I am on the road, briefly.
My hostess gave me a choice between the room where there is a (thoroughly cleansed) time portal and one where revelation of the Father comes most easily.
Contrarian that I am, I chose the room with the bookshelves.
After setting my suitcase down, I studied the titles to see what I could learn about the husband I had not met yet.
Bonhoeffer, C. S. Lewis, Rushdoony, Kuyper and their ilk announced their presence and weight with the boldness worthy of those luminaries.
I loved the fact that they were unceremoniously rubbing shoulders with “Death by Living,” “Blue Like Jazz” and “The Best in Tent Camping.”
Clearly my host is eclectic and can run the gamut from Chalcedon to Appalachia and has no need to neatly compartmentalize his jumble of intellectual pursuings.
It’s gonna be a good few days.
What I liked most of all was the bookmarks in sundry books. He didn’t finish reading most of them.
A restlessly inquiring mind!
What’s not to like?
Copyright May 2018 by Arthur Burk