I am not a person who notices things. When we rented a house in England for a year, long ago, it took me months to realize there was a house down a lane just fifty yards from our front door. Every Sunday I have to ask John which cars belong to which members of our congregation – and our church is small! (Don’t drive by me and expect me to wave!)
I simply have next to no visual memory.
Which makes it all the more surprising that I do have very vivid mental images – concepts fleshed out. Let me share a few with you:
One) I picture someone, in a few decades, digging up Miss Universe’s? Miss World’s? (Do they still even do that?) body…. I know, I know. This is macabre…. But they say, “Look at that dust! Gorgeous!”
Two) Regular person: “Mr. X has a hundred million dollars invested.”
Three) I have several friends and family members who are devoted to exclusive psalmody. I love them and respect them greatly, to a person. But all I can think of as I assess this issue is God, with his hands over his ears, listening to a hymn and shouting, “Stop! Stop! Don’t mention the name of my son in song!”
And so on.
My son, Tim, has done wonderful charts of ‘visual theology’.
This is my form of the same.