A Bit on Redemptive Retreats from Exodus 12:31-42 August 15, 2008

Now that the tenth plague has swept through Egypt, there is no hesitation whatsoever about the departure of the Israelites from Egypt.  The fear of death and further destruction has motivated the Egyptians to do everything necessary to speed the release of the Israelites from their country.  They aren’t thinking any longer of the economic benefits of retaining the Israelites, whereas before they argued that they needed the labor for bricks and for gathering hay lest the country’s economy crash.  But now the threat of economic crash means nothing in light of the loss of the oldest of the next generation, the leaders for the future of Egypt have been suddenly taken and the populace’ outlook on their future has been radically altered as well.  The Israelites were also probably just as bewildered at this sudden change of events as the Egyptians; they were accustomed to the abuses of oppression that the sudden freedom to just leave would have been disorienting.  They had to begin to orient themselves to life as free people of God; and to help them along towards this goal, God’s might had prompted the Egyptians to start unloading their gold, silver, and clothing on them in order to motivate them to leave more quickly.

Having lived as slaves for generation upon generation, the Israelites had to learn how to live as free people.  We have this learning curve as well, having become so accustomed to living in a sinful world where we are oppressed and made to serve the will of an evil ruler.  But when we are freed, we have to learn the culture and the manners of God’s kingdom of which we become citizens.  In so many ways, we see the world through the eyes of sin and in terms of the values and priorities of the kingdoms of this world.  We mistake the ‘plunder’ or benefits that we take from the world, in the grace of Yahweh, for a benefit bestowed on us by the world rather than by God himself.  The generosity of the Egyptians in those last days of the Israelites’ time in Egypt was not a reflection on the character of the Egyptians but on the character of Yahweh, who had proven his power and presence before everyone.  We have likewise been pursued; but rather than staking his claim on the firstborn children of every family (both Egyptian and Israelite, remember, though he let the sacrifice of a lamb stand in the stead of the Israelites’ children), he has now made his claim on us by giving his only begotten Son on our behalf.

A Bit on Deliverance, Pt. 5 February 29, 2008

Irrevocable goodness and justice act as Jesus’ tools of coercion. He does not coerce with tools of oppression, but with tools of freedom. We are drawn to him because we were created by and for him. We are compelled to do his will because he has seen and known us in our distress, and delivered us from it. We don’t proclaim any whimpy “Hosanna” then; we resonate the truth, “Blessed is the King of Israel” because he has poured out his blessings upon us by shedding his own blood for us. We don’t sing as those created for the order of the world as it is now, but as those who are redeemed for the world as it is becoming and will one day fully be. And, as the church, we are part of the world’s transformative process. We are the ones Jesus mentions in his answer to Pilate—everyone on the side of truth listens to me. We don’t conform our lives to the hopes and expectations of the world, but to the reality of our King Jesus.

In sum, Jesus’ kingdom is from above. He defeats the cosmic powers of sin, death, and the devil so that earthly powers that rely on them are robbed of their power and authority. Death is no longer ultimate, so those rulers who use it coercively and tyrannically lose their central threat. Starvation and thirst no longer hold ultimate sway, the loss of loved ones, the loss of land, the loss of wealth—by Jesus’ sacrifice, resurrection, and enthronement as King, all these things are unremittingly relegated to this age. As King, Jesus exercises authority over the systems and structures that so often provide earthly kings with their power. When those kings submit themselves to the rule of Jesus, they are able to govern justly and mercifully. When they reject the rule of Jesus, they forfeit their legacy—their evil deeds and murderous pursuits will be reversed at the end of the age. It’s not that Jesus no longer cares if his followers suffer or die; indeed he does, but when there’s no other alternative, Jesus has promised that death is not their end and he has guaranteed that it shall lose all influence whatsoever. Indeed, his death demonstrates the extent and depth of his care for his people. His heavenly rule gives us hope now because he makes it possible for us to live in the confidence of resurrection and complete redemption. When earthly rulers call us to rebel against God, we have the ability to stand in the face of death without fear. This is precisely how the early church stood before the Roman Empire; the rulers had lost the ability to employ the fear of death as a tactic, and the church flourished.

