What I'm about to confess carries with it a modicum of shame. The incident happened long, long ago, in a land far, far away. I was young; likely a tad self-absorbed; and I was exhausted.
It was the weekend. I'd been away from home for several days, engaged in the kind of work every extrovert craves.
Unfortunately, I'm a pathological introvert.
I found a place of solitude in a room of my hosts' home--away from their houseful of visitors. I sat on a couch and reflected in the quiet. I desperately tried to stay awake for the sake of those who had gathered, but my head bobbed in one direction and my eyes rolled in another. I must have been a sight.
About the time I'd decided to surrender and find a bed, an older gentleman came in and settled in the chair opposite me. He began to talk. And talk. Gratefully, there was no expectation of my participation in the conversation. The Talker simply talked. Without inflection. Without blinking. Without pause. And--here's the shameful piece--when, after some time had passed, a mutual friend joined us, I summoned my last reserve of energy, jumped from the couch, and fled the room, leaving my friend to fend for himself.
With a last, wary glance over my shoulder, I saw the monotonous Talker slowly, indifferently, rotate his gaze from where I had been sitting to the seat my friend now occupied. The Talker continued his story without interruption. And without inflection. Without blinking. Without pause.
The ancient Greeks' manuscripts looked a lot like the Talker's conversation sounded. The Greeks, in whose language the New Testament was written, wrote in all "caps," without spaces, without punctuation.
ITLOOKEDSOMETHINGLIKETHISCANYO
UIMAGINEHOWAPARAGRAPHLOOKEDEX
CEPTTHEYDIDNOTHAVETHOSEEITHER
Now, imagine if we lived as the Talker talked and as the Greeks wrote. Without inflection. Without blinking. Without pause. What would it look like if we lived in all caps, without spaces, without punctuation: no question marks, no exclamation points, no periods. Period.
Consider, how does our use of punctuation give greater expression to our words?
Would our lives really be better without the uncertainty of questions, without the summons of an exclamation point, without the terminus of a period?
How might the grammar of our lives be more fully expansive and expressive?
A question mark might express curiosity as much as doubt.
An exclamation point might express delight as much as fear.
A comma might express sabbath rest as much as an exhausting list of tasks to be completed.
A period might express a healthy boundary as much as an authoritative declaration.
A colon might express the mystery of what is to come, devoid of judgment.
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