The Grand Design...
What can be said of a day? In a universe whose sum is found in an atom, where all is diminutive grandeur made of fantastic, infinite splinters, a day is a single word and at the same time, a million.
Upon missing the lecture and Q&A at Rose Theater, I was compelled to attend Bellevue Baptist in order to grace my ears with the wisdom and insight of one, Ravi Zacharias. He is renowned across the world for his incredible approach to apologetics. A man is rarely found with such a passion for both faith and philosophy, and an opportunity to hear him should not be missed.
This affair must be prefaced with an appropriate setting. Bellevue Baptist is an abomination. Even from the highway, its idolatrous and elitist odor can be smelled. A massive billboard reads, "Bellevue Loves Memphis." I guess that's why they built it in Germantown. Upon entering the east lobby, one's eyes are invocated with food for the hungry, IN THE FORM OF LEATHER FURNITURE. In the central lobby, a visitor might glimpse medical supplies for third worlds, IN THE FORM OF THE LARGEST CRYSTAL CHANDELIER I'VE EVER SEEN. A brisk walk outside the left side of the sanctuary will reveal a museum of Bellevue history and life-size portraits of all of Bellevue's pastors. This "Family of Friends" is nothing more than a pile of spiritually impotent decadence. In spite of all its congregation's furs and diamonds, it suffers from a poverty of faith, hope, and love...
I was raised in a Baptist church. The synapses and neurons are inescapably bound to the images of pews and hymnals. I have eventually come to the point of donning cynicism whenever suits carrying bibles are in view.
Faith, hope, and love came from a different source for me, though. My family, and specifically, my father, showed me God's reflection. My dad educated me directly and indirectly about who God is. Most of it all lies subconsciously in my habits and behaviour, but one thing I do know is that He is extremely tangible and longs for me to know Him. This is too evident to ignore. Anyone who isn't at least aware of these characteristics is laboring under some kind of externality.
What Ravi spoke came hand-in-hand with who I understand Ravi to be. I see in Ravi the same thing I see in my dad. A firm conviction that truth and God resolve each other, and a fervent, sacrificial love for their families. Beneath that, pursuit of knowledge and holiness.
I believe everyone has two of themselves. The first is the eventuality of their surroundings, upbringing, context, and their peers. The second is the person they forge from the fight against each of those afore mentioned elements.
Now I have broached a landmark.
But I can't continue.
Some closest to me doubt my strength.
The ever-present church clouds me with cynicism and reluctance.
God Himself is hidden from me, but He does hear me, and He does know me.
Upon missing the lecture and Q&A at Rose Theater, I was compelled to attend Bellevue Baptist in order to grace my ears with the wisdom and insight of one, Ravi Zacharias. He is renowned across the world for his incredible approach to apologetics. A man is rarely found with such a passion for both faith and philosophy, and an opportunity to hear him should not be missed.
This affair must be prefaced with an appropriate setting. Bellevue Baptist is an abomination. Even from the highway, its idolatrous and elitist odor can be smelled. A massive billboard reads, "Bellevue Loves Memphis." I guess that's why they built it in Germantown. Upon entering the east lobby, one's eyes are invocated with food for the hungry, IN THE FORM OF LEATHER FURNITURE. In the central lobby, a visitor might glimpse medical supplies for third worlds, IN THE FORM OF THE LARGEST CRYSTAL CHANDELIER I'VE EVER SEEN. A brisk walk outside the left side of the sanctuary will reveal a museum of Bellevue history and life-size portraits of all of Bellevue's pastors. This "Family of Friends" is nothing more than a pile of spiritually impotent decadence. In spite of all its congregation's furs and diamonds, it suffers from a poverty of faith, hope, and love...
I was raised in a Baptist church. The synapses and neurons are inescapably bound to the images of pews and hymnals. I have eventually come to the point of donning cynicism whenever suits carrying bibles are in view.
Faith, hope, and love came from a different source for me, though. My family, and specifically, my father, showed me God's reflection. My dad educated me directly and indirectly about who God is. Most of it all lies subconsciously in my habits and behaviour, but one thing I do know is that He is extremely tangible and longs for me to know Him. This is too evident to ignore. Anyone who isn't at least aware of these characteristics is laboring under some kind of externality.
What Ravi spoke came hand-in-hand with who I understand Ravi to be. I see in Ravi the same thing I see in my dad. A firm conviction that truth and God resolve each other, and a fervent, sacrificial love for their families. Beneath that, pursuit of knowledge and holiness.
I believe everyone has two of themselves. The first is the eventuality of their surroundings, upbringing, context, and their peers. The second is the person they forge from the fight against each of those afore mentioned elements.
Now I have broached a landmark.
But I can't continue.
Some closest to me doubt my strength.
The ever-present church clouds me with cynicism and reluctance.
God Himself is hidden from me, but He does hear me, and He does know me.