A Bit on Deliverance, Pt. 4 February 28, 2008

In light of Jesus’ power over death, the people are indeed right to sing “Hosanna” and “Blessed is the King of Israel!”  They couldn’t be more justified in their praises, but their vision for their king was too limited.  I think that they are like the people in 1 Samuel 8:19 who assaulted Samuel by saying, “We want a king over us.  Then we will be like all the other nations, with a king to lead us and to go out before us and fight our battles.”  They wanted a king like the nations had, not a king like God had designed for them to have (cf. Deut. 17).  God had always planned to give Israel a king, but he wanted them to have a king whose character was fashioned after his own, not after the characters of the kings of other nations.  Here in John 12, we see that the people’s hopes are fashioned after the kings of the world, not the kings their God desires to appoint for them.  King David had come the closest, but even he capitulated his faithfulness to earthly power structures and tactics when, among other things, he pursued Bathsheba and murdered her husband Uriah.  His son, King Solomon, was even worse.  While wise in many ways, Solomon fashioned his life after the kings of the world, even stopping construction on the temple of God to build his own palace to house the daughter of Egypt!  The Jews were so fixated on the glory of David and Solomon’s days that they missed the heart of God’s intent in giving them a King and Messiah in Jesus.  We cannot blame them, really, since we do the same thing.  Life under David and Solomon was certainly blessed by God in many ways, but now God has sent them one greater than both David and Solomon.  Like the Jews of Jesus’ day, we expect the troubles in our lives to be removed by Jesus immediately.  They were singing “Hosanna” because they thought Jesus was about to topple the thrones of earthly rulers, like we sing “Hosanna” when we think Jesus is about to get us a promotion or provide an extra deduction on our taxes or conform our spouse’s perspective on life to our own.  In both cases, the “Hosanna” is sung too softly because the vision for Jesus’ power is too narrow.  Then we find out that Jesus doesn’t work according to our expectations for life, but according to the reality of his character and our dignity as his people.  We are worth more to him than a toppled throne or a higher pay scale.  He doesn’t just want to defeat the unjust boss or the abusive spouse; he wants to undermine the very power structure within which they operate and rule.  That’s why he would not allow his servants to prevent his arrest.  Jesus doesn’t fight fire with fire, he fights fire with water; he puts conflagrations out altogether instead of driving his enemies away with increased heat.  Again, this is how Jesus is King of kings and Lord of lords.  He doesn’t just rule the rulers, but rules the cosmic powers on which so many rulers stand.  Through his defeat of death, evil and sin, Jesus gives the victims of tyrannical, earthly rulers the opportunity to return to their full stature as humans made in the image of God, returning the dignity they lost on account of the employment of death and evil, and then conforming them after his own image.  At times, he also does this for the rulers who employed death and evil.  In every case, King Jesus exercises power over every vestige of evil, sin, and death in his creation.

A Bit on Deliverance, Pt. 3 February 27, 2008

Because Jesus is driving back death and every vestige of evil, we are grateful that Jesus is a highly political ruler who is able to govern the most common tools of earthly politicians: fear, oppression, torture, violent coercion (both passive and active, passive being the withholding of food and water supplies), and death.  He does not deal in weapons or abuse, but in freedom and love.  But in order that his kingdom might be filled to the brim with those freed from sin, death, and the devil, the full implications of his victory are being gradually yet steadily enacted in all corners of the earth.  In this way, Jesus can answer Pilate, saying: “You are right in saying I am a king.  In fact, for this reason I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth.  Everyone on the side of truth listens to me.”  Jesus came into the world to institute and inaugurate his style of rule, the type of rule that doesn’t just match earthly powers but overcomes their very structures and systems of power.  The Jews living in the Roman Empire didn’t just need a new ruler whom they could call their own; they needed a whole new system of power and rule.  It wouldn’t do for Jesus to go dethrone Pilate and just pick up where Pilate left off, or to go to Rome and remove Tiberius from his throne.  To do that would be to work within the earthly systems of rule and government; but Jesus was establishing a wholly new rule and government.  A rule where the King seeks out fellowship with his people, is willing to give up his position in heaven for intimacy with his subjects, and only re-assumes the throne after he has secured an eternal place in his kingdom for his people by going to the cross.  The structure of God’s kingdom, then, is not built on murder or fear but on self-sacrifice and love.  We lay down our lives for one another, as Christ has done for us.  That’s how this kingdom works.  The system of God’s kingdom does not rely on wielding death effectively, but by removing the sting of death altogether.  If this is indeed the case, as Scripture testifies it is, how could anything but the Pharisees’ fearful remark be true: “Look how the whole world has gone after him!”

