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JCsites.com
Registered Member

Date Joined Jun 2001
Total Posts : 169

Posted 1/1/2003 3:56 AM (GMT -6)

Last night I went on the board to post a happy new year message but before I did that, I found this thread. Kinda took that wind outta my sails I guess.

Greg thank you for sharing. I am full of joy and awe at the blessing God gave your family in how your dad passed from this life. I am always so thankful when I hear of a graceful passing like that.

It's hard enough to let go of a loved one. But praise the Lord that He made His presence and providence known in these circumstances. Even though there's an ache in your heart, wishing to talk with Dad again, it's still easier to let him go when you know God was involved the way he was. I think it's comforting.

"Thank you Lord for for how you used Edward Boyd to display your intelligent truth, your pursuit of our hearts, your grace, mercy and your unending love and forgiveness. Thank you Lord for the beautiful way you chose to bring this man into your presence for eternity. Thank you that we can rejoice his life and not feel like he was ripped from our presence, but that it was time for him to move on. We pray that you will continue to use Edward's life to change the lives of those who read how Edward came to know you. For your glory, Amen."

JCsites guy

GregBoyd
Registered Member

Date Joined Jul 2001
Total Posts : 1818

Posted 1/1/2003 4:53 AM (GMT -6)

Here's the Minneapolis Star Trib's Story.

Edward Boyd, co-author of 'Letters from a Skeptic,' dies

Martha Sawyer Allen

Star Tribune

Published Jan. 1, 2003

Edward K. Boyd, the Twin Cities man whose deep faith crisis produced one of the nation's best-selling Christian books, died Saturday of multiple health complications. He was 84.

The letters he exchanged with his son, the Rev. Greg Boyd of Woodland Hills Church in Maplewood, became "Letters from a Skeptic," which has sold thousands of copies and has been translated into 14 languages. The 1994 Chariot Victor Publishing book was awarded the Gold Medallion by the Christian Booksellers Association in 1995.

Edward Boyd was a sales representative and manager for Uniroyal Tires in the Twin Cities, and he raised his family in Cottage Grove. In 1959, his wife, Arlyle Boyd, Greg's mother, died, and Edward Boyd turned away from his faith. Years later, Greg Boyd, then a professor at Bethel College in Arden Hills, decided to engage his father, who had moved to Florida, in a written conversation.

The result is the book.

When Arlyle Boyd was dying, all the children and Edward prayed a lot. Edward wrote to his son, "Maybe God doesn't listen to the prayers of sinful adults, but He should have at least heard the cries of you kids! . . . It seems easier to simply conclude that He doesn't give a damn."

Greg Boyd answered his father that he, too, had raged at God for his mother's death. "Jesus suffers with us in our suffering. That's how He heals us of our suffering."

In 1992, Edward Boyd accepted Jesus as his savior, Greg Boyd said. "The man was as hearty a sinner as they come -- but he had a heart of gold," Greg Boyd said.

Edward Boyd returned to the Twin Cities when his health began to fail about two years ago. Last year he moved to Wisconsin. He died in Marshfield, Wis. Greg Boyd said that even though his father's health was deteriorating "he just cried one day and said how blessed he had been.

"He aged and died with tremendous dignity and grace."

His father was an advocate for racial equality in labor unions, Greg Boyd said. "I was with him when [the Rev.] Martin Luther King's assassination was reported [in 1968] and I had never seen him cry like that."

Edward Boyd was born in Linden, Mich., on Nov. 13, 1918. In addition to his son Greg, he is survived by his wife, Jeanne Boyd, of Rome, Wis.; children Judy Simonis, Joanne Taylor, Deborah Sparrow, Christopher Boyd, Carol Dominic, Lynda Carver and Anita Prosser; six stepchildren, 19 grandchildren and numerous great-children.

A memorial service that is open to the public will be held at Woodland Hills Church, 1740 Van Dyke St., Maplewood, at 11 a.m. Friday.

