Let me bring some of our tools (you know, all that good stuff we’ve said so long ago) to bear on this small portion as an example of my unifying principle at work.
Nervous because it looks like the page is getting hacked and in the hopes of making sure I keep these excellent links, I am backing up Joe Carter’s Jesus the Logician project here at the Bible Archive. Mind you this is not the repository for said articles. If you have new submissions you can send them to Joe Carter. It was sparked by Dallas Willard’s article here (with a pdf here). The abstract from said article is as follows with the backup of Joe Carter’s collection from the blogosphere after the jump:
ABSTRACT: In understanding how discipleship to Jesus Christ works, a major issue is how he automatically presents himself to our minds. It is characteristic of most 20th century Christians that he does not automatically come to mind as one of great intellectual power: as Lord of universities and research institutes, of the creative disciplines and scholarship. The Gospel accounts of how he actually worked, however, challenge this intellectually marginal image of him and help us to see him at home in the best of academic and scholarly settings of today, where many of us are called to be his apprentices.
As a reader you are like a person on vacation. You can visit anywhere in the world but no matter where you go you will, by the nature of being you, bring your luggage. You’re luggage contains many things you find important (like your best shoes) but also things that you automatically assumed must come on your trip (like underwear). Even though you know most people won’t see some of those later things (the underwear) you assumed that they would go on the trip with you. On vacation you also properly assume other people have that same information. No one in the civilized world goes around thinking "Maybe that person isn’t wearing underwear". Or at least we hope.
It’s morning, it’s early and it’s Christmas. Vanilla and ginger still adorns the air after a week of Mom’s baking. You step onto the floor that shivers with winter and snuggle into your cozy slippers before hurrying out of your room, down the hallway and into the living room where your family’s Christmas tree stands. Beneath it in brilliant bursts of gold and red and green with dashes of blue and flashes of white are wrapped presents—some of them for you, some for your siblings.
Words are useless.
That’s strange in light of the last post where I waxed poetic about how special they were (are). To now enter this post and rendering those same words useless might make you stop reading. Bear with me and grant me the benefit of the doubt: I must be making some sort of distinction.