First, some Brigham Young University news:
A somewhat older article:
Also from BYU:
On a recent small BYU-related controversy:
And now for some non-BYU news:
It’s not yet an actual design, but it’s good to know something about the new building:
Some recent developments in the Heartland — or, if you will, in Neville-Neville Land:
But don’t imagine that the unfortunate John Dehlin has received a free pass for his manifold errors:
It’s about time, say I. My thanks to the anonymous folks who have taken it in hand to call attention to Dehlin’s mistakes and misrepresentation. I don’t know who they are, but I admire their work thus far.
On the broader front:
The hackneyed old question “Can God make a rock so heavy that he can’t lift it?” has been around for a very long time, of course.
Since at least the time, eons ago, when I was in high school.
The first time that I encountered it, though, it was formulated in a rather different way, but with the same general intent and meaning:
“What happens,” an atheistic classmate of mine asked me once in the cafeteria during our lunch break, “when the irresistible force meets the immovable object?”
His “irresistible force” was obviously a stand-in for God, and his “immovable object” was the legendary rock that is too heavy to lift.
So what does happen, when the irresistible force meets the immovable object?
I experienced a moment of inspiration:
“The indescribable event,” I replied.
I still consider it a fairly good answer. Certainly on a high school level.
I rank it right up there with another one that I was once privileged to deliver:
I had left my coat in a long narrow seminar room, with a long and narrow seminar table, at UCLA. I could see it through the window in the door. A professor whom I didn’t know was holding forth at my end of the table, near the door, to a group of students in another seminar — and my coat was on the chair at the table’s opposite end.
I didn’t want to interrupt the seminar, but I also didn’t want to leave my coat. I figured that this new seminar might be, like mine, three hours long. And it was a cold and rainy day. I paced back and forth for a while, but I finally determined to go for my coat.
I opened the door, said “Excuse me, I left my coat,” and went to the distant chair. Having retrieved my coat, I passed the professor, who was glaring with quite surprising irritation and even anger at me for forcing him to pause in his eloquence.
“Oh. My. God,” he said, very coldly.
“No,” I responded. “I’m just a graduate student.”
And I quietly closed the door behind me as I went out.
I felt pretty good about that one, too.