When I was in school in the 1960s we were all made to read a book entitled, The Dreamtime: Australian Aboriginal Myths in Paintings (1965). That book was dedicated “To the Brown People, who handed down these Dreamtime Myths.” Those “Brown People” — the original inhabitants of the nation of Australia — were presented to us as a simple, primitive, childlike people. Their stories were quaint. Their children were cute. They lived aesthetic lives as hunter-gatherers in the wild interior of our country.

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Lawn is a monoculture, but every law in the nature handbook tells our planet to strive for biodiversity. Biodiversity is life; monocultures are on the verge of death, which is why lawn can’t survive without an elaborate life-support system of phosphate-based fertilizers, garden pesticides and herbicides. And because you keep feeding and watering it, lawn’s root system is pathetic. Without deep roots to break up the soil, the ground eventually degrades and turns into dirt (hence your need for fertilizers).

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On May 9, 1979, I attended a Billy Graham Crusade at Randwick Racecourse in Sydney. I had access to the lawn area in front of the blue grandstand. I don’t remember that. It says so on the ticket I kept from that night.

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Make no mistake:
if He rose at all it was as His body;
if the cells’ dissolution did not reverse,
the molecules reknit,
the amino acids rekindle,
the Church will fall.

It was not as the flowers,
each soft Spring recurrent;

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However the beast manifests itself in us – greed, fear, violence, addiction, lust, hate – our only response to the sacrifice of the Messiah is to feebly cry, “Have mercy on me, a sinner,” or “I believe, help my unbelief,” two prayers that keep that beast – never clearly seen, never wholly lost to view – at bay. Two prayers that express the hope that I’ll finally be changed from this creature that I am.

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