Imagine, as I did the other day, a toddler raised by an ardent, prophecy-hungry, dispensationalist mother. The little boy runs in from the back yard, anxious to discuss some playground injustice. Tommy:  Brendon keeps throwing snails at me!  Mommy:  Did you ask him to stop? Tommy:  I did! Twice! Mommy:  Well, listen, Tommy, we have to remember..

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