"In Christ...the ONLY THING that matters is faith energized by love." Galatians 5:6

BBBCanada
Registered Member

Date Joined Jun 2001
Total Posts : 2763

Posted 1/2/2003 6:13 AM (GMT -6)

Nice tribute to your father, Greg. I guess it would be great to have a relationship like that with one's father, where one will actually be missed, but I can't say that. Huh. And that's a hole. Life sure sucks sometimes. We don't have relationships with those we are supposed to be closest to, so that we can even have something to grieve over. We say good bye to departing loved ones. The departing, say good bye to those they leave behind. It's all sooo bittersweet. But there is a HOPE! Here's a song born out of a situation where a mother had to leave her husband and children behind.

Home Free
by Wayne Watson

I'm trying hard not to think you unkind
But Heavenly Father
If you know my heart
Surely you can read my mind
Good people underneath the sea of grief
Some get up and walk away
Some will find ultimate relief

Chorus
Home Free, eventually
At the ultimate healing we will be Home Free
Home Free, oh I’ve got a feeling
At the ultimate healing
We will be Home Free

Out in the corridors we pray for life
A mother for her baby, A husband for his wife
Sometimes the good die young
It's sad but true
And while we pray for one more heartbeat
The real comfort is with you

You know pain has little mercy
And suffering's no respecter of age, of race or position
I know every prayer gets answered
But the hardest one to pray is slow to come
Oh Lord, not mine, but Thy will be done

Let it be...

Chorus
Home Free, eventually
At the ultimate healing we will be Home Free
Home Free, oh I’ve got a feeling
At the ultimate healing
We will be Home Free

Home Free, eventually
At the ultimate healing gonna be Home Free
Home Free, oh it’s more than a feeling
At the ultimate healing
Gonna be Home Free

Brandon
"Truth is so obscured nowadays and lies so well established that unless we love the truth we shall never recognize it."--Todd Flanders/ Pascal: Talkin' 'bout My Generation

trosie
Registered Member

Date Joined Jul 2001
Total Posts : 550

Posted 1/2/2003 9:11 AM (GMT -6)

quote:
I guess it would be great to have a relationship like that with one's father, where one will actually be missed, but I can't say that. Huh. And that's a hole. Life sure sucks sometimes. We don't have relationships with those we are supposed to be closest to, so that we can even have something to grieve over.

Dear Brother Brandon,
I totally know how hard it is to not have the type of relationship that others get to experience. I agree that life does suck sometimes, BUT when it does, just remember that your heavenly Father, your Daddy, is standing right next to you.

Brandon, regardless of the relationship you have (had) with your earthly father, reflect upon the fact that you ARE precious to God. You are accepted and have been justified. You are significant. You are the salt of the earth. You are the branch of the true vine. You have been appointed by God to bear fruit. You are God's workmanship. You are his coworker and therefore can do all things through Christ who gives you the strength.

In the card game of life we each have to play the hand dealt to us but praise God because NEVER do we have to do it alone! The song you shared says it best: "And while we pray for one more heartbeat
The real comfort is with you."

I just wanted to chime in because you "seemed" a little bummed in your post -- not sure you were but in any event we can never be reminded too much of how great of a love God has for us.

trosie

seeker35
Registered Member

Date Joined Feb 2002
Total Posts : 25

Posted 1/2/2003 4:47 PM (GMT -6)

Dear Dr. Boyd,
Wish I had something profound to say. Sorry, I never do...But, I think I'd regret it if I didn't say anything.
I didn't know your father. I didn't know my own father. But, your dad, he meant something to me. He taught me something. Yeah, I know, me and probably a million others. So, maybe I'm speaking for some of them too.
I was a skeptic. Like him. But, I wanted to believe. He got me going. I thought, if he can believe, so could I. So I started. And I started believing. You see,...he made the difference. The rest of you people on this board--well, I can't argue with you. and that's kind of good.
I don't know where your father is now. I think someplace peaceful, though. Waiting. I think he is where he is supposed to be.
I just wanted to tell you that.
thank you.
I hope you remember the best.

