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Tuesday, January 19, 2010


A more somber post.

I can't strive with Nabokov any longer. I'm forsaking Ada for now; I sense an alarmingly hollow sound behind all of the elaborate ornamentation. The excess of details isn't enough for me. I guess I'm realizing that moral backbone is important to me in the fiction I read, attractive as the idea of gloriously useless writing is.

I'm spiritually restless at the moment. A man with whom I work laid his hand on my shoulder recently and told me to listen to God. Amazing how little of that I do these days. I'll spend hours venting to God and devote not a second to opening my ears or heart to Him. As I press on these days, I'm rapidly coming to the realization that most of this world revolves around the question of what one values. Put simply, we do what we value, we forsake what we don't. That's a frightening thought for me.

The only way to communicate value then is to point toward what one values with one's own actions. The immanence of Christ's love won't be comprehensible without physical and verbal demonstrations of it on a daily basis, communications of its value. I just finished reading an essay by Marilynne Robinson on Dietrich Bonhoeffer. His sole purpose in life was to communicate Christ's immanence to us through his actions. If we value Christ, we will act as Christ did to the best of our limited abilities. Every day, we're bombarded with a deluge of values that we're supposed to accept without question. Value-judgments are constantly made for us. I guess, I think I need to pray for the discernment to distinguish were my priorities as a follower of Christ lie.

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