One of those struggling no-accounts and castabouts who succumb daily to the world's humanistic sophistry in pursuit of a fantastical, all-consumptive wealth. I am convinced by all I see around me that I am obligated to accrue some measure of worth extralimital to dwelling in God's grace - as if true worth is something that can scraped by our own ineffectual struggles from the bottom of some universal pot of fortune - but in reality we are dragging our nets through a cesspool where one can only finds brewing only the potent poisons of nihilist desperation, myopic ambition, and a seductive, sickly sweet aromatic cloud of vapors which elicits hallucinations of happiness which quickly fade in the hard light of the truth.
Recently more than ever I have been knocked upon my back and have fallen repeatedly; been broken upon the reality of my complete personal failure to capture that mythical creature called "Happiness" and in this dark and compromised place, I find a strange and most unexpected revelation not only of God's love, but also His sense of humor when I see that I've been striving in vain to carry a small bundle of pebbles up a steep hill, fully convinced that I can use them to build a house once I reach the lofty mountaintop.
But upon falling all the way down again, I awake from my desperate fantasy to find that what I seek on that mountaintop cannot be found anyplace except in God's perfect, inestimable plan. At first I feel only mortal chagrin, but when at long last I come to a place of acceptance of my heavenly Father's gentle remonstrances, I find a peace that passes all my understanding.
