The trials of inventing a religion

I was re-watching The Invention of Lying today and remembered this scene. I think instinctively many Christians would find this scene offensive, but it has nothing to say against Christianity, rather it sums up in a nutshell the minefield of making up a code for life without God’s true word at its heart. It also highlights to me the essential and only question that needs to be answered when confronted by any religion/opinion/claim: “is it true?”

(Excuse the strong language around the four and a half minute mark.)

I got a new phone

This is me testing out whether posting on my new phone works. Thank you for your time. How exciting.

A man of measures

A man of measures I am,

A man of measures.

No pleasures or treasures are mine to feast,

Just measure my measures and see me police:

Not falling to extremes.

I follow examples and hold back horsey tears,

For I am a man of measures.

A man of measures I am,

A man of measures.

A functioning example.

If tempers kept and hampers kempt,

Or fevers starved with virgin hemp,

My manly measures here here,

A man of measure here here.

A man of measures I am,

A man of measures.

Not dwindling years or wasting years,

I fall to clasp the china cups and crystal ornaments.

I measure gulps in tunnel vision,

And guzzle procrasts.

I measure men to measure them,

A man of measures I am.

A man of measures I am,

A man of measures.

In publicizing glee,

I freeze the zones of open goals,

And ask for grumpy Harlem.

I drizzle open scabby gapes,

And beg of peanut fritters,

But never eat of it to eat,

And never beat a seat a feat.,

To treat a handbag like a meat,

Or heat that silver on a spoon the spoon is melting ‘fore the swoon.

A man of measures I am,

A man of measures.

When.

When your very first spoonful of coco pops of the day has a cat hair in it.

When you decide you’d like to buy a Kindle spontaneously from Tesco, but know you probably won’t.

When you think you’ll chance it at the box office for a 1:30 matinee.

When Romans 7 is better than you remember it being.

When you’re still reeling from last night’s glorious victory against your wife in Guess Who (which is actually called “Who’s Who” in our house, great Christmas present from cousin Victoria).

When you can’t wait to eat that satsuma.

When you’re praying that to do list will get do’d.

When your last spoonful of coco pops also has a cat hair in it.

You know it’s time to start blogging again*

 

 

 

 

 

*or just keep the felines away from the cereal.