A Bit on Church Affiliation February 26, 2008

In light of the recent Pew Forum study, we can see that religious identity is a matter of flux for many Americans.  Living in a rather transient culture where many of us move frequently, change jobs and therefore social circles, are accustomed to our environments adapting to meet our preferences, etc., it’s not a surprise that there’s as much change in our denominations as there are in every other area of our lives.  The question is, how do we steady ourselves?  It’s a comfort to know that Jesus is the wise and powerful Head of his Church, and that he seeks after every sheep that wanders away.  We do not have to be afraid that our culture is going to wash away what Jesus has accomplished and what the Spirit has applied in the Church.  Jesus’ Spirit is actively at work in every branch of his church—yes, even those we may not specifically agree with on all points.  As a result, we can see beauty in the diversity of American Christianity.  Together, the blend of American denominations provides a more holistic image of Jesus’ character and his heart for the world than any of them do individually.  We can be grateful for others as they may transition within denominations (and even rejoice when a beloved brother or sister from our church finds Christian community elsewhere), while also deciding to settle into our own home within the neighborhood.  The concern the study raises is that many Christians may never find a home in any church they are a part of, though they attend regularly.  That’s tragic in light of the sacrifice Jesus made so that we could be united to him, and therefore united to one another.  We are created and redeemed for community, to do this Christian life with one another.  It’s okay that people find homes in denominations different from ours.  But wherever we find our home in the Christian neighborhood, we are to be in our church as family.  We help one another understand the faith better; we walk alongside one another in difficult times; we confront one another when we fall into sin; we pray with and for one another in sickness and in health, in plenty and in want—indeed, until death do us part, if possible.  We are here to be the image of Christ to one another, and to receive love from others who seek to image Christ to us.  When moving from city to city, our church should be the hardest part of our life to part with in the transition.  And it’s only right that we would love one another, that we would lay our lives down for one another—we are the church precisely because Christ has done that for us.

A Bit on Deliverance, Pt. 2 February 26, 2008

In John 18, Jesus says that his kingdom is not from this world—otherwise his servants would prevent his arrest.  Rather, his kingdom is from another place.  His authority comes from a place where he does not have to win power with a sword or slaughter his enemies in order to have the throne.  He realizes that the greatest threat to his rule comes not from Caesar or Augustus or from the chief priests or the Pharisees; rather, the greatest threat to his rule and the well-being of his people are the cosmic forces that have enslaved humanity and distorted the image of God in us.  This is how, as the Son of David even, Jesus supercedes every king that has gone before him.  He does not coerce by imposing the threat of death and evil, oppressive tactics against his enemies or disloyal subjects; instead, he robs those coercive techniques of their permanent influence.  Those who serve him as king have no reason to fear the tactics of earthly kings and rulers.  When we encounter Jesus, then, we encounter the King and Messiah who breaks the expectations of worldly politics—he fights to the death, not just to be remembered with honor but so no other instance of death will hold one of his own in the grave.  He won’t settle to just protect his borders so his people can all die of ‘natural’ causes; our King defeats the greatest of all enemies, taking a top-down approach to our freedom from all kinds of oppression.  He has defeated death, he is driving back evil day by day, and there will be a day when every vestige of revolt and rebellion against God will be absent among us and within us.

A Bit on Deliverance, Pt. 1 February 25, 2008

John 12:12-19 reads,

The next day the great crowd that had come for the Feast heard that Jesus was on his way to Jerusalem. They took palm branches and went out to meet him, shouting,
“Hosanna!”
“Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!”
“Blessed is the King of Israel!” Jesus found a young donkey and sat upon it, as it is written,
“Do not be afraid, O Daughter of Zion;
see, your king is coming,
seated on a donkey’s colt.”

At first his disciples did not understand all this. Only after Jesus was glorified did they realize that these things had been written about him and that they had done these things to him.

Now the crowd that was with him when he called Lazarus from the tomb and raised him from the dead continued to spread the word. Many people, because they had heard that he had given this miraculous sign, went out to meet him. So the Pharisees said to one another, “See, this is getting us nowhere. Look how the whole world has gone after him!”

