I thought I felt a blog post coming on. It was going to be poignant, thoughtful, relevant and well researched. Frankly, it was quite possibly going to be life changing to all that read it.
But then the icy hand of dread gripped me and choked out all my ambition. “This too is meaningless” rattled around in my brain, until I was convinced of it. The futility of life, desire, and ambition absorbed my being. What is its purpose? Simply the enjoyment of the moment? Isn’t that merely fleeting? Is there a greater relevance to it?
The more I pondered, the less I desired the write that blog post. Who’s going to read it anyways, and if they do, so what? If it did in fact change lives, what utility is that to me, or even to them? Aren’t they in essentially the same circumstance as me, ultimately plodding onward towards imminent and and yet unforeseen death?
So I didn’t write that blog post. I decided it really was meaningless.
And despite it all, He is still good.