An Anchor in the Waves: The Old Me Is Never Coming Back
It’s been interesting to observe the development in the way that people have reacted to my conversion to the Catholic faith. 1 year ago, on public statement of my plan to be received in the Church, I was met with near universal service if not encouragement by people of different belief systems. The more I spent Catholic, the further I discovered that the same people that were supportive began to flip me, one by one. Their criticisms of me have ranged from rebukes to contempt and mockery — but with the exact same complaint.
I decided I was going to be Catholic, and that I supposed it, and I guess that is the problem. From what I believe — as I heard them with increased depth and comprehension, I just vocalized truths as time moved on, I never professed another variant of Catholicism. Could that be the natural progression for any man who professes adherence to some worldview that is out himself? Apparently not! I discovered fast that in the world’s opinion, I was welcome to think whatever I desired, provided I never thought my beliefs were accurate.
Take this quotation by humanist New Testament scholar Bart
Allow me to also stress I don’t feel that all religion is oppressive and that I am not opposed to faith . I also feel that people ought to be free to embrace whatever spiritual or non-religious views they select whether they are Christian, Jewish, Buddhist, Hindu, Muslim, Pagan, agnostic, humanist, or atheist, as long as they do not utilize their spiritual or non-religious views to flourish, oppress, or hurt others. I’m opposed to each sort of fundamentalism and also to strident ideology Though I am not opposed to religion.
It’s easy for me to forget that not everyone presumes that one fact needs to exist and that anything which contradicts this one truth must therefore be fictitious . Although I stuck to get a time to a sort of pseudo-Teilhardian nightmare of collective human evolution toward fact (mostly because of fear that the fact may be unknowable within an individual level), I never guessed that one truth must exist.
In our era, in which the great majority of us are infected by Modernism starting virtually in infancy, it’s easy to shed sight of the simplest fundamentals of logic. I accepted the idea of objective truth in concept, probably in no small part due to my dad’s Eastern Orthodox influence in my formative years, and nevertheless, in my practice, I cast myself into the damning fires of vital immanence.
Divine Revelation was useful to me. It supplied props and costumes to infuse my story into humanity’s great epic, or to tell my story in detail. I took that which was useful and ignored the remainder in whichever faith I had been”exploring” at the time. I started the process anew and proceeded on to another religion — because it did when I understood exotic-and-trendy Islam is morally repulsive or the old-and-mystical Wicca was invented in the 20th century — when this approach became hopeless. It had been an exhausting way to live.
I had never heard of Saint Thomas Aquinas’s disagreements for the necessity of Divine Revelation. The very idea of Divine Revelation since Divine Revelation was lost on me, regardless of my upbringing. I tried to string together a raft amid the tempest since the magnificent Ark sailed by, blinded to my Savior always reaching out His hand to pull me into quiet, warmth, and safety.
The Truth would like to be known. This was what I had to understand, and it was only by the grace of God that I ever came to this realization. And wouldn’t Truth need to get known? The sun will grow While I awaken in the early hours. While I knock a mug off the desk, it is going to fall below the ground. It appears that chaos is about us, but the hectic events of and nature life fall to an order. This is inescapable. Everything we encounter points for this when it can be difficult to determine .
Months before my transformation, I saw Michael Knowles of the Daily Wire tweet which”Constraint breeds imagination.” I have scarcely seen a use of three words! When artwork was restricted to aesthetic standards, we created things, and we understood they were beautiful. When art was freed of them, we worked to convince ourselves and scribbled like gorillas that were trained. We see this exact identical collapse happening in fashion, and architecture, music, etiquette, to mention nothing.
Would the way we believe, and the manner in which we should think, be different? If the matters surfaced sequence , why do Truth Himself fall quiet? This is simple to get a child to grasp and also nearly impossible for the philosophers we’ve become. The mark of intelligence today is to become “free-thinker,” not to be mistaken with a truth-seeker, for they discuss no commonality.
Even a”free-thinking” man is smart only insofar as he disdains orderas his coffee mug drops into the ground and the afternoon sunlight shines on. A”free-thinking” man believes he is better off since he is not restricted by dogma. He does not need to deign to match his ideas because he has all of them, he’s nothing, and he also has them all. He’s his own god, and also a god, for he is the very first to admit that he is not infallible and might be wrong about anything and maybe everything!
A recent correspondence from a former colleague and friend, very considerate and very depressing, finished with this:”We miss the older Stef. The dogmatic one” Well, I don’t miss her, and I’m afraid she is never coming back. That I do not miss my independence from dogma, although I miss folks I miss communities I used to be a part of. I really don’t miss grasping in the dark, desperate to figure out if the sky is purple and what I had to know about being human, so draining my limited emotional and intellectual energy.
I love my morning coffee, I watch the attractiveness of the new sun of your day, I think about things that matter, and that I always try my very best to create things which are lovely. It’s not my job to help folks get comfy because they drown in a abyss of confusion and relativism. It took 25 years for me to fulfill a single Catholic who troubled to stretch out a hand. It could be spitting in the face of my Savior to perform the same if I know closely how it feels if your spirit is dead.
Above all, I will continue to rejoice at the gentle chains that bind me. No matter how tough life has, I have the Truth, therefore I’ve got everything. That is dogma. That’s real freedom. After a lifetime adrift, it seems pretty wonderful to have an anchor in waves.
The article An Anchor in the Waves: The Old Me Is Never Coming Back appeared on OnePeterFive.