“Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” —Matthew 11:28
Modern man has fled the silence where Christ waits, trading wisdom for noise and calling it freedom, yet still Christ calls. —D.
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Who is this modern man? He has abandoned the river of his ancestors, scorning the wisdom that watered generations. The old paths lie in ruin, burned by the fires of pride and forgetfulness. He drifts unmoored, unshaped, refusing the Potter’s hands and yielding instead to the chisels of ideologues eager to make him in their image. He calls himself a seeker but seeks only distraction, running from the silence where Christ still waits. The altar in his heart stands cold, yet he bows again and again to passing idols that cannot speak, cannot save.
He boasts of freedom, yet lives as a slave: to impulse, to appetite, to desires cut loose from any anchor in the true, the good, the beautiful. He demands rights but despises responsibility. He scoffs at Christ’s gentle yoke, only to find himself crushed beneath the iron burden of self-rule. To him, the world is not God’s garden but a lab bench for endless tinkering without reverence, without wonder. Beauty confounds him. Mystery enrages him. He mocks those who kneel, even as he kneels before glowing screens and graven algorithms.
He is a man of glass and wires. His hands hold data, but no wisdom. His heart is crammed with trivia, but cannot hear the still, small voice. And yet Christ calls, Come to Me, all who are weary. The voice has not faded. The Shepherd has not left His post. But this man must turn, must listen, must fall to his knees because in the silence he flees, the Son of God still waits, ready to make him whole.