Ever-living

I wonder if most people realize when they are making choices and decisions based upon fears and insecurities, when they are using logic or passion or reason as an excuse to turn away from a introspective clarity of self. There's a certain perverse pleasure in giving into fear, to the shedding of responsiblity from our shoulders and eliminating the possiblity of failure. That pleasure almost tastes sickly-sweet, an addiction that we grow more dependant upon because of its simple familiarity. I don't believe anyone ever truly enjoys taking the safe road, it is only a question of which takes greater credence: the courage to hope and have faith, or the fear of making perceived unforgivable mistakes.

And if anyone ever does realize when they choose the easy, safe way out because of fear, do they ever learn to stop themselves?

There's a joy, a beauty to risking our faith. Faith does not exist for us to hold onto, for us to clasp preciously to our hearts and covet like a treasured jewel, murmuring empty words of contentment and praise. Faith exists for us to use, to taste, to hear and to sing. Faith exists for us to throw out into the wild unknown, trusting that it will not return to us but instead carry us along with it. That is a living faith, a breathing faith, that is Praise in its greatest beauty. It's a wild, passionate journey that will break and encourage and temper and refine our hearts; it is a choice that may not always taste sweet, but will always be clean.