Springs
Registered Member

Date Joined Jul 2001
Total Posts : 636

Posted 1/2/2003 7:14 PM (GMT -6)

Dear Greg,
Thanks for sharing your heart with us. I'm sorry for your loss. I lost my father six years ago. I have never experienced anything like it, before or since. As my sister and I traveled from different states toward the funeral the Lord gave each of us Ps. 116. Like Al posted above "...precious in the sight of the Lord..." Truly your father died beloved, in a precious way. Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles.

I was able to meet your father a few times over the years and the impression I got most often, was of how proud he was of you, and how delighted he was to be used by the Lord to bring so many to Christ. When I told him how "Letter's" was instrumental in bringing salvation to members of my family he beamed like a school boy.

God bless you both.
I'll keep you and yours in prayer.
Springs

"Contrariwise," continued Tweedledee, "if it was so, it might be; and if were so, it would be; but as it isn't , it ain't. That's logic."

Shine
Registered Member

Date Joined Jun 2002
Total Posts : 24

Posted 1/3/2003 6:42 AM (GMT -6)

I am sad to learn of Ed’s passing. I wanted desperately to be at his memorial service but circumstances prevented me to do so. I just want to say that my heart goes out to Ed’s family and his love will always remain. Ed is with Jesus, and he is finally free. Matthew 5:4, God blesses those who mourn, for they will be comforted. I pray for comfort and peace.
Love, Shine

Tiggers
Registered Member

Date Joined Jul 2001
Total Posts : 219

Posted 1/3/2003 5:48 PM (GMT -6)

Hey Greg,

My prayers and love are with you and your family this next week, truly. Your father's writing has been a great inspiration in my life and that of my students. I must have given about 15 copies of "Letters" to various people, as well as working through the book a correspondence every Sunday School. The class loves the book as well as your fathers brassy personality...on the real, your fathers intellectual questions combined with his down to earth "what you see is what you get" attitude help make this book such a best seller (in my opinion)…why, well because one easily sees that his conversion in the end is genuine…he put up a great fight, but in the end, God’s loving hands touched your fathers heart (not to mention your faith, prayers, and love too, Greg) and he realized that ultimate truth (i.e. Love) is found only in our wonderful triune God.

Warmly in Christ,
Tiggers

PS
I don’t write this out of pity for you or your fam.; however, I do write this in celebration that your father is now with the Lord, saved and left a legacy encouraging us as Christians to keep pressing on not giving up easily, but striving to continually find what he found…the Truth.

“The notion that God uses evils as a means to such higher goods is, … incompatible with the doctrine that he is omnipotent, and therefore does not need to use deplorable means to achieve his ends” (J.L. Mackie).

shell
Registered Member

Date Joined Mar 2002
Total Posts : 280

Posted 1/4/2003 5:40 AM (GMT -6)

The memorial service was a beautiful celebration of Ed Boyd's life!!

Shell

GregBoyd
Registered Member

Date Joined Jul 2001
Total Posts : 1818

Posted 1/4/2003 9:40 AM (GMT -6)

Thank you all for your tender words and reassurances. They are wonderful.

The memorial service yesterday was sweet. All who could make it, thank you. It was a beautiful "summing up" of a wonderful life and paradoxical man. Members of the family were deeply moved, and I think it helped bring us closer together.

My older sister Debbie said something that succinctly revealed a paradoxical quality in my father. She said "my father was the most intelligent man I've ever met, and also probably the most crass. He had an extraordinary vocabulary but could also speak in whole paragraphs without a single clean word!" Those two "qualities" rarely go together. But that was my dad.

And God used it. I think his letters touch deeply because they are at once intellectually probing and very "earthy." Even after his conversion he retained this paradoxical dimension. His language softened -- a bit -- but he never got "religious." He was growing to be a spiritual giant whose feet remained firmly planted on the real earth.

One of my funniest memories is of Dad visiting WHC some time ago when we were at Harding High School. In "the visitors room" a very proper Christian lady sort of cornered him and began to talk on and on about some topic. I surmised that Dad was kind of a hero to her, it seemed. Now, Dad was already very hard of hearing, and there was a lot of noise in the room which reeked havoc with his hearing aid. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the situation unfolding and knew that Dad probably wasn't tracking with this lady very well. So I finally managed to work my way across the crowed room to where he was in order to "rescue" him. I got there just in time to see him politely smile at the lady and raise his hands with a tinge of frustration and exclaim -- quite loudly: "Lady, I wish I knew what the hell you are talking about!"

