“I know a man in Hell now.” That’s what the Preacher should have said if he were honest. But no one wanted an honest preacher today. Instead he talked of the good parts of the man’s life, how generous, and kind and caring he was, and what a shame it was he died young–all the things everyone wanted to hear. Old women daubed their eyes and a young lady softly whimpered.
The funeral home was unbearably warm, the small room packed. The preacher loosened his neck tie for the third time and talked of heaven and angels, hoping no one noticed the abrupt transition. He didn’t say the man was there, exactly, but he didn’t say he wasn’t there either. Best to let people think he might be.
Review below written in 2012, when I was 17
Reading Francis Schaeffer is like falling out of a fishing boat into the ocean. Both the depth and vastness is overwhelming. It takes but a few pages before you begin floundering and coughing up sea water.
And Mr. Schaeffer’s subject matter, philosophy, is like studying the cellular structure of the vast, deep, sea’s water molecules. It is the ocean itself–culture–that he is studying, but with a stronger magnification glass than most people trouble themselves to pull out. Most are satisfied with the view from the boat and their sweeping observations of the ocean’s surface but with the extra magnification comes a stronger, more comprehensive, more precise, understanding of the whole ocean.
A teaser review (minimal spoilers)
If someone could have told Rosaria Champagne: successful English Professor, vocal gay-advocate, feminist and religious scoffer that in a decade and a half she’d be the wife of a Reformed Presbyterian Pastor and homeschool mom of four cross-ethnic children she would have been the first skeptic of this incredible story.