Category: This BackLit Universe

This is the story of my intellectual trek from the limited perspective of a farmer’s son in a small town to the far-ranging vistas of researchers expanding the frontiers of knowledge about the universe. During and after my college days the classical worldview presented by my philosophical and theological courses…

They tell me that the first technically produced vehicle in which I ever took a ride was a cradle. I remember it well from much later and from the outside. It had oak panels all around it, like the washstand in our upstairs bedroom. I can’t remember how it felt…

My parishioners in the early 1940s were very generous toward me as a young fellow just starting out in the ministry. They didn’t expect very much more from me than I was able to give them. During those wartime years we shared with each other the vast resources of spiritual…

By the end of the fifties, several Canadian churches had come to realize that they were fast losing the intellectuals and the young people—the very people who would normally become the leaders of the country in the next generation. Great concentrations of these potential leaders were to be found at…

It’s a solemn thing to see most of your earthly treasures disappear into the depths of a moving van. On the journey they could all be destroyed in some grand smash-up. The furniture could be replaced, but photographs, manuscripts, notes, letters and keepsakes are irreplaceable. Moving is a risky business….

Day after day as we drove through the prairie country of the Midwest, not a cloud appeared in the blue overhead. Except for an ever-receding horizon, we were surrounded in every direction by the immensity of unlimited space. We felt very small, insignificant and out of place. As night fell…

The kids sometimes became pretty restless as we drove along hour after hour with the hot sun beating down on us. In August it’s mighty hot, even with all the car windows open. When children are confined to crowded quarters, they haven’t much to do except poke or tickle one…

The sun was setting as we drove through the Badlands of South Dakota. Long Midas fingers of light probed into that wilderness of spectacular erosion, turning otherwise dismal tip-tops into golden pinnacles on towers of deep rose grounded in purple. An official roadside information sign hove in sight by the…

If South Dakota’s Badlands is a scene from a devil’s nightmare, Yellowstone’s geyser area must be the kitchen that cooked up whatever gave rise to that weird dream. This enormous steam table has potholes in every direction, seething and boiling over. Occasionally some pressure cooker blows off. A spurt of…

The last day of our journey was a bit of a blur. After the hot, semiarid plateau beyond Spokane, Washington, the lush, irrigated fruit-growing valley around Wenatchee was a welcome relief. Through the coastal mountains all the vegetation was fresh and green. The trees were so tall. Long, long, lacy…