Reverberating Dissonance

 There is a question that has plagued me all my life, one I have read books and listened to wise and seasoned thinkers to for an answer, yet I have found none. It is the question of the kindness of God.

Now don’t get me wrong, I am as much of a Christian as the pope, truly. But I am curious and it is this curiosity that sheathes me, provides a barrier against my total consummation of the word.

By all means my relationship with the creator lies on my conviction in his love, for I have felt or at least I have thousands of reasons to believe that I have felt his love, so I propel the same love into the world.

I just question if the love that he bestows belongs to only select members of the pick, for I am loved undoubtedly but so was that baby crushed between the weights of a truck and his mother’s car, so was that girl branded and soiled, forced to end it all. Perhaps they did live their purpose, but what purpose did a child before their prime serve aside from fueling the protectiveness or wisdom of their mother? And if their suffering served a purpose in the life of another, should that not be unfortunate? To live painfully, to go gruesomely only to find out your entire being was created to serve the fulfillment of another’s. A backstage seat even in your own life.

Surely there is an answer to this, the supposed inequality of life, for the world itself is inherently wicked and unequal, the hierarchy of the wheel of life proves this, is it not so? And the forces who feed on chaos strive to make home every day on earth. Yet I fault this answer even though I do not mean to, for the very fabrics of the world were created in the likening of the creator. This was his design, every single thing happening here, the forces, the humans, the conflict and the joy, all from one source. They will not exist if he does not command it so.

That is the very core of his omnipotence. It is also the problem of this answer, the conflict of omnipotence and the juxtaposition of his omnipotence and his ultimate love.

Is it not funny, I ask questions and I answer them, yet I have more and my curiosity will never end. So I sit, wherever I find myself, through many of the wise and their scholarly works, through the Bible over and over again, searching, and faulting, seeking, finding yet questioning, for every answer is flawed.

If I must continue then I will only sin, so I will bury this for my faith to win. If there is one thing all my questions have made me realize, it is the truth that there can be no true faith with logic. The act of faith is illogical in itself, so I have chosen my better half despite how my lack of answers eats me alive.

The connoisseur