This Is Not To Say That Joy

Characters More Or Less Present Themselves To Me. I Don't Know Their Origins. I Think If I Did, If I Seemed To Myself To Fabricate Them, I Could Not Induce Suspension Of Disbelief In Myself In The Way Writing Fiction Requires.

Families Will Not Be Broken. Curse And Expel Them, Send Their Children Wandering, Drown Them In Floods And Fires, And Old Women Will Make Songs Of All These Sorrows And Sit On The Porch And Sing Them On Mild Evenings.

Protestantism, Of Course, Is Much More Explicitly Divided Into Different Traditions - The Pentecostals, The Anglicans. But There Is The Main Tradition Of Protestantism That Comes Out Of The Reformation And That Produced People Like Kant And Hegel And So On, Who Are Not Normally Thought Of As Being People Writing In A Theological Tradition, Although Hegel, Of Course, Wrote Theology His Whole Life.

Sometimes My Doubt Seems Intuitive, But Most Likely It Derives From An Implausibility Or A Logical Problem I May At First Find Difficult To Identify And Articulate. It Is Interesting To Me To Work Through Questions That Arise In This Way.

That Is How Life Goes--we Send Our Children Into The Wilderness. Some Of Them On The Day They Are Born, It Seems, For All The Help We Can Give Them. Some Of Them Seem To Be A Kind Of Wilderness Unto Themselves. But There Must Be Angels There, Too, And Springs Of Water. Even That Wilderness, The Very Habitation Of Jackals, Is The Lord's.