Augustine has an amazing talent at whacking the perennial questions. His talk about God’s creation and incarnation (Confessions XI.5), sending His Son, reminds me of the “universe as a novel” theodicy, the one that says you can’t blame God for not dealing with evil because all things have not been concluded yet, as if it’s not the end of the novel.
Many Christian novels are dorky. It occurs to me that the history of the universe, whatever else it may be, is not dorky, particularly Christianity. As a potential novelist, I hereby take note.
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