A Trio of Tales

Sixteen Seasons

Sometimes we as modern people are quite fond of making a distinction between the head and the heart, between, for example, what goes on at seminary and “what really matters.” We send our young(ish) men off to this small building in west Hamilton where they learn about Dogmatics, and Symbolics, and Hermeneutics, and Poimenics. While those men argue about how far we can go with applying the typological hermeneutic to Scripture, the rest of us get up in the morning and build houses, and milk cows, and mow lawns, and take care of kids. You know, the stuff of real life.

In the first place, sure; there is some truth to that. My son doesn’t need to know how to exegete Tiddler the Fish, and Arenda’s not interested in the final cause of my moustache (which is, of course, contemplative beauty). But if there’s some truth there, it’s also a…

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