I just finished C.S. Lewis' A Grief Observed, and it was a really moving and easy read. At one point, Lewis talks about all his efforts, everything he's ever felt or worked for, in the end amounting to a castle of cards, a castle the world--and even God sometimes--destroys over and over and over; but it never keeps him from building another card castle.
I guess we all are like Lewis: building castles with feeble cards, only to watch them crash to the ground, and then start building again. I must love building castles, because, frankly, I cannot stop. I think the last castle I built up must have taken me a long time. Lots of levels and decorations and stuff. I think I was really proud of it, too, and probably even felt safe inside. But like always, my card castles end up spending their time collapsing. Now, awake in the infinite cold, looking at the ruins of that castle, it's amazing that I thought it would ever stand up. All the pieces look so weak. They were new pieces, though! Pieces you could really get excited about! Crisp, clean, brand-spankin-new pieces! But paper.
"My idea of God is not a divine idea. It has to be shattered time after time. He shatters it Himself. He is the great iconoclast. Could we not almost say that this shattering is one of the marks of His presence?" (Lewis)
Damn, I sure hope so.
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