Open Daily: 10am - 10pm | Alley door pickup 10am - 7pm 3038 Hennepin Ave Minneapolis, MN
612-822-4611

  • Open Daily: 10am - 10pm
    Alley-side Pickup: 10am - 7pm

    3038 Hennepin Ave Minneapolis, MN
    612-822-4611

Open Daily: 10am - 10pm | Alley-side Pickup: 10am - 7pm
3038 Hennepin Ave Minneapolis, MN
612-822-4611
Meditating On My Faith

Meditating On My Faith

Coughlin, Kelly

Paperback

Religion General

ISBN10: 1716698286
ISBN13: 9781716698286
Publisher: Lulu Pr
Published: Jul 28 2020
Pages: 288
Weight: 0.85
Height: 0.60 Width: 6.00 Depth: 9.00
Language: English
Can God's existence be proven? Is a special pedigree required for the task? It seems we are endowed with sufficient means: Intuition and common sense, reasoning is of course a natural tool, probability a justified rationale, and Imitation a way to verify our theories. But are we speaking the same language, or am i babbling in your ear? What is the meaning of the word god? How do we know something is true? Why do we think God is hidden from us? A Being beyond our being? Or do the Aspects of The Creator appear to us, in a repertoire of traits, envisaging a saintliness we are wise to assume? i've contemplated His Image in Virtue, His Majesty in Love, Grace and Mercy, His Being in existence itself, His Voice echoing in Truth. (Villainy, i found, is a shroud tailored by the will of man, suffering, a patchwork of worldly attachment, and misfortune, alas, is a pattern woven into freedom.) To me there is nothing to prove, about God or His Goodness. (Though I can exhaust your doubts.) For the proof resides in a farce i play-The curtain has not yet fallen-stumbling headlong across life's stage, into past and future scenes, personifying anxiety and despair, then falling into wantonness i tremble, at His Loss. His Immanence so utterly rejected the Emptiness is overwhelming. i pause in the Here and Now, glimpsing for a moment the intended Being of my Impersonation: He says: I AM The King of Kings. Why do you flounce the Jester? The fool is nothing-but a hypocrite, a pest, a poseur! Stitched into my costume, i say, like a piece of tattered cloth, my soul incites mockery, this way, in absence of my troth.

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