Debating Christians
After a slow start, yesterday turned into a Book Happiness bonanza.
My first stop was the mandatory one-per-weekend amazing vanishing yard sale fiasco: the Craigslist ad promises a sale at a certain corner. You drive to the corner, but it's not a corner at all, but at least six corners (due to a jog in the street) none of which shows any signs of a yard sale. My hopes were resurrected when I spotted a yard with some boxes in it. So I stopped and found out that this was indeed the sale, despite the lack of any signs. A teenaged boy was bringing out some dust-encrusted boxes of "books" while his elders—did the long white hair and Old Father Time beard signify a hillbilly or a hippie?—ducked out into the house. The boxes contained forty-year-old high school textbooks and bestsellers, basically bad thrift store stock.I did find one book, a paperback Mrs. Byrne's Dictionary (see earlier entry). I asked the kid how much for one book and the kid said he had to ask his dad. After some dawdling, Old Father Time came out, inspected the book, asked me what it was (it's a dictionary), noted its 1974 date and declared "Five dollars!" I countered, "One dollar!" (My two other copies haven't sold yet.) He then insisted that I had to pay at least three dollars, "because anybody will come here and pay one dollar." I didn't quite understand the logic. He then came down to two dollars which I was willing to pay just to end the pain, but he didn't have change of a ten. I gave up and walked away. I doubt anyone else would have had the perseverence to even find that sale. I feel sorry for the boy.
Next stop, college gym rummage sale. I arrive just in time to stand in line with a handful of cheerful middle-aged ladies, obviously not book people.
When I entered I saw an entire wall of a gymnasium given over to old books, two rows thick. Immediately I picked up a few of them, both old Christian tomes, debates on various theological topics. This was the second Christian college sale I'd attended that featured these sorts of debate books: the expected controversies between Atheists and Christians, or Mormons and Christians but also between different sorts of Baptists or between Baptists and non-Baptists or between proponents and non-proponents of some Christian practice or doctrine. For example: The Warren-Ballard Debate held in Fort Worth, Texas in July of 1952. Proposition One: "The Scriptures teach that faith in Christ procures salvation without further acts of obedience." Proposition Two: "The Scriptures teach that water baptism is for the remission of past sins." Another debate went on between two pamphlets: Why Baptize by Sprinkling, by John R. Church and Why Not To Baptize By Sprinkling, by James R. Cope. My favorite acquisition, though, despite its rather shabby condition, was Thirty Years in Hell or From Darkness to Light by "Ex-Priest" Bernard Fresenborg. (I've never seen this sort of title in anything but shabby condition, right down to the water-stained boards.) It's a sensational expose of the sinful practices of priests, which reminded me of the "Alberto" comic books published by Jack Chick. Like Alberto's, Fresenborg's claims to Catholic priesthood were dubious.
The densely packed, almost unliftable box I brought home from that sale should keep me busy for a few days.
My first stop was the mandatory one-per-weekend amazing vanishing yard sale fiasco: the Craigslist ad promises a sale at a certain corner. You drive to the corner, but it's not a corner at all, but at least six corners (due to a jog in the street) none of which shows any signs of a yard sale. My hopes were resurrected when I spotted a yard with some boxes in it. So I stopped and found out that this was indeed the sale, despite the lack of any signs. A teenaged boy was bringing out some dust-encrusted boxes of "books" while his elders—did the long white hair and Old Father Time beard signify a hillbilly or a hippie?—ducked out into the house. The boxes contained forty-year-old high school textbooks and bestsellers, basically bad thrift store stock.I did find one book, a paperback Mrs. Byrne's Dictionary (see earlier entry). I asked the kid how much for one book and the kid said he had to ask his dad. After some dawdling, Old Father Time came out, inspected the book, asked me what it was (it's a dictionary), noted its 1974 date and declared "Five dollars!" I countered, "One dollar!" (My two other copies haven't sold yet.) He then insisted that I had to pay at least three dollars, "because anybody will come here and pay one dollar." I didn't quite understand the logic. He then came down to two dollars which I was willing to pay just to end the pain, but he didn't have change of a ten. I gave up and walked away. I doubt anyone else would have had the perseverence to even find that sale. I feel sorry for the boy.
Next stop, college gym rummage sale. I arrive just in time to stand in line with a handful of cheerful middle-aged ladies, obviously not book people.
When I entered I saw an entire wall of a gymnasium given over to old books, two rows thick. Immediately I picked up a few of them, both old Christian tomes, debates on various theological topics. This was the second Christian college sale I'd attended that featured these sorts of debate books: the expected controversies between Atheists and Christians, or Mormons and Christians but also between different sorts of Baptists or between Baptists and non-Baptists or between proponents and non-proponents of some Christian practice or doctrine. For example: The Warren-Ballard Debate held in Fort Worth, Texas in July of 1952. Proposition One: "The Scriptures teach that faith in Christ procures salvation without further acts of obedience." Proposition Two: "The Scriptures teach that water baptism is for the remission of past sins." Another debate went on between two pamphlets: Why Baptize by Sprinkling, by John R. Church and Why Not To Baptize By Sprinkling, by James R. Cope. My favorite acquisition, though, despite its rather shabby condition, was Thirty Years in Hell or From Darkness to Light by "Ex-Priest" Bernard Fresenborg. (I've never seen this sort of title in anything but shabby condition, right down to the water-stained boards.) It's a sensational expose of the sinful practices of priests, which reminded me of the "Alberto" comic books published by Jack Chick. Like Alberto's, Fresenborg's claims to Catholic priesthood were dubious.
The densely packed, almost unliftable box I brought home from that sale should keep me busy for a few days.