“My people have exchanged their glory for that which does not profit.” — Jeremiah 2:11
Modern man has not only rejected God but has lost himself, trading his divine birthright for the empty glow of a world that is not real.—D.
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True life is not found in an armchair, nor in the heavy weight of wealth, which only feeds the hunger for more. It is not in the lawmakers who spin their webs, nor in the chase of pleasure that ends in dust. To be truly human—to dig deep into the bone of what we are—is to turn from the shallows, to reject the thin comforts of a world that trades truth for ease. We were not made for this brittle life, this dim-lit struggle for things that do not last. We were made in the likeness of Christ, shaped for something greater, something real.
St. Athanasius spoke of this long ago: when men rid themselves “of the thought of God,” they are “forever deprived of being.” This is the great loss of our time—not only a turning from God, but a turning from ourselves. Man, unmoored from his Maker, unravels. He sells his birthright for nothing, trading his place in eternity for what crumbles underfoot.
And now, it is not even dust he clings to, but images of dust—simulations, glowing screens, lives constructed in the half-light of a world that does not exist. He is not only enslaved to the material, but to shifting shapes within it, to things that pass through his hands like mist. The hum of machines sings him to sleep, the flickering light blinds him to the stars, and he forgets. He forgets who he is. He forgets the God who made him.
This is the sickness of our time—not only the loss of truth, but the loss of memory itself. Yet there is still time to wake. There is still time to remember.