As society continues to marvel at their own self-contradiction, and winter forthwith continues to blow frigid gusts of depravity into our icy veins, one cannot henceforth press onward without asking the question that is crying out for an answer: Why?

A question that has long been ridiculed by academia; long been excluded by post-modernism as an illusory teleological question that serves no purpose except to bask in its own absurdity; yet notwithstanding, a question that is still asked daily by the beggar on the street, the single mother in the kitchen, and the recovering addict in the halfway house. Why?

Have we traded in truth for self-gratifying illusions? Have we constructed an idolatrous house, cornerstoned on the depths of our own depravity wherein we can freely frolic in our sin knowing full well that the entire world has gone mad, and our impending destruction is well nigh fruition? Forsooth! We have slaughtered Purity, and drank her blood; we have massacred Virtue and feasted on her flesh; we have slit the throat of Truth and left her there to suffer–utterly intoxicated on our own perversion, as we bathe in the odious filth that we like to call freedom.

What a strange world we live in. Indeed, it is not my home.

“Father in Heaven! Hold not our sins up against us but hold us up against our sins so that the thought of You when it wakens in our soul, and each time it wakens, should not remind us of what we have committed but of what You did forgive, not of how we went astray but of how You did save us!”

–Søren Kierkegaard

Take heart, saints. The winter is almost over, and spring is almost here.

-b