So if you are reading this, you are either me or a really nosy person.
Yeah, just kidding about that second part of the last sentence. No one reads this but me. This blog is about my getting stuff out of my system without burdening others. And by "others", I mean Wifey.
You see, I'd like to be entirely sanguine about life in general, in all its aspects. In fact, I strive to be. I also strive to be perfect. I am equally successful at both efforts.
And by "successful", I mean comprehensively unsuccessful.
I strive to be perfect because, as they used to exhort us to do in Driver Education, I "aim high in steering." I figure the best way for me to get as close as I can to perfect is to aim directly at it.
It has been my personal Hell my whole life to be dark when my soul wants to be bright white. Well, "wants" is the wrong verb. What I mean is that my central sin is my inability viscerally to embrace the blinding goodness that is central to our existence.
I believe in God. I believe a volitional higher power created us, and that this higher power is Christian. I believe in the Holy Trinity.
But I don't buy into any current Christian dogma. I'd passionately, desperately love to buy into Catholicism, because Lydia finds sublime comfort in it, and I find sublime comfort in her.
But she is much smarter than I. And I am stubborn.
I believe that God put us here with the analogue of a compass, a canteen of water and some hardtack. He gave us what we needed to thrive, and to find our way back to Him. In this analogy, the compass is our intellect, which is limited by the imperfection of our direct perception.
What I mean by "the imperfection of our direct perception" may best be described thusly: imagine your left hand submerged in 78-degree water, and your right hand submerged in 100-degree water. Now imagine then plunging both of your hands in 89-degree water. You, if you have an accurate imagination, will anticipate that simultaneously one of your hands will interpret that the water is cold, and the other that the very same water is warm.
Our direct perception of our condition is limited by the context in which we perceive it. Also limited by this is our logic.
Faith exists beyond this limit. In some degree, so does hope.
Ever driven at night? Then you know that your speed at night is limited by what your headlights illuminate. Irrespective of how powerful your motor is or how well your car handles, you cannot safely drive faster than what the evidence presented by your headlights indicates. Or, to put it in the common argot, "You can't outdrive your headlights."
Similarly, you can't expect your logic to be effective beyond the limits of your perception.
In my Christian-without-portfolio existence, the realm of faith is between the limits of our perception and the extent of our existence. To put it another way, faith bridges the gap between what we understand and what we experience.
Hey, I'm doing the best I can.
