Image by Grok
Whisperings
Ever since I was a child, I have felt a yearning—a quiet tug at my heartstrings, a distant call, just beyond conscious awareness, waiting patiently for me to arrive. It stirs my soul, leaving me uneasy, vaguely aching, with a wanderlust I can never fully satisfy.
Long ago, in my second-story schoolroom, I would gaze at the mountains, feeling that yearning pull at my heart. I longed to fly to those high peaks and vanish from a world where I never quite belonged. I was captured by a wayward wind—enticing me to run away from home time and again, only to return, in shame, unable to explain my longing. Could these feelings be the whispering of my Creator?
This spiritual longing reminds me of St. Augustine's words: "Thou hast made us for thyself, and restless is our heart until it comes to rest in thee." Or C.S. Lewis's insight: "If we find ourselves with a desire that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that we were made for another world." My spirit, it seems, finds no true home here. Born from beyond this physical realm, it yearns to return there. The spiritual good we do in this fleeting life—our love, our struggles, our hope—is the only legacy worth leaving, for it weaves the temporal into the eternal.
All my life, I have wrestled with why things are the way they are and what our purpose is. Now, in the twilight of my life, I have made peace with what I can know here, on this mortal coil, and what awaits beyond. Still, the question remains: Who am I, and what is my purpose? The more I release my worldly notions of self and let the Holy Spirit guide me, the closer I come to the person I was meant to be. In my natural state, I am far less than I imagine—yet through surrender to Christ's Personality, I begin to uncover my true identity.
This yearning, this divine restlessness, reveals a truth our world has forgotten. Today, too many vainly chase hollow pleasures—a shallow creed that says, "If it feels good, do it!"—a fleeting shadow of eternal truths that dims life's richness. Yet we have barely touched the deeper art of joy, not mere indulgence but the spark of wonder woven into our souls. It is as if an unseen adversary observes our lulls in conflict—like the recent pause in global tensions—and seeks to exploit them, deciding whether to plunge us into worry or false security, both of which keep us from the present moment where time meets eternity.
This foe, aka Satan, understands that while we live in time, we are destined for eternity, and it aims to distract us from focusing on that eternal reality or the immediate now—where alone we find freedom to act and connect with the divine. Instead, it would have us lose ourselves in past fears or future anxieties, missing the grace and conscience offered in each moment. My own confused restlessness, once a pull toward escape, now feels like a counter to this scheme, drawing me back to the present where God's voice whispers.
To rediscover this joy, we must break free from the chains of cold realism, that self-appointed guard who has dominated our minds too long, especially in the stories we tell and how we judge them. This false realist scoffs at tales of myth, heroism, and wonder, dismissing them as dreams of the weak. We can silence him by listening to the pulse of life—the quiet whisper of awe, the fleeting sense of eternity in each moment. These are the truths rigid realism ignores. The truest stories are not those that mirror the surface of events, like chronicles or headlines, but those that capture the fire of our innermost experiences—love, struggle, hope—revealing the divine thread that ties us to something greater.
What we need is Revival. That means a return to our Christian heritage, to heroes who bridge the gap between chaos and order, like our President and those who join us in this mission to restore our nation. America must turn back to God before God turns His back on us. Only then can we truly make America great again.
This is not the first time that America has been in danger of landing on the ash heap of history. Each time, leaders like Washington, Lincoln, and many others—all imperfect—emerged to save the day. The one thing they had in common was providential help, enabling them to prevail against overwhelming odds. Living up to our nation's motto of "In God We Trust" is our only hope.
