Logic is great stuff. We liked it. We still like it. It is not by chance we were given the power to reason, to examine the evidence of our senses, and to draw conclusions. That is one of man's magnificent attributes. We agnostically inclined would not feel satisfied with a proposal which does not lend itself to reasonable approach and interpretation. Hence we are at pains to tell why we think our present faith is reasonable, why we think it more sane and logical to believe than not to believe, why we say our former thinking was soft and mushy when we threw up our hands in doubt and said, "We don't know." (Alcoholics Anonymous, page 53)
Sam Paisley Richards was a faith healer,
born as Shiloh's guns echoed, as his mother
worried then grieved for her brother
Sam Paisley Ray, and memorialized his death
with Sam. Does it make sense Sam could heal a mule —
by
telephone, no less? No.
Can I argue my own faith
measurable by logic? Reasonable? Nope.
Instead, I horde it, protect it, refuse to describe it
unless you'll understand. Sure, I'm analytical enough
to know I can't discern if you'll accept it, amply practical
to grasp that means it remains interred.
Common sense belies effect of influence
on omnipotence, on omniscience. Sanity says God
was busy with other issues. Even in the Great Depression
with New Deal telephones, the mule would have been
distraction. Still, Sam asked God to heal the mule,
to staunch the blood. And watches on both ends
of the line confirmed God's grace came
at the speed of that sound.
Prayer is not logical,
rational, explainable. Prayer just is. So, is it reasonable
to think great-granddaddy Richards passed the gift
by blood? Did that blood staunch or flow?
