But speaking of God, I do not know why I am being Apostate. I know my predicament is not really of Divine Origin, except I really can’t see what good [God] can do for me. The outcome of the last battle may be predetermined, but I will still die (which I am not going to mind, except [probably] for those last moments [right before] death. That is [probably] the [most] terrible part.) And I will still probably be chewed up by evil forces. God will not triumph until the end. The Triumph is the End. In the meantime, all the things are working out as dictated by the Laws of Physics. Everything else I just have to get over.

No, yes, everything I fear is inevitable, but it is still up to me to stand up when I need to, even though I know I will be forced down. All beauty stems from improbability, effervesence, the fact that it will end, the fact that everything is ultimately futile, and there are still a thousand thousand days to pass, to fill with beauty.

I still have not given up the idea that He is watching me in disapproval, but what can I do? I can’t expect Him to just show up and tell me what a horrible job I’m doing….

…I am too young to surrender myself wholly. I [think of] Galileo: “I do not feel obliged to believe that the same God who has endowed us with sense, reason, and intellect has intended us to forgo their use.”

Deliver me from mindlessness, make me worry about all my decisions. Do not let me offer up laziness and ill-thought up in your name. Make me gasp for faith as a man committing suicide by drowning gasps for air: unwilling to take it in, but [being driven viscerally to take a breath].

Faith is not to be easy. It is the piece of driftwood floating in the ocean when it’s dark, you don’t know where you are, and there are sharks in the water.

To have faith, you must doubt;… to have light, there must be darkness.