The security we crave would teach us to rest our hearts in this world and pose an obstacle to our return to God ... Our Father refreshes us on the journey with some pleasant inns, but will not encourage us to mistake them for home.
This reminds me of John Kenneth Galbraith's observation that "the conspicuously wealthy always turn up urging the character-building values of the privation of the poor." You know, fuck off, C.S. Lewis. Seriously, go eat a bag of dicks. I know some Christians are called to a life of suffering, but I burn with an inner conviction that I am not one of those so called. I really can't apologize for the fact that I am made of weak stuff, and if God loves me, He will understand that.
My understanding is that God is not supposed to saddle us with a burden we cannot carry, and if He wants us to perform beyond our capability, He must stand willing to lend a hand. I do not shrink from hardship: "Batter my heart, three-person'd God," as John Donne wrote. But he ended the sonnet thusly:
Take me to you, imprison me, for I,
Except you enthrall me, never shall be free,
Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.
They call our relationship with God a covenant, right? A covenant involves two parties, and imposes obligations on both. I am angry and hurt enough that I've got the damn nerve to ask you, God: Are you holding up your end of the bargain?
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