The nice lady was stunned into staring silence.

I mummbled something to the nice stunned lady about him being hard of hearing as I escorted him out of the room.

THAT was my dad!

Doc

"In Christ...the ONLY THING that matters is faith energized by love." Galatians 5:6

Tom
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Date Joined Jul 2001
Total Posts : 10353

Posted 1/4/2003 10:21 AM (GMT -6)

My Dad used to cuss us out for several minutes without having to repeat a swear word. Cut out of the same mold. Swearing was an art form for him. Like Bill Cosby said, growing up he thought he was "Jesus Christ" and his brother was "Damn it" cause that's how his Dad called them all the time. One day his Dad called to him, "Damn it come here right now!" and Bill Cosby said, "Dad I'm not Damn it I'm Jesus Christ, Damn it's in the back yard."

Tom

Love never ends

Semeia
Registered Member

Date Joined Aug 2001
Total Posts : 522

Posted 1/4/2003 2:59 PM (GMT -6)

Greg, thank you for your beautiful tribute to your father. I can only imagine how powerful a prayer warrior your father will be now that he has been freed from his physical suffering. His love for you and your brother and sisters not only endures but is filled with more understanding and compassion and joy than ever before. He is receiving the full measure of the gift you gave each other when you entered into a conversation about God. And the impact of that conversation continues to reverberate - and the gift never quite gets given away because it keeps coming back a hundredfold.

Your dad probably never dreamed that his eloquent questions and struggling heart would speak to so many people. Having been a reluctant Christian myself, I found my own thoughts expressed beautifully in his words. But the power of that conversation lies not in the questions asked or the answers given, but in the love that sparked it and sustained it. Without that love, there wouldn't have been an answer good enough. With it, the love between a father and son has a chance to impact thousands upon thousands.

I remember the feeling I had when the simple love of a friend allowed me to believe, to see for the first time that God really, really loves even a stubborn questioner like me. I think it's beautiful that you got to do that for your father. And that he let you.

You said the other night that your father wanted his ashes scattered over the St. Croix. What a beautiful symbol of the living water, eternal source of flowing abundant life. The trout flickers, the deer bends its neck at dusk, the eagle soars low over the water, day gives way to night, season gives way to season, and time stretches like a river of living water at the heart of creation; life leaning toward it like leaf-blown trees rooted at its rocky edge and flocks of egoless geese migrating along its corridor, winding with its compass pull toward love, love, love as the central impulse behind creation.

You who are evil, would you give your child a stone? How much more will the Father in heaven give?

And as the leaves are blown each with their own path into the current and swept along are they each still somehow a leaf? Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, swept into the river of everlasting water? When my brother called with the news that my dad had died suddenly of a heart attack, his car veering off the road, I rushed to the hospital as soon as my husband could get home to be with the kids. But by the time I got there the rest of the family had left, and dad had been brought to the morgue. He was laying on one of those refrigerator drawers, and he still had the breathing tube in and the surprised look when his heart stopped. What struck me most was how absent he was, how completely gone he was from his body. The only thing that was the same was his thick wavy gray hair, which I reached out and touched, shocked that he was so much smaller in death than he had been in life. I said, “Daddy,” under my breath, which is something I hadn’t said since I was four years old. And then I left the hospital and drove around looking for him, as odd as that sounds. I found myself driving to his house, which is the house I grew up in with my six brothers and sisters. It was a sunny March day, and although there was a foot of snow still on the ground, it had warmed up into the forties. The house was locked, but a little voice told me that there was a key on a nail in the garage. I let myself in through the basement, and I didn’t look as I walked by the dark room that had been mine. Upstairs dad had thrown open every window before he left that morning, and the March air was blowing through the house, stirring up the dust on all the surfaces. I walked from room to room, remembering childhood like a car wreck.

