"...The surgeon is... a grim man,
impatient with unlabeled brands of inchoate* faith.
In his view, a man should know his craft,
so that a smith should know his forge,
a farmer his plow, and a chaplain his creed.
He has made plain his disregard for me and my ministry.
The first time I preached to the company,
he observed that in his view a sermon that did not dwell on damnation
was scant service to men daily facing death,
and that if he wanted to hear a love poem
he would apply to his wife."
-from March, by Geraldine Brooks;
a book based on the unknown life at war of the father character from my beloved Little Women.
I found this description(-through-counterexample, I suppose)
of faith
provocative and resonant.
Inchoate faith...
faith that is not fully developed, still imperfectly formed.
Doesn't sound so terrible to me.
Lots of room for mystery and grace?
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