My buddy Ryan is getting more into photography.
The passion I know him for is typography. He’s got talent oozing out of his fingertips.
He recently applied type to his photos. Check it out. More here.
I follow a guy on Facebook named John Shore. He’s the kind of believer that accepts homosexuality and poses that hell doesn’t exist.
For the most part, I like his kind of belief. It’s open-istic and inviting … and stuff.
A recent post caught my eye called, “Is hell real? Are you?”
In it, he writes (emphasis mine):
It could be that heaven is awaiting some of us. Or all of us. It could be that hell is waiting for some or all of us. Could be a Dairy Queen awaitin’. Could be a dentist’s office. Could be a six-room igloo. Could be interplanetary pinochle tournament.
No. One. Knows. It’s. Not. Knowable.
And if at this moment you’re inclined to grab your Bible, stop yourself. It’s not in there. You can pretend the Bible tells you what happens to people after they die, but you wouldn’t be fooling even yourself. Paul enjoins us to give up childish things, and you can’t get more childish than pretending the Bible is a magical window that lets you see beyond life.
Great. Hell and heaven are mysteries. There is no way of knowing they exist or not.
So why waste your time wondering? Right?
That’s awesome right?
But then John writes this (emphasis mine):
I think locking the door between this life, and whatever is on the other side of this life, is God’s way of telling us to get our butts back in the museum.
I realize John’s writing a hypothetical statement there. But he refers to the mystery of God again as if he knows God is out there and maybe God is this or that.
What I pull from it is that he “knows” God exists, and maybe there’s some confusion about why he does things. But he knows God is there.
So know it’s unknowable to know there’s a hell, but you know it’s knowable to know there’s an invisible powerhouse out there with a penchant for confusion …
Amazing superpowers you have there, John Shore.
Instead of going to a local drug store or paying to get passport photos needed for the ID, I’m doing them here.
We are gone-sy’s on Sunday for France.
It’s a good thing we have an André the Giant house sitter staying with our evil pitbull while we’re gone. There’s something about having your car stolen that’s very unsettling.
And by unsettling, I mean, holy shit. The insecurity is awful.
Be on the look out for photos posting while we’re gone. I hope they rock.