Chesterton’s town flooded once. The week I read about it, my hometown flooded. “Rain bomb.” The hills in both our hometowns turned into archipelagos. It merely enforced Sabbath on Little Egypt. Chesterton’s line about this — and chasing after one’s hat in a windstorm so others laugh at you — is:
an inconvenience, rightly considered,
is an adventure
an adventure, wrongly considered,
is an inconvenience.
To me, that’s faith. Or a part of it.
Doubting — or Drifting — Thomas comes to Jesus. Says, “I want to go to the place you’re going. Give me the map, the five-star Yelp review, the plane ticket, the destination.” He’s a thrill seeker, Thomas. A pilgrim. Kind of guy who wants to climb Everest and Instagram it.
Jesus says, “Thomas: I’m the way.”
Catholics say that faith’s reason seeking understanding. The Anglican Lewis said it’s believing what reason once accepted as true despite our changing moods.
For me, it’s the magic of the wonder of existence smashed up against historical data arguing for resurrection all sought in these last years when my dad got cancer, my favorite grandpa died after my second favorite grandpa died, and my favorite cousin hung herself.
We ought not be…
…here we are.
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