the perfect morning...

There is something remarkable about being so well rested that one wakes up thirty minutes before the alarm is scheduled to go off. It points to having had a great weekend with one's family and getting to bed on time, I believe.

The early start has given me thirty minutes with an autobiography of A.W. Pink entitled Born to Write. I was introduced to Pink by Aaron Walsh - who bloggeth not, nevertheless his wife surely bloggeth. I haven't read enough of Pink's actual writings to have formed much of an opinion, but like most men, his life's stories are infinitely more interesting than his ideas anyway.

This morning, I read of Pink's travels to Australia, where he was an instant success and enjoyed a wide audience until he was censured by the Baptist Ministers Fraternal Organization for being too strong a Calvinist. In grand Baptist tradition, he was instantly offered the pastorate of Belvoir Street Particular Baptist Church in Sydney, where he was eventually forced to resign as being too strong an Arminian.

And thus are the trials of a man with an independant streak trying to live a balanced life.

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