I touched the walls; I opened cupboards and drawers not knowing what I was looking for; I closed my eyes and heard voices rising from the deep of the past: so much turmoil and anger and lostness, so much human frailty, so much messy life breaking on the rocks of this house. And moments of redemption, when resentments would give way to laughter, when we momentarily forgave each other for being human.

And as the March air stirred the memories and dust through the windows wide, invigorating the dark corners with the breath of life, swirling in and around the husk of the house, blurring the line of inside and outside, bringing the chill of the snowdrift in with the promise of Spring, I became aware of dad’s presence in the air and the dust. Not the memory of dad’s presence, but dad’s actual being, everywhere, close, loving, and full of knowledge and sorrow. His spirit was as huge as his lifeless body had been small. This was the first time in my life that I realized how big people are, what poor receptacles our bodies really are for the vast power of the spirit within. It’s as if death takes us from particle to wave, releasing us so we might expand to encompass the known world, and farther, to the outer edges of the universe.

When my Mom died I was with her, and I experienced the same shock of the vastness of the spirit compared to the finite body. She had wasted away from cancer like the worst holocaust victim, but it wasn’t until the last day when her spirit began to withdraw from her that it became obvious how the little of her that was left had been animated purely by spirit. Her body after she died was like the husk of a butterfly, almost inconceivable that it had sustained life. Perhaps it is more accurate to say that life – spirit – sustained it. As she died I felt the vastness of her spirit that was freed from her body at last. A few weeks later a friend of mine gave birth to triplets. When I went to the neonatal intensive care to see them, I was bowled over by the same feeling. The little girl in particular, tiny, hooked up to tubes in the incubator, filled up the room with her spirit. Her eyes wide open (supposedly unable to focus past a foot) appeared to take in everything. I very distinctly got the feeling that her little body didn’t fully contain her yet, that her powerful spirit extended outward to the edges of the room. I felt like I was walking through her spirit to get to her.

I love to think of my dad throwing the windows open that last morning of his life, as if to let himself back in. Let yourself go; let the world in. Empty the house of your body, so it can contain the world. The huge wings of my mother’s spirit beat away from her butterfly body on that last day, when she died and was born. And the spirit of the infant girl in the incubator filled the room and knocked me off my feet.

I spent most of my childhood acutely aware of the losses, the deficits, the failures, and the unrealized dreams. Even so, there were moments of secret joy, curled up with a book, or leaning against a tree, or face turned up to catch the falling snow. Age and faith have made those moments grow; not just the private moments but most especially those moments of joy and appreciation for the people in my life. I used to only see the smaller selves of my parents, limited by their all-too-human weaknesses, their lack of patience, their pain, their fear, their mistakes. Their love for me was sometimes hidden behind the masks they used to face the world. But toward the end of their lives I got to see who they really always were: beautiful, free, unique, precious, blessed by the love of God.

God loves us because he sees who we really are. Love frees us to be who we really are. And in that love we find abundance, what has always been before us even in the worst of circumstances, even in the darkest hour, flowing from the center of creation, beckoning us to believe, to drink in the love for which we were made.

And God loves us as we are, at this moment. God so loved the world… And so we find abundance, as your father did, even as he lost most of his sight, hearing, and mobility. “I’m so blessed.”

It’s hard to shake off the confusion, to see who we really are. But we all have those moments of truth, when we glimpse the vast spirit in the most average person, sometimes even in ourselves, and realize that perhaps we were wrong in our relentless assessments. We see narcissism and grandiosity, and we think it is self-love, when in reality it is a lack of love, a grasping at love, a wish for love, an inner belief that love has passed us by. We feel hurt by people, and we fail to see that they feel hurt by us, or by life, or by God. God forgives us not because He needs to in order to love us, but because we need Him to in order to receive His love. God’s judgment is mercy; mercy is forgiveness; forgiveness is love; and love is what we live for. Without love we are blind, but we think we see. With love the scales fall from our eyes, and we see beyond our ability to understand, and we become like little children, and leave it up to God.

Since the memorial service yesterday, I have felt immersed in the stories told by your family. I am struck by some of the powerful similarities between our families, but perhaps if we cracked open any family and took an honest look we would find a universal struggle at its core.

