On a search for a better world, finding it in the most unlikely places
I love books. They are – by far – my favorite inanimate objects. Amanda and I have four bookshelves in our basement, and we take great joy in hunting through bargain bookstores to find tomes by our favorite authors to add to our collection. Most of my books fall into two categories, “Theology” and “History”, but recently I have been adding a third category: “Poetry”.
The older I get, the more appreciation I seem to have for poets. Among our post-everything ills, one of our greatest must be the dearth of poets. They are, and have been, a courageous lot, daring to dive into the tension of life and loss, love and hate, turmoil and safety; these grand dichotomies that mark the human experience. Subversive, defiant, dauntless describers-and-dividers of what is and has been – and what could and should be. The poets teach us to slow our frenetic attention-deficit-driven lives, to rejoice, to mourn, to drink in the small moments…to look up, and down – to look all around for the world behind the world….
Which brings me back to my books. In light of a recent trip to an amazing used book outlet with in excess of 100,000 volumes, I find that our shelves are in need of re-arranging. In doing so, I think I will place the “Poetry” section next to the theology volumes. Through theology, I attempt to understand that of God which can be comprehended, and through poetry, I apprehend that of God which I may never understand.
Grace and Peace,