Sometimes I feel that I really, truly believe. I love those times. When they occur, I feel that I have to walk
very carefully to keep the feeling, and the world becomes a mine field or a
jungle filled with snipers.
Someone will make a remark or I will get a thought. (How can God be everywhere? Why did Jesus give Martha such a hard
time?) Then It comes back – that small
ghost with the sharp teeth, made of doubt and guilt and envy of those who don’t
seem to be bothered by it.Then I tell myself that this is Satan doing his thing and that God understands and forgives. And that it happens to everyone. Then It whispers, “Really? What makes you think that you’re not special – specially sinful, that is?” (Followed by a diabolical laugh that I have no idea how to spell, but you get the idea.)
The point I’m trying to make, I think, is that certainty, at
least for me, is not stable. It’s not
even a case of one day at a time.
Sometimes it’s one hour or even one minute at a time. But that’s OK. I (or we) just have to keep trying. (Never mind that It says that one is being
too easy on oneself.)
Maybe you are luckier or wiser than I am. If you are, how do you do it?
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