Poetry

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These truths are mere crumbs that fall from the Master's table, tasty crumbs for sure, but still crumbs.
These are but scraps around the rim of His plate, scrumptious scraps but scraps nonetheless.
One day, though, we will sink our teeth into the full succulence of the wedding feast of The Lamb.

It's no wonder our minds race in so many directions at once, when they touch some hint of omniscience.
Despite how we might feel, we aren't going insane at that point, though we may be temporarily out of our minds. No, we aren't going crazy, but rather we are penetrating at that point a deeper layer of sanity and soundness of mind.... His sound mind, the mind of Christ.

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