>I know I promised the second part of “Little Lion Man,” but truthfully I’m too tired. Busy weekend, sick kids, etc. Too tired today. Besides I think it needs to stew a little more on the back burner before it’s ready. That, and as a nearly life-long people pleaser, I tend to over-promise and under-deliver. But it is coming. I promise.
Today’s post is brought to you by virtue of the fact that I’m starting my work day by babysitting a PC through some important Windows Updates. Somebody’s gotta do it! 😉 Anyway, I’m calling it a “smorgasbord” because I have a series of unformed, or under-developed, ideas festering in my brain. And like all sores, they have to suppurate at some point. Without further ado, and in no particular order:
Since God is, time is meaningless in reference to Him: there is no “before” Him–He is the before before there was a before. As such, I wonder –eternally existent and all-sufficient in His trinitarian love-fest–why did He make man? He didn’t need to. Though it seems to be in His nature to create. Are we just an object lesson for the angels? (Who seem to have been created before us–which brings me to: if God didn’t need anyone to sing His praises, why create the heavenly host?) Think about it: according to the Scriptures, we get to live out things that “angels long to look into.” Speaking of which, why did God create Lucifer–son of the morning–knowing all the while he would fall, and take a third of all heaven with him? When did this anointed cherub cover in the “garden of God?” I know his sin was pride–as is ours–but why did God go to the trouble? He wasn’t lonely. He didn’t need the praise–didn’t need anyone to affirm Him, boost His ego. He owns His truth; heck, He is Truth Personified. Why is that we–wrecked, broken, backward, halting shells of people that we are–are redeemable from our pride, but His heavenly conductor is not? Why must He rub us in satan’s face? “Do you see my creation? They’re redeemable, but you’re not. So sad for you.” No wonder he hates us: he knows he is beyond redemption. How our very existence must gall him! Wet, mewling hybrid creatures that we are; yet, somehow closer to God. Nearer in likeness and approach. I can’t imagine the sulfurous jealousy that drives old slewfoot on, inexorably, to his ultimate ruination.
If the “rapture” (and there’s plenty of debate about that) is not “pre-trib,” then just which wrath are we saved from?
I am nothing so much as like
A plastic shopping bag:
Seemingly strong, easily rent
Quickly discarded, stuffed in a drawer:
Buffeted, full of nothing but wind
“That’s all, folks!”
See you tomorrow.