As I head into holiday time, I thought it would be good to invite a guest to write my next blog post. So I asked my friend Chatty, aka Chat GPT (an AI program), to imitate my style with a new blog post.
What Is the Good News? Hear ye, hear ye!
One of my own favorite lines I’ve ever written is in my book Champagne for the Soul where I say: “If you don’t know the good news, keep asking and asking until the answer that comes provokes an eruption of joy.”
Of Pencils and Shavers: The Complexity of the Ordinary
I hope I live long enough to see the next generation of electric shavers. Indeed I wonder if there has ever been a new generation of this appliance, since the ones today don’t work much better than the one my dad loaned me for my first shave back in the 1960’s.
TESTING 1-2-3: A Spiritual Sound Check
Life is a great mystery, and we have many questions.
Especially we wonder about evil and suffering.
Why? Why? Why?
These Are the Glory Days: Beginning Eternity Now
Back in the 80’s a favorite worship song of mine—and of just about everyone I knew—was “You Are My Hiding Place” by Michael Ledner.
Tiny Expanses: Small Is Beautiful
While writing a book called The Consolation of the Ordinary, I tried to come up with as many synonyms as possible for ordinary: daily, everyday, mundane, quotidian, common, and so on. Only late in this process did it occur to me that one such synonym is small.
How To Be Free: Let God Be God
If you want to be free, begin by having a God who is free. Let Him be free to do whatever He wants. He’s going to anyway, whether you like it or not, so you might as well give Him your blessing.
Boy and Wagon: A Vision in Spring
I’ll never forget the day I discovered that other people are real. It was 1981, the year I became a Christian, but the event I’m about to describe happened, interestingly, a few months before my conversion.
Easter Dawn: Three Poems for Easter
Three poems celebrating Christ’s Easter victory over death. He is risen! Alleluia!
Good Friday: A Poem by Christina Rossetti
The speaker in Rossetti’s poem feels like a stone for being unable to properly grieve the suffering and death of Christ.