Either my eyes are coloured, or the world grows coloured… Either I’m sick, or the world is sick.
My fault-finding is not limited to others, and I’ve tried very hard to keep one eye pointed inward, watching for any signs of insanity or delusion.
…My fault… is that I’m unforgiving… So, I fear receiving a similar reward.
…But, insanity? Paranoia? Wrong politics?
Politics are one thing. Very frequently we choose wrong politics by our misunderstanding of how best to effect what is usually a common goal. That sin is only ignorance of how the world functions, not malicious intent.
Well, isn’t delusion the same misunderstanding, a misinterpretation of our senses?
Then, are we all on the path to heaven?
Yes, -some- heaven. But do our equally good intentions make us equally good?
No; our ignorance is self-perpetuating, and it suffocates our intentions. It’s our knowledge that defines us, secondarily to our intents.
Am I right or wrong?
Is the world sick? Or are my own eyes full of iniquity?
Maybe I’m just too young. Our liberties are being usurped, but maybe… they come and go… A conspiracy gathers over our country like a cloud… but maybe the system is still strong enough to check it and balance it.
Our religion is being yanked out from under us…
…But maybe my tent is facing Babylon, as God’s work expands behind me.
Whatever it is I’m facing, I see the "good" losing their battles.
I see this latest construction of civilization beginning to tilt. I see this ship of our modern advancement springing leaks… and I am chained here as a rowing slave, and none but me and a few of my fellow slaves senses the calamity.
This ocean… is called Styx, and we are floating into hell, our shipmen all blind with lust…
Is it wrong to dread disaster? Just a flash of… trepidation… comes as I glance over the newspaper…
Am I missing a crucial detail?
I thought this wasn’t the last night…
…But is it the next-to-last?
Ignorance truly fills this entire planet.
By this I know it’s not just me: all the other voices are arguing. If they united, I would have to really be something abnormal to deny them… and pride has been the folly of so many already…
…But… in what point do they converge? All the clamour merges into a sustained, sinister harmony…
…against my God.
This is a heavy faith.
I never had a faith beyond my reason, or contrary to it… but what if the time comes to choose? What if I find mistakes, in agreement with this devilish rancor?
It’s a heinous thought. I would never agree with that vileness, teaching evil for good.
Well, I’ve been looking for mistakes for as long as I’ve been literate — and the Church, alone… God alone… continues to pass my endless tests.
But……….. what maddening coincidence, that I, even I, would be born into this holy faith, as billions around me are born otherwise.
I would have turned out no better than they did. Beyond this coincidence of birth, I am not superior in any way, as my weaknesses manifest.
How impossible that we have gained any converts. Why are they so lucky to find it? So many of them stumble upon it, if not in error, then in random chance…
If the evidence is right, they all had it once…
…Why, God, punish a race for the sins of its parents?
And if the promise of thy Son’s restoration is sufficient for faith…
…Yet, why are they now poisoning this world with sin? They’ll kill us all… It’s a sad way to end, that’s all.
Ah, I’m so weak. There is no divine love except in contrast with a lack of divine love. No rightness, except for straying.
…No hell for these demons, these godlike children of loving heavenly parents, except for their sickening murders. None would ever deserve a hell except that they betrayed and destroyed their own earthly abode, made it by their own moral decrepitude into a spiritual landfill.
And at last, hell is destroyed, because God is good, and because he can.
Well then, I’m a very tiny person roaming about this tiny planet. It’s a small thing to resist this world.
And it’s a very small thing to lose this world.
…There are many others.
There is a history so much greater than our few lies in our empty newspapers.
My fault is that I’m unforgiving. Shouldn’t it be a small thing, also, to forgive freely?
May I gain the patience of those mountains guarding this city… May my tiny forgiveness grow… and overspread this tiny world.