I grew up in a family that never had a color TV set. All the ballgames, all the TV shows, including the “Colorful World of Disney,” were in shades of black and white.
A few years ago my kids gave me, for a Christmas gift, a set of videos about pro football in the ‘60s—the era when I was growing up. I watched one of them, and the whole family laughed at my naiveté when I said, “I had no idea football uniforms were so colorful back then. My memories of them are in black and white.”
Do you dream in color? I have heard people ask that question, and I have heard people argue that no one does—although how they could know such a thing is beyond me.
But I am really more interested in a different question: Do you live in color? Or is your existence, especially your spiritual life, a mean and uninteresting acknowledgment of a bad-news, black-and-white God?