Old photos rescued from the mess that lies in the drawers where "one day I put everything in place." '80s, '84 To be precise. Recently passed maturity. What memories.
I was with my entire generation, a victim of skepticism. A generation disillusioned, now torn by dreams vanish. Maybe we were a little art institute of 'behind the times. A generation wounded by doubt. Anguish I penetrated to the very source of desire to live. All disguised as a 'silly exuberance. Anxiety that can be molded into a skeptical, cynical, unable to be touched by something beautiful. The total disappointment soul. Always happens, sooner or later, when one has faith in man. Why believe in the power triumph of truth, justice, the weak and the strong won. Love and charity, of everything 'that one believes to be good.
anguish devastating in decades.
She was miraculously healed through the years, from that seed, jealously and unconsciously, kept inside me. A seed that someone had placed gently at the source of the heart. Seed born that I had met one day many years ago. Met with a surprise almost embarrassing, as I saw guys like me, and even smaller, larger, they were happy, or just about everything. And speaking of Jesus What I thought old-fashioned, but I was happy for that meeting and I was also proud in front of the sneers of "friends" at school.
That period I have never forgotten: Do not forget the gates of death. At least those of the soul. I accepted a painful life, not life absurd. Fighting for the poor, the persecuted, for the good. I remember the years of doing "charity" with the elderly, with children, with the poor. All good things that I had made more "generous and strong", but I found myself at a certain point, desperate.
That little seed has been a hope, an open door to my desire for happiness.
A desire never vanished. The nice thing is knowing who to thank.
often with the desire to awaken the consciousness of my misery, but it is so urgent that can transform the tangible impotence in a silent cry.
This desire is not a moral. Christ is not a moral but a practical fact mysteriously, to be reckoned with and be embraced, from begging, and if its going to happen, swearing, when you feel like letting. It 's a rage that becomes a prayer. God is not flesh to give us a manual of instructions for use, has not brought peace but a sword.
annoying fact of Christianity that "values" social and moral, Christ never called by its name. I was never concerned. The Christianity of moralism "consistent" is already defeated, does not serve my happiness, the world swallows it in one gulp. There is another population of Christians is not to save their souls through exemplary conduct and ways of "respectable". I'm not in a people's "right" but miserable, sinister sinner whose heart is happy for having met him.
It is said that we might be saved but the "Road Home" is a bit 'more enlightened.
It is said that we might be saved but the "Road Home" is a bit 'more enlightened.