John 18:33-37 reads:

Pilate then went back inside the palace, summoned Jesus and asked him, “Are you the king of the Jews?”

“Is that your own idea,” Jesus asked, “or did others talk to you about me?”

“Am I a Jew?” Pilate replied. “It was your people and your chief priests who handed you over to me. What is it you have done?”

Jesus said, “My kingdom is not of this world. If it were, my servants would fight to prevent my arrest by the Jews. But now my kingdom is from another place.”

“You are a king, then!” said Pilate.
Jesus answered, “You are right in saying I am a king. In fact, for this reason I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone on the side of truth listens to me.”

In these two passages, we see the gap between Israel’s expectations for the Messiah and the reality of the Messiah presented in Jesus. The Jews had been anticipating a political ruler who would come and displace the thrones of their secular rulers, conquer the Roman armies, and return the temple to the glory days of Solomon. At his point of entry into Jerusalem, Jesus does not avoid these expectations. The Jews had the faith to keep hoping, even if what they were hoping for was a narrow vision of the promises of God to them. When Jesus rides in on a donkey, he is identifying himself as a political ruler. The kings and judges usually rode into the capital city on a donkey, signifying their regal authority. When the king comes into the city seated on a donkey, it usually means he has defeated the enemies and is now processing into the city in triumph. That’s what the Zechariah 9:9 passage that John quotes indicated to the original hearers—the king coming in on a donkey is the king victorious.

From all appearances, it seems that Jesus is exactly what the Jews had been expecting and hoping for. He enters Jerusalem in the symbolic manner that would indicate his imminent ascendancy to the throne there. Even the Pharisees unwittingly recognized how fitting Jesus was for the role of Israel’s Messiah when in verse 19 they grumble that “the whole world has gone after him.” Israel’s king and Messiah was going to be the King of kings and Lord of lords, meaning the foreign nations of the whole world would recognize him as the supreme ruler. But what did the people see that signified him as the ultimate ruler? John tells us in 12:17 that these people who were going out to meet him were doing so because they had seen him raise Lazarus from the dead; it’s not just that Jesus is the ruler of earthly kings and powers, but he has already exercised power and authority over death, over cosmic powers. The King of the Jews would not accede his throne by normal political overthrow; rather, he would win the peoples of the world to himself by defeating the forces of evil and death that enslaved them. This is what the Pharisees don’t understand; this unfathomable attention that Jesus receives is a result of his miracles, such as the raising of Lazarus. What no one, at this point, understands is that Jesus isn’t going to defeat worldly powers through matching steel to steel; rather, he’s going to remove the weapons of fear and oppression that so many abusive, coercive rulers use to maintain their positions of power and authority. By defeating death and evil altogether, by removing the reason to fear death and bodily harm, by undoing the manipulation of evil and sin with goodness and sacrifice, Jesus has undermined every earthly king and ruler who is fashioning their own kingdoms.

A Bit on Reconciliation: Thoughts from Miroslav Volf February 13, 2008

Some quotes from Miroslav Volf, The End of Memory: Remembering Rightly in a Violent World, (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2006), 224-28.

This book is Volf’s personal wrestling with the requirements of forgiveness and reconciliation that come in being Christian. He shares his experience with interrogation in communist Yugoslavia of the early 1980s and processes through what reconciliation is possible here and now, and what reconciliation we can place our hope on in the new world. At the end of the book, he recounts multiple imagined reconciliation attempts with his interrogator, Captain G. These imagined encounters enable him to move towards forgiveness without ever having the opportunity to confront Captain G. again in this life, though he tried to find him. As all of us have been wronged know, we play and replay conversations with the wrongdoer in our minds. Sometimes we are given the opportunity to have that conversation, sometimes we have to settle for the imagination until all things are set right in the new heavens and the new earth. Volf’s failed attempts hit close to home on how those initial imagined encounters go—we say the vengeful thing, we can’t see ourselves as sinners but vilify the offender, we want to make the other person feel our pain. But after laying out some of these scenarios, Volf gets to the point where he’s able to imagine truly offering forgiveness to Captain G. in the presence of God. He ends that conversation this way:

“But you also should understand that what I have done [in forgiving you] is possible only because of God. I don’t mean that God just made my forgiveness happen, like some magical trick. To be frank, I am sometimes angry at God for forgiving you. At those times I ask, What right does the Almighty have to forgive someone for an offense against me? And why should I have to remember the offense against me as an offense forgiven by God? What’s even more unsettling, since my faith teaches that in Christ God has reconciled my offender and me to each other, I have to think of us as already in some sense reconciled. That seems preposterous! But then I remind myself that when you wronged me you sinned most egregiously not against me but against God, and God forgave you of that sin just as God forgave me of my sin. Then remembering your wrongdoing as forgiven by God helps me to forgive it myself. And then remembering our reconciliation by God in Christ helps me to reconcile with you face-to-face.”

