I Remember Reading of an Expressive God
I remember the year Dave died, and my finding an old J.B. Phillips New Testament at a used book shop down in Fells Point. I remember thinking that this little worn paperback would become my favorite, reading the gospels as proper prose, and such. I remember walking near the Baltimore piers and how happy it made me to read how Phillips handled John’s magnificent prologue, making God out to be a writer, and all.
And now it is falling apart so that I might start mailing out its best pages to you through the post. Yes.