Photo courtesy of Flickr Creative Commons Photo taken by: BrianMKA
Note: Giving testimony to my personal beliefs about God, religion and spirituality is not something I do easily. I worry about offending others. I’m no theologian. I struggle to hold on to a faith that I often question. So, in writing this and publishing it here, I take a leap of faith. This wrote itself. Much of it lies beyond my powers of logical and rational thought. It is what it is. I feel compelled to share it by something deep within. It might be God or the complicated mental gymnastics of a part-time narcissist. In desperation, I lash my soul to a mast I call, God. It’s what gets me through the day, through a life. It is all I have.
Lately, I’ve given a lot of thought to being a victim. . . more accurately the experience or feeling of being a victim. As fate would have it, I also started a new book last night. It’s called Insurrection and it’s by Peter Rollins. The basic premise of the book is summed up on the cover with the words:
To believe is human to doubt, divine.
At first glance this book and the experience of being a victim aren’t obviously linked. Yet, some how in the deeper regions of my being the two ideas have merged into a shocking epiphany. When I got up this morning and in between a bowl of cereal and my coffee, I pick up the book and read one paragraph.