Uncle Rob was still looking at me. "Chester," he said, "how old are you?"
"Nearly fourteen."
"Well, you talk as if you were about six! Is that really the sort of a picture that the word 'inspired' brings to your mind;—a man-god, dictating sentences?"
"But I didn't believe it!"
"But the idea of your supposing that any one believed it! No wonder you were stumped when you thought you saw so many intelligent people apparently swallowing that sort of thing! Now listen. Isn't it stated, over and over and over again, that God is Infinite Mind and incorporeal? Haven't you read it and read it and read it?"
"Yes."
"Then where on earth do you get your mental picture of a God in man's image?—speaking to material ears—in a human voice—in the English language?"
I could only shake my head.
"Well now here, you have admitted that God is Infinite Mind; then Infinite Mind must be Truth. Can you see it any other way?"
"No."
