Easter Sunday, this holiest of Christian holidays

First I want to remember my father, born on this day one hundred and two years ago. That is, if he had risen from the dead in the year 1980 the way the Christ Jesus did approximately two thousand years ago, he would BE one hundred and two today. I love you, Dad.

[Today was also the fifth anniversary of Ray Krone's resurrection from prison.]

A learned friend of mine writes me that

People don't like the Bible because...they don't like the responsibilities it places upon us. Or as James puts it:

Therefore, if one knows how to do what is right and yet does not do it, it is a sin for him. [Jas 4:17]

Better not to know it. Better to shoot down the source.

I am glad to be at home today and not perched indecisively on an uncomfortable church pew somewhere. Despite my being utterly dependent on God, and despite my by no means trying to shoot down the revealed word of God but believing that Jesus indeed was God's son, died, and rose again, I am nevertheless free to go my own way—to sin, if that be what it is.

I suspect that God, however, even admires this his creature's exercise of freedom. "I did well in creating Moristotle's freedom. One of my best works," saith God. Amen.

Lookahead to a coming post: I have discovered the original but until-now lost account of a witness to Jesus's utterance of the parable of creation as God's zoological garden. I'm still working on the translation, but as soon as I think I have it rendered accurately enough, I'll report it here.