Usually my lack of an opinion is simply because I can see both sides of an issue, and cannot commit to one. Black and white is hard for me. We do not live in a black and white world. We function in a million shades of color that are not always easily defined.
People who define things so easily are hard for me. People who arrive are hard for me. How do you arrive? How do you know when you've arrived, and when do you stop searching?
They may shake their heads and lament our generation of questioning everything, but they must accept that questions still remain. We live with them, step around them every day, all day long. One doesn't have to admit that there is uncertainty, or pry it open, for it yet to exist all around him.
I am quite comfortable with being unsure about a lot of things. There are many things that I have never figured out, or thought I had but now realize I don't, and maybe never will. I am ok with that.
Life lived among shadows is nothing new. If anything, living without mystery is something new, something that could only evolve in our own well-lit, well-informed society.
Consider, when was the last time you took a long walk in the dark? Ever? Do we ever find ourselves separated from electricity long enough to look up, to marvel, to become aware of the glorious mystery all around?
We so easily flip a switch, and the mystery evaporates. It is only the familiar world we know in the light. And so we assume familiarity with all things. We examine, and probe, and define, until things make enough sense to satisfy us and we stop. searching. We arrive.
But shining lights are in fact only shutting out the true reality, the true breath of mystery that hovers all around us. We cannot turn enough lights on to make it go away. We cannot answer enough questions. There will always be more.
Why be afraid of the dark?
Maybe our generation is in fact old-fashioned . . . maybe rather those who live without questions, who can make so much sense of everything, are they who have adopted the modern worldview. It is, in fact, a quite new idea, to live without mystery.
In societies that spent time under the stars, there were people who followed them. In places where it was quiet enough, angels appeared. An unsuspecting woman gave birth to God.
I am glad that I can say with Paul that I know whom I have believed (2 Tim 1.12) . . . and, along with Paul, that it is fellowship of the mystery (Eph.3.9) . . . .
I want to embrace the mystery.
From the library yesterday, we brought home Owl Moon . . .
When you go owlingyou don't need wordsor warmor anything but hope.That's what Pa says.The kind of hopethat flieson silent wingsunder a shiningOwl Moon