On Theology
Think of a subject that you have some expertise in. Say, math. Now think of that person who, while perfectly intelligent, does not know your subject well, and wants to tell you something about it anyway. Like the person who is raving about Gödel's incompleteness theorem and how it proves we don't really know anything. Now think about the way they say lots of things that, well, they aren't exactly wrong so much as upside-down--the implications of technical turns of phrase seem disproportionately dire to them; the words are right, but they're attached to all these funny concepts, and those concepts are attached to each other in impenetrable contortions, so you don't even know where to begin setting things straight. Instead (because after all, they weren't really wrong in the first place) you smile and say, that's right, that's how it is, isn't that interesting.
Surely that's how we must sound to God, all the time?
(Which is not to say that's any excuse to stop trying.)
Surely that's how we must sound to God, all the time?
(Which is not to say that's any excuse to stop trying.)