Belief in God is for the weak, who are just looking for comfort and an escape from reality.
Some days, yeah. Probably. But also:
You beg God for strength often enough, and eventually you will see that you have none yourself. None. What you are without God is brittle and empty and cold, like dead coral. You can’t even make your own heart beat.
You pray for the courage to forgive someone, and you soon notice that you yourself live next to the abyss. You play next to it — you spend your life fooling around, threatening to throw yourself in, just to get attention — and the communion of saints is forever hauling you back, buckling your safety straps again, teaching you the same old rules of basic decency.
You’re called to love, stupidly, endlessly, outrageously. You think on the perfections of God, and then you see that you have been pouring your heart into people and things whose whole nature is to let you down. And after you realize this, your main responsibility is to love some more.
And you’re called to be loved. He loves you when you don’t want to be loved, and then He leaves you when you don’t want to be left. And when you don’t like it, that’s when you need to change.
The mercy of God comes like a flood. Not a warm bath: a flood.
You can go back and salvage some of your stuff, but you will not be living in that house again.
