Tonight, I ran until my lungs burned, until the blood pounded in my ears and my head ached, until I was lightheaded and momentarily lost myself in the inky blackness of the Tennessee night.
And yet, I still cannot think clearly.
At a library book sale on Saturday, I found a nondescript paperback from the 1960's that argued how evolution - and science in general - was myth, and that myth was man's way of asserting control over a universe which controlled him. Three sentences into the book, and I knew it was garbage. But I bought it anyway, knowing that someday it would have some kind of campy value to it. In the distant future, someone will read the statement about how the premise of "every effect must have a cause" indicates that, if the universe began as one tiny little speck, that speck must have had the same weight as the whole universe does today. This was the 1960's, mind you - we already knew about the mass-energy relation. Well, everyone knew except that author.
If salvation is truly a "gift," then we need do nothing. We need not even barter: I "let Jesus into my heart" and God saves me. A deal - in other words, a barter - is not the same as a gift. So even the evangelicals who rant and rave that it is "salvation by faith, not by works" implicitly demand at least one little "work" for it to be true.
I am unbearably tired sometimes. The entire weekend was spent in a dream, sleepwalking, unable to wake and uncertain what awaited me once I did. It was a disconcerting feeling.
Scotland is a far distance from Colorado. But that won't matter if I never manage to make it there.