They really aren’t mysteries any more.
Those things that sometimes kept us awake at nights wondering, compelling us toward higher ground by casting us down to our knees. Too numerous to count, some musings appeared far too uncertain to be trustworthy or even minimally acceptable.
Yet there they were.
And they were just as real to us, just as practical, just as inviting as the local coffee shop. Their existence seemed always to point toward a way out, convincing us of our rectitude.
But drowning in information, we are now too afraid to breathe. When every question can be unlocked by a fingerprint, imagination finds itself hiding somewhere beyond the next offering of fact. Speculation long ago became an anomaly, and doubt itself is enough to be feared.
Yet we probably still sense that not every answer is necessary, not every data set worthwhile, not every mystery need be quickly solved.
If only we can remember how to trust.
Image Credit: Pixabay
Return to The Catholic Conspiracy