apathy.

The words of Søren Kierkegaard convict me, move me. Written a century and a half ago, this passage (On The Wickedness of The Age) speaks truer today than anything I've read recently.

Let others complain that the age is wicked; my complaint is that it is wretched, for it lacks passion. Men's thoughts are thin and flimsy like lace, they are themselves pitiable like the lacemakers. The thoughts of their hearts are too paltry to be sinful. For a worm it might be regarded as a sin to harbor such thoughts, but not for a being made in the image of God. Their lusts are dull and sluggish, their passions sleepy. They do their duty, these shopkeeping souls, but they clip the coin a trifle...they think that even if the Lord keeps ever so careful a set of books, they may still cheat Him a little. Out upon them! This is the reason my soul always turns back to the Old Testament and to Shakespeare. I feel that those who speak there are at least human beings; they hate, they love, they murder their enemies and curse their descendants throughout all generations, they sin.

God save me from my own apathy.

More thoughts from Blaise Pascal on the matter of lethargy of the soul, but perhaps in a different dose. Check back.