Wednesday, April 3, 2013

Sunday Morning


This poem by Wallace Stevens was not at all what I expected it to be.  When I think of Sunday mornings, I think of having a delightful breakfast with my family and then going to church.  For me, Sunday mornings have always been one of my favorite times of the week.  It makes me sad to think that Stevens probably wouldn't agree. 

Although I can see Steven’s point that death is what makes things beautiful, I would have to disagree.  I think heaven or paradise or eternity is going to be unimaginably beautiful.  Unimaginable is the point I want to make, for perhaps the reason we may be apprehensive about an unchanging place is because it is so foreign to us.  We live in a place where everything changes so what are we to compare heaven with?  Perhaps God intentionally didn’t give us the ability to imagine such a life but I have no doubt that He has created a place for us that will go above and beyond our expectations.  

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