I suspect from his general attitude to God and the Bible that Steve Borthwick is probably a Methodist. How else could I explain such latitudinarianism and irreverence? However when I read Eileen's appalling and godless drivel on the speed of light, I thought it was best to check Steve's recommendations on the way the Speed of Light has changed. And so I have done some research.
Having read up thoroughly on the subject, I can now approve with all my heart of the whole theory. To be honest I did not actually understand a word, and trying to comprehend the impact on the total energy of the universe if the Speed of Light halved gave me a nose-bleed. But that is unimportant. What causes my heart to hop, like unto the hills of Psalm 113, is that my failure to understand any of the concepts means that I have to trust to faith alone.
So I thank the people who have explained the Speed of Light changes that prove the Universe is six thousand years old. They have confirmed it scientifically, and yet increased my faith at the same time. Whoso saith that science and religion are in conflict, they have not examined the evidence.
Showing posts with label Creation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Creation. Show all posts
Thursday, 20 October 2011
Tuesday, 19 July 2011
Set the controls for the heart of the dimness
In desperation while Drayton Parslow is boycotting the modern world, Marjory asked if she could come round and watch the telly with me. No worries, except Drayton turned up as well. It would appear that using electricity is fine, as long as it's on my bill.
We were watching Richard Hammond's Journey to the Centre of the Planet. Quite a fun little science programme, albeit with the totally unnecessary addition of Hammond's name to the front of the title and a certain amount of Top Gear macho-ism by anthropoid geologists scooping lava out of the mouths of volcanoes.
And we were watching the CGI effects of the earth folding as tectonic plates collided, pushing the mountains up. And Drayton watched open-mouthed with awe at this evidence of the wonder of Creation.
"Marvellous," he said. And do you know, I really thought he'd got it. I thought he'd understood something of the way the world was made, over aeons of geological time.
"To think," he said, "that all that happened in just 6 days. It really makes you wonder, doesn't it?"
I rang to have him removed from my presence, of course, but before Ardwulf could get up to my suite Marjory had already chased him out the building. It must be so embarrassing having him around, sometimes.
We were watching Richard Hammond's Journey to the Centre of the Planet. Quite a fun little science programme, albeit with the totally unnecessary addition of Hammond's name to the front of the title and a certain amount of Top Gear macho-ism by anthropoid geologists scooping lava out of the mouths of volcanoes.
And we were watching the CGI effects of the earth folding as tectonic plates collided, pushing the mountains up. And Drayton watched open-mouthed with awe at this evidence of the wonder of Creation.
"Marvellous," he said. And do you know, I really thought he'd got it. I thought he'd understood something of the way the world was made, over aeons of geological time.
"To think," he said, "that all that happened in just 6 days. It really makes you wonder, doesn't it?"
I rang to have him removed from my presence, of course, but before Ardwulf could get up to my suite Marjory had already chased him out the building. It must be so embarrassing having him around, sometimes.
Monday, 4 October 2010
St Francis of the Bunnies Day
Pets controllers
And so the traditional carnage that is our Pets Blessing Day comes to its usual, predictable, terrifying end. Our annual return to visual jokes that were last seen on the Vicar of Dibley.
Needless to say Rodrikc's stick insects escaped, which at least provided some entertainment for Young Keith's monitor lizard. That was before it slipped its lead and went off to start eating some of the Lickle Bunnies of St Francis that Aelwife had brought along.
Mrs Hnaef's new mongrel, "Lennox", had some fun as well. Although, when she noticed that her pedigree Great Dane bitch had received some - hem hem - loving attention form Lennox, Mrs Roseby was less than amused. Daphne claimed that Lennox was more to be congratulated on his ambition than scolded for his lust. After all, being half Jack Russell he only has little stumpy legs. Yet somehow mention of the words "Jack Russell" just made Mrs Roseby even angrier.
And then there was Oskar's new pet. We've been really pleased to have Oskar with us - he having joined almost immediately after we re-opened. But who in their right mind keeps an eight foot alligator as a pet? I thought it was odd how the muntjac deer kept disappearing in the night. And there was no way I was blessing that. Oskar's been told the alligator's not living in the pond any more. He's to hand Harriet over into the keeping of any zoo that will have it - or at least leave her quietly in the reptile house. Mind you, he was last seen trying to wrestle her into the back of his VW Polo, so if he asks anyone to lend him a hand - bear in mind that may be literal.
Go and do thou likewise
The second part of the celebration was that where, every year, we go all serious and think about the demands of St Francis himself.
Apart from his habit - ho ho - of walking around with budgies on his shoulder and ickle wabbits gambwing awound his unshod feet, Fwancis - sorry, Francis - was seriously into giving money to the poor and needy. In fact his friars were prepared to give away all their worldly possessions for the sake of their souls. Every year I encourage the Beaker Folk to do likewise, in aid of the Society for the Preservation of Archdruids. And every year the response is less than encouraging. This year was a record - I managed to hit twelve people with my cricket bat before they escaped from the Moot House - but still we only raised a pittance.
And so the traditional carnage that is our Pets Blessing Day comes to its usual, predictable, terrifying end. Our annual return to visual jokes that were last seen on the Vicar of Dibley.
Needless to say Rodrikc's stick insects escaped, which at least provided some entertainment for Young Keith's monitor lizard. That was before it slipped its lead and went off to start eating some of the Lickle Bunnies of St Francis that Aelwife had brought along.
Mrs Hnaef's new mongrel, "Lennox", had some fun as well. Although, when she noticed that her pedigree Great Dane bitch had received some - hem hem - loving attention form Lennox, Mrs Roseby was less than amused. Daphne claimed that Lennox was more to be congratulated on his ambition than scolded for his lust. After all, being half Jack Russell he only has little stumpy legs. Yet somehow mention of the words "Jack Russell" just made Mrs Roseby even angrier.
And then there was Oskar's new pet. We've been really pleased to have Oskar with us - he having joined almost immediately after we re-opened. But who in their right mind keeps an eight foot alligator as a pet? I thought it was odd how the muntjac deer kept disappearing in the night. And there was no way I was blessing that. Oskar's been told the alligator's not living in the pond any more. He's to hand Harriet over into the keeping of any zoo that will have it - or at least leave her quietly in the reptile house. Mind you, he was last seen trying to wrestle her into the back of his VW Polo, so if he asks anyone to lend him a hand - bear in mind that may be literal.
Go and do thou likewise
The second part of the celebration was that where, every year, we go all serious and think about the demands of St Francis himself.
Apart from his habit - ho ho - of walking around with budgies on his shoulder and ickle wabbits gambwing awound his unshod feet, Fwancis - sorry, Francis - was seriously into giving money to the poor and needy. In fact his friars were prepared to give away all their worldly possessions for the sake of their souls. Every year I encourage the Beaker Folk to do likewise, in aid of the Society for the Preservation of Archdruids. And every year the response is less than encouraging. This year was a record - I managed to hit twelve people with my cricket bat before they escaped from the Moot House - but still we only raised a pittance.
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