After this imagined encounter, Volf shares with a friend about his imagined experiences with Captain G. We don’t all get here quickly, but this is reconciliation motivated by Gospel.

He writes:

I told a friend about the encounters I’d imagined between Captain G. and me and about my labor of reconciliation. She was puzzled.

“Your brand of reconciliation seems cheap to me,” she said.

“Why cheap?” I asked, just to hear her say what I knew was on her mind.

“You’re letting him off the hook! He and the likes of him should have charges pressed against them. Your Captain G. should be punished: You harm others, you pay. It’s that simple. Otherwise you’ll have evildoers growing like weeds.”

“Punishment is too petty, and it doesn’t help that much. I want more. I want Captain G. dead.”

“What?! Where did that come from? You seem to me to want the ultimate punishment for him, not no punishment. I fail to see where reconciliation fits in to that picture! Which is it: death or unconditional forgiveness? Isn’t there some middle ground between the two extremes?”

“No, there isn’t—at least not good middle ground. Those extremes may sound incompatible, but they aren’t. This ‘death’ that I’m talking about is the word the Apostle Paul uses when he speaks of human transformation. He describes it as dying and rising with Christ. I want Captain G. to become a new person—dead to his old self and alive to his new self. I believe that Christ took all of our deserved punishment upon himself when he died on the cross. The only ‘punishment’ left for Captain G. to undergo is this ‘death’ to his old self.”

“And what if he doesn’t want to die?”

“Then we’ll want to make sure that he doesn’t pose a danger to others. What I am against is retribution. It’s incompatible with forgiveness and reconciliation. I am for transformation and, when necessary, containment and discipline, including incarceration. Do you think that’s cheap?”

“He hasn’t paid for what he’s done! Isn’t that cheap?”

“On the contrary—as expensive as it gets. In Christ, God was judged in his place!”

“God certainly comes in handy for you—does all the important work.”

“Would you have me believe that the Source of all that exists and the merciful Guide for all who walk the path of life just sits in a far corner of heaven twiddling the almighty thumbs? Either God exists and is then at the center of everything and affects it all, or God doesn’t exist. It is foolish to believe in a God who does nothing. An idle God is a false god.”

“There are worse ways for God to be false.”

“I agree. But I wouldn’t count on shouldering the sin of the world among the ways of being a false god—and certainly not a cheap form of reconciliation!”

A Bit On Natural Disasters and Human Responsibility February 6, 2008

I was thinking today about natural disasters. Here’re some of my thoughts.  I assume here that the Garden was the pattern for all creation and that Adam and Eve acted as representatives of all humanity.

Created in the image of God, we are responsible for allowing evil to enter creation on account of the fall. Prior to the encounter with the serpent, though, it seems that the charge of God to Adam and Eve would have involved them noticing when foreign and malicious creatures entered the Garden. Well before the serpent ever had a chance to speak, then, Adam and Eve should have expelled him from the Garden (yes, this is somewhat speculative, but I think it makes sense). As the rulers of creation, Adam and Eve should have eliminated any and all threat to the well-being of the growing plot of Paradise they were entrusted with. Instead, when directly confronted with the enemy, they chose to trust him over God.

So where did that get them? God, still honoring their position as rulers of creation, inquires about their sudden need to hide from him. He does not accuse, but elicits a confession (sort of) of their failure. By welcoming and submitting to a malicious outsider, Adam and Eve admitted the worst kind of disaster into their kingdom. Both their dominion and their dynasty were cursed on account of their foolishness; the land would work against Adam in his pursuit of food, and human life would no longer be secure in creation–meaning the life-long task of a mother bearing up her children would be wrought with the possibility of death and other kinds of destruction, such as lack of sufficient food.

