Amazon by the name of B. Ditto says facetiously: “We bought this for our three boys, Beza, Calvin, and Van Till! . . . The joy they got out of this book made me almost as happy as when little Calvin started quoting the Institutes, little Van Till argued for the existence of God by assuming He existed, and little Beza threw rocks at that Methodist kid in his class! I know that God has predestined them to great things!!!” (amazon.com).