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Mildred.”
in demanding the denial of self when there is no selfhood to deny.
Black Like Me, by journalist John Howard Griffin.
One thing becomes clear, though. If this is the Victorious Christian Life—if this is what a person who hasn’t sinned in decades looks like—then I want no part of it.
As G. K. Chesterton put it, “The worst moment for the atheist is when he is really thankful and has nobody to thank.”
Nature teaches me nothing about Incarnation or the Victorious Christian Life. It does, though, awaken my desire to meet whoever is responsible for the monarch butterfly.
Augustine said, “Show me a man in love; I’ll show you a man on the way to God.”
Conversions only make sense from the inside out, to the fellow-converted. To the uninitiated they seem a mystery or a delusion.
In the end, my resurrection of belief had little to do with logic or effort and everything to do with the unfathomable mystery of God.
Someone is there, I realized that winter night in a college dorm room. More, Someone is there who loves me. I felt the light touch of God’s omnipotence, the mere flick
of a divine finger, and it was enough to set my life on a new course.