The action God takes is in driving them from that place as broken images of their Creator. While he is still the sovereign ruler, never at any point does God go back on the promises he makes or the covenants he cuts. He created Adam and Eve as rulers of creation, and promises that–in the midst of the curse–the seed of the woman will crush the head of the serpent. As the pinnacle of creation, humanity would be the one to drive out the chaos we had invited in. As God makes covenants with Abraham, Moses, and David, we see his commitment to honor the created dignity of humanity. He never bypasses the responsibility he gave humans on their first day of existence. His redemption, in every way, comes through human agency–and fails through human agency as well. And this redemption is not just a redemption of the soul or a cleansing of guilt, but it is the redemption that will make all of creation into a place fit for the dwelling of its Creator, a place where no human life is threatened by the vicissitudes of creation’s self-adjustment (fires, floods, hurricanes, tsunamis, etc.).

Because God chose humanity as his regal representatives on earth, though, he does not overstep our bounds. While his power would permit him to, his character and will would not. God is setting all things right through the very people through whom all things went wrong. We may look at the condition of the world, though, and wonder how anything we could do would ever be able to change things like tsunamis and earthquakes.  Even our best engineers can’t manufacture a way to prevent tectonic shifts thousands of feet below sea level.  How can God’s plan for the redemption of all creation be a good plan, then? We see his commitment to this plan of redemption foremost in the incarnation of the Son.  As the old formula goes, he became what he was not to do what we could not, but he remained what he was so we could become what we are not.  In other words, by being fully man and fully God, Jesus creates the world anew as the King and ruler for which humanity, creation, and the Spirit are still groaning.  He has brought new creation in his resurrection from the dead, but that new creation has not yet been made effective in every nook and cranny of the world.  The promise of redemption invested in his second advent is the banishment of all sin and all evil from creation.

Given that sin is any violation of God’s will for his world and evil is anything that seeks to thwart or prevent wholeness in creation (including the abundant life Jesus promised), this means that the threat of natural disasters on human life and well-being will pass when humanity takes its rightful place as benevolent rulers over creation–primarily in the person of Jesus, the Son of David.  Because God has willed that humanity represent his rule in creation and is not willing to overstep that declaration, he does not undermine us by preventing events that, by virtue of admitting the serpent as an authority in the Garden, we are responsible for admitting into creation.  But he has already taken all the necessary steps to work against the rupture in the order of the world that has made natural disasters a reality, and in his desire that none should perish he will patiently rule earth from heaven until that final day comes when he will claim his throne here among us.

A Bit on Encouragement: An Obtuse, Experiential Observation September 20, 2007

Theology is ethics, and the way we live our lives says more about what we believe than anything else.  I was just talking to a friend today about Plotinus’ philosophy of emanations from the One, and we were commiserating about how it’s impossible to ever interact with his ideas since they’re so abstract and removed from reality.  How can persons ever know about this great, monistic, impersonal One from which we all derive?   But when Augustine draws on Plotinus’ thought, it’s not uncritically done.  Augustine is able to see some value in Plotinus’ philosophy, but the value is only there insofar as Plotinus’ ideas are able to relate to the world we live in.  Augustine sees God as One, but in a way that intersects with our reality–he is one God in three persons.  Moreover, we are not impersonal emanations with ever decreasing levels of pure energy, but we are persons created in the image of the One, true God.  There is no ladder of being to ascend in order to arrive at our point of origin–rather, our very maker comes and dwells with us (Son) and in us (Spirit) so we can know him.

This may seem obtuse, but encouragement requires a similar distinction.  Someone can say a lot of really kind things about you, but if that person doesn’t know you, what’s the point?  Who gives a rip what people think of you if it doesn’t intersect with your actual self, if it isn’t based on your lived life?  Lots of brilliant thinking is hopelessly divorced from reality–this is true both in philosophy (and theology!) and personal opinions.  Who cares what impressions someone may carry of you from afar–distant praise is only good for the echo.  Theology must be lived, and so must meaningful encouragement.  Really, everything that has a chance of mattering has to intersect with matter; matter has to somehow be involved.  Encouragement, philosophy, theology–must all intersect with the persons we’re talking to.

I can think of a few times recently when someone’s comments have powerfully intersected with the reality of my life–for these moments, I’m very grateful.