Like my own father, your father’s passion was the branding iron of the family, leaving its mark for good and ill. And yet through forgiveness, evident in each of you, the burning fades away and the love remains. As each of you spoke, I thought of the almost inconceivable tragedy at the heart of your family, with your mother’s death from leukemia just as you were setting out in the world: four little children adrift, with your stricken father. And yet each of you turning out brilliant in your own way, a testimony to God’s love and your father’s perseverance, somehow finding that whatever you had been given was enough. Your mother with you, loving you, even when you were most alone. Your father with you now.

I can picture your father raising his fist at God, when your mother died. And I see God pouring out His love upon him, saying, “You have no idea what I have in store for you, Ed Boyd, how much I will always love you.”

Greg, you have a remarkable family. It was a privilege to be a witness to your family’s outpouring of love for your father. Each one of you, from your half-sister on down, opened a window onto a real, passionate, complex, intense, earthy, and loving man – and onto a family with all the same qualities. The tragedies that darkened childhood did not manage to dim the brilliant spark in each of you. My deepest hope is that your dad’s last legacy will be to bring each of you even closer together in love, fulfilling God’s deepest desire for us all.

Love,
Semeia

"The opposite of sin is not virtue, but faith."--Soren Kierkegaard

Edited by - Semeia on 01/04/2003 8:16:42 PM

Shine
Registered Member

Date Joined Jun 2002
Total Posts : 24

Posted 1/4/2003 3:21 PM (GMT -6)

Looks like I am going to be stuck in my house for awhile (new transmission). Greg, I want to thank you for sharing your dad with us. After reading your last post, it seems that your dad and my father-in-law, Russ, were cut from the same mold. I use to laugh whenever I was around Russ’ brass and poignant personality; he could swear a mile a minute. I remember when Russ was concerned for his town because they were without the “Jaws of Life”. As the mayor, he rallied for fund-raisers to ensure that this town would be safe with this “Jaws of Life.” Ironically, Russ was the first one that the medics had to use the “Jaws of Life”. Yes, Russ could swear a mile a minute, but more importantly Russ had a big heart. I miss him.

I remember a couple of years ago, my husband, Craig, asked the same probing questions as your dad, Greg. I told him to read “Letters” and he started reading the book and he couldn’t put it down. When Craig finally finished the book I noticed tears coming down his eyes. I asked him why he was crying and he just looked at me and said: “You can surely see the display of genuine love they both have for one another.” I want to thank you and your dad, Greg, for sharing this book; it not only teaches about the Truth, it teaches about love and devotion.

Love, Shine

John Earp
Registered Member

Date Joined Oct 2002
Total Posts : 1715

Posted 1/4/2003 6:43 PM (GMT -6)

My apologies that I just now wandered into this thread. I was unaware of Dr. Boyd's father's passing. Though I never met him, I truly felt like I got to know him as I read _Letters from a Skeptic_. I wonder if he had any idea how profound an effect that book, especially his part in it, would have on so many people. Heaven only knows.

Dr. Boyd, I pray that the comfort, peace, and joy of the Holy Spirit be with you and your family during this time.

In Christ,

John Earp

May the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ be with your spirit.

GregBoyd
Registered Member

Date Joined Jul 2001
Total Posts : 1818

Posted 1/5/2003 3:36 PM (GMT -6)

Gina, if you don't immediately become extremely intentional on expressing yourself in writing to a larger audience, it will be a crime against humanity. Whenever you write, it has an poetic brilliance to it. It softly cuts. It... its really good.

I know exactly what you're talking about with your various references to the 'vastness of spirit" of the living and the "smallness" of what is left with the dead. My father literally morphed the two days after we took him off the resperator. He shrunk... but not just physically. He was "leaving the building." You could SEE it. You could SENSE it. He looked and "felt" different... just being in the room with him.

