Me, As A Modelist & As A Husband

Tuesday at breakfast my friend Wes and I discussed the trinity. Wes accused me of modelism (I think that’s the word he used, can’t say I’ve ever heard it before. I think it’s a philosophical term).

Viewing my youngest son’s Sunday video sparked this conversation. Donald, with his cats, had talked about the trinity and Wes seemed pleased that he avoided modelism in his video.

Apparently modelism is a way of thinking about the trinity as showing three aspects of one being. Thus, I am one me, but I am husband to my wife, father to my kids, and son to my parents. Or, I sometimes think of the trinity (should that word be capitalized?) as ice, water and steam—a solid, liquid and a gas but all the same substance. Or, I try to imagine a diamond with three sparkling facets.

Wes says I limit God by such modelistic thinking.

Wes tried to explain how modelism falls short of the glory of God, but I’m not sure I’m smart enough to followed his explanation, or to do it justice by trying to repeat it. Maybe someday he will address his view on his website.

The problem is that God is unique. There is nothing like Him, not exactly like Him, anywhere.

To start with, He is Creator. All else is created. Thus everything from archangels to cockroaches (with me being somewhere on the scale in between, probably closer to the cockroach end of the chart) –Angels, roaches and me all have in common that we are created beings.

Therefore God is incomprehensible to our finite minds. Except, as He chooses to reveal Himself to us.

Over my pancakes, I quoted the Scripture, “For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known”.

Wes emphasized the “Now we see” part of that verse; I emphasize the “through a glass darkly” part.

Wes also pointed out to me that sometimes in Scripture the word God is used as an adjective, it’s not always a proper noun.

That’s something I’ll really have to think about.

I love our talks. They encourage me to think about the majesty and mystery of the Lord God Almighty and His care for the creation He made.

Makes me so glad I’m a Christian.

Then Wes and I drifted into talking about church stuff which is of no interest to anybody else.

I really enjoy these talks with Wes. He whets my mind.

After Wes left, I tried to look up the word he’d used to describe me in my dictionary; Maybe it was Modalist. My dictionary says modality is, “the classification of logical propositions according to their asserting or denying the possibility, impossibility, contingency, or necessity of their content”.

Well, that certainly clears that up.

Wes did alert me to the fact that one guy who attends the same church as Wes does, wanted to telephone me but didn’t because he feared I might mention him in a blog posting.

That bothers me.

I thought I evidenced a little more discretion that that.

Honestly folks, I do not even mention anything or anybody I suspect might want confidentiality. Nor do I mention anything vital related to our Neighborhood Crime Watch or CERT, or MRC, etc.. And even one of my own family members requested that I not mention him—so I don’t.

I have enough sins, foibles, goofs, and stupid ideas of my own, that I never need to tell about things people tell me in confidence.

I may be a modelist (whatever that is) but I know when to keep my mouth shut.

Oh, now I get it.

When my eyesight was sharper, I constructed model ships—a modelist. Here’s a photo of me building a model sailing ship in a beer bottle, one of my proudest accomplishments in life:

I use this photo as my avatar.

In the evening, after a trip to the library, Ginny and I ate dinner at Kosta’s Italian.

Met a lady in tears.

Her husband (boyfriend?) had taken her there and ordered food. They got into an argument and he stalked out leaving her without money to pay the bill. Ginny loaned the lady her cell phone so she could call her dad or someone to bring her cash for the meal.

Sad.

Ginny and I talked about our own relationship and I foolishly said, “Well, you knew what you were getting when you married me”.

“No. I didn’t,” she said. “I had no idea. But I’m not too very disappointed”.

We talked about what our expectations were 40 years ago and realized that the culture pattern we expected to follow in marriage was conditioned by the ‘50s tv program Leave It To Beaver!

June Cleaver vacuumed wearing a stylish housedress, high-heels and a string of pearls. Ward came home from work dressed in suit and tie, put on his sweater and slippers, picked up his pipe and evening paper, and relaxed while June served up supper. Their table always sported a white tablecloth.

As Ginny and I compared what we’d been led to expect when we first married with the reality of what our first 40 years have been like, we got a huge laugh.

Ward and June on Leave It To Beaver—not exactly.

More like Onslow and Daisy on Keeping Up Appearances.

But such a joy. Such a blessing. Such delight.

Besides, Ginny paid for our eggplant parmigiana