This is the Baymaw podcast with Marty Solomon.

I'm his co-host, Brent, today we are with Reed Dent to talk about the virtue of faith.

Bad theology, a quiz by Scott Cairns, with an epigram here.

And lo, the angel of the Lord came upon upon them and the glory of the lord shone round

about them and they were sore afraid whenever we aver the god is nigh do we imply that he is ever

otherwise when in scripture god's anger is said to be aroused, just how do you take that? If, whether now,

or in the fullness, we stipulate that God is all in all, just where or how would you position

hell? Which is better? To break the law and soothe the wounded neighbor, or to keep the law and cause

the neighbor pain? Do you mean it?

If another sins, what is that to you?

When the sinful suffer publicly, do you find secret comfort in their grief, or will you also weep?

They are surely grieving.

Are you weeping now?

Assuming sin is sin, whose do you condemn? Who is judge?

Who will feed the lambs? The sheep? Who the goats? Who will sell and give? Who will be denied?

Whose image haunts the mirror? And why are you still here? What exactly do you hope to become?

When will you begin? And now for our daily Beakner, on faith. Faith is better understood as a verb than as a noun, as a process, than as a possession. It is on again, off again, rather than once and for all.

Faith is not being sure where you're going, but going anyway. A journey without maps.

Paul Tillick said that doubt isn't the opposite of faith. It's an element of faith.

Almost nothing that makes any real difference can be proved. I can prove the law of gravity by dropping a shoe out the window. I can prove that the world is round if I'm clever at that sort of thing, that the radio works, that light travels faster than sound. I cannot prove that life is better than death or love better than hate. I cannot prove the greatness of the great or the beauty of the beautiful.

I cannot even prove my own free will. Maybe my most heroic act, my truest love, my deepest thought,

are all just subtler versions of what happens when the doctor taps my knee with his little

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