Dad's body was SO stubborn on letting him go. I guess we're biologically wired for survival... and dad's wiring was intense. Three separate times -- over 48 hours -- he went into the "final stages" before death. He started "chain stoking" (a cycle of breathing rapidly followed by no breathing for up to a minute), and yet he recovered after each time. (The hospice nurse said they try to never be surprised at anything, but this was "exceptional." ) Throughout these 48 hours, his heart rate ranged from 100 to over 160! This from a 84 year old man who up to the age of 60 smoke three packs a day for over thirty years! (Its clear where I and my daughters get our long-distance stamina from). It was simply biological resilience.. His spirit was saying, "let go" but his biological instincts were refusing... till finally, the "butterfly winged spirit" got out of the cacoon.

It struck me that the process of dying is very similar to the process of birth... and that this probably is not a coincidence. For they are both a process of transitioning from one domain to another.

I loved your analogy of death as a transition from "particle" to "wave." I also loved your insight into love as the key to manifesting who we truly are. I was myself struck with this two weeks ago as I read I Cor. 13 for the gazillionth time. When "the complete" comes... when God's story is complete, and each of us complete within this story... ONLY love shall remain, and we shall know and be known. Right now, apparently, we do not. We are mostly clouded by illusion and delusion. Yet, as you note, there are moments of truth when "we glimpse the vast spirit in the most average person, sometimes even in ourselves, and realize that perhaps we were wrong in our relentless assessments."

I'm convinced that the central goal of the Christian life is to grow in "the moments of truth." To become a Jesus-person who acknowledges the vast spirit and infinite worth of the most average, and even vastly below average person. To become one who lives in freedom from the "relentless assessments" we fallen humans tend to be addicted to as a strategy for getting surrogate life.

Finally, Gina, you say: "We see narcissism and grandiosity, and we think it is self-love, when in reality it is a lack of love, a grasping at love, a wish for love, an inner belief that love has passed us by." I just want you to know that I know exactly what you are talking about, and agree 100 percent with your assessment. I am thoroughly convinced that grandiosity is usually a pathetic compensation for inner emptiness, and warrants compassion, not anger (though its affects must sometimes be vigorously confronted). A person living out of an empty center NEEDS to feed themselves with something. Becoming a legend in one owns mind works as well as anything.

Thanks to all for your tremendous show of thanks and compassion.

Greg

"In Christ...the ONLY THING that matters is faith energized by love." Galatians 5:6

churchmouse522
Registered Member

Date Joined Jul 2001
Total Posts : 163

Posted 1/7/2003 11:01 AM (GMT -6)

Semeia:

I'll be the first to buy your book. You amaze me.

Mouse

Mayflower
Registered Member

Date Joined Mar 2002
Total Posts : 445

Posted 1/14/2003 12:56 PM (GMT -6)

For the record, here's another article that someone sent my way. This one was published in the St. Paul "PIONEER PRESS":

______________________________________________________

OBITUARY: Edward Boyd, 84, Christian author
BY STEPHEN SCOTT
Religion Editor

Published Tuesday, December 31, 2002

Edward Boyd's lifetime of agnosticism turned generations of readers toward Christianity.

His skepticism began to fade during three years of correspondence he shared with his son, Maplewood pastor and theologian Gregory Boyd. Their letters were later turned into a book, which persuaded countless readers who identified with Edward Boyd's questioning of the Christian faith.

Edward Boyd died Saturday at age 84 in Marshfield, Wis., three weeks after suffering a massive stroke, eight years after "Letters From a Skeptic'' was published.

"He was always just baffled and overwhelmed by the tremendous response to the book,'' said the younger Boyd, pastor at the 5,000-member Woodland Hills Church. "It just amazed him that his questions seemed so ordinary but hit a chord with such a large number of people.''

Typical of the responses was one posted on the *[Christus Victor Ministries]website Monday:

quote:
"Every question I read from the father made me say, 'There, see what your Christian belief can say about that.'

"As the book progressed I found my position gradually eroding. I began to side more and more with the well-thought-out answers of the Christian son as opposed to the skeptical father. My own skepticism began to diminish along with the father's. I slowly traveled down the long road to a more reasoned and defensible Christianity.''

*[Excerpted from book-review entitled," FOLLOWING IN ED BOYD'S FOOTSTEPS," originally published
July 5, 2001, at Barnes & Noble website].

