Fear of certainty

I find I want to be convinced before I act; I want to feel sure of myself. Somewhere in my history of recorded voices there’s  an adult male speaking quite assertively: “be sure you’re right – then go ahead.”

But I’m in open rebellion against his advice. I’ve misplaced my ability to put faith in what I think. I sit late at night, now, staring at the sky, praying: “what instructions have I received? What message has reached me? What, really and truly, can I believe? What, really and truly, should I do?”

God smiles and the night sky echoes back his booming silence.

I have promised – more than once – myself, my future, my wealth, my love. I have believed those promises; sworn by them in my heart. I have broken them all, time and again.

I come from the Christian Church, which is clear in its damnation of self-interest; clear in its promise of salvation through sacrifice. I am reeling on the edge of the precipice, my soul bloody and my strength just about gone – am I not, also, worth sacrificing for?

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