Edward Boyd, who lived several years in Cottage Grove and later in St. Paul, was a tire salesman and advocate for unions and social justice, his son said.

"He once told me, 'It just amazes me that all my life I've been trying to change the world through politics and never felt like I made much of a difference. Here in the twilight of my life, it's my questions that are having an impact.' "

A memorial service will be at 11 a.m. Friday at Woodland Hills, 1740 Van Dyke St., Maplewood.

[end of article]

_ _ _ _ _

Mayflower
Registered Member

Date Joined Mar 2002
Total Posts : 445

Posted 1/14/2003 1:00 PM (GMT -6)

<><

"The Invitation"

"Behold, I stand at the door and knock:
If any man hear My voice and open the door

I will come in to him,
and will sup with him and he with Me."

Revelation 3:20

CalvinnHobbes
Registered Member

Date Joined Jan 2003
Total Posts : 88

Posted 1/19/2003 8:07 AM (GMT -6)

Greg,

Thank you for making the time to bless all of us with your encouraging thoughts in the midst of such personal loss. Your investment in people's lives through this forum is greatly appreciated, always and especially now.

We sympathize with your pain but rejoice with you, knowing that your father is more alive than any of us.

Wisdom and love,
Shane

"The longer I live, the more I read, the more patiently I think, and the more anxiously I inquire, the less I seem to know." ~President John Adams

Mayflower
Registered Member

Date Joined Mar 2002
Total Posts : 445

Posted 1/30/2003 4:51 AM (GMT -6)

The MASTERPIECE "flash" presentations are
beautiful.

Go to the following website, and click on
"The Invitation":

www.masterpeace.com/e-prints.asp

<><

Edited by - Mayflower on 01/30/2003 09:54:12 AM

KimberlyStrothman
Registered Member

Date Joined Feb 2003
Total Posts : 1

Posted 2/3/2003 4:46 AM (GMT -6)

Greg, I don't honestly know how to respond to the death of your father. For me denial is kicking in. I am sad for you and your family. I know especially when a person has had trama in their life to grief process seems to take FOREVER and a day. When I was in Albert Lea the song that kept going through my mind is this... "all of my life I've been passing time watching trains go by all of my life eagle's fly. Since I've found a way blah, blah, blah. I'm sure you have heard the song. But, as that song kept going through my mind (usually as I was using the payphone trying to hang on to Victoria with one hand, crying because I felt so isolated, mis-understood and alone) I would get a picture (a true picture) of the homeless camps, geese flying overhead (4:30) watch the sky at that time. Charlie, one of the homeless guys talking to me with a wry smile. Bushy, Strawberry blond, red hair. A gentleman from kentucky. Most notable quotes "I was homeless before homeless was cool. and "I am sorry Chaplain Kimberly, I don't fit into your plan". Within I would retort, Plan, what plan. God has a plan for you and it's to prosper you and not harm you. He love's you. That's his plan. To continue to love you.
Most of the guys from that homeless camp are dead. I almost wonder if that is what I was picking up on in Albert Lea. I thought it was grief from my childhood. Maybe I was just identifying my feelings. Long story. Any way back to the whole purpose. I hope you see Greg what God does through you. YOU Greg Boyd are also letting God work through you. Greg, If I were to write your eulony it would be this:

Greg Boyd is a man of integrity. He cares about the world around him. He spent his years serving Christ, his family and the community. He brings a tranparent approach to the process of life which heals him and the community. He is appreciated, respected and loved. I admire him and have been motivated to contiue in the journey. It is hard to face death and life without others. He is someone he did live his life in such a way that peopleknew respect whtn they knew him God Bless You Greg. With Lots of Love Kimberly. P.S. Thank you for keeping in front of me the question WWJD. Sincerely, Kimberly

GregBoyd
Registered Member

Date Joined Jul 2001
Total Posts : 1818

Posted 2/3/2003 10:19 PM (GMT -6)

Thanks Kim. I appreciate the kind words. Reading a potential pre-mortem eulogy of oneself is an encouraging challenge.

blessings
Greg

"In Christ...the ONLY THING that matters is faith energized by love." Galatians 5:6

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