I know how you felt, Martin, niggled in turn by hope and fear, longing to be part of something great and ready to suffer or sacrifice— yet still bartering for some guarantee.
I’ve also craved approval, respect, a little kindness from the world. I’ve offered mankind my evidences, half-turned and ready to run at first sign of smirk,
and I have failed to do what I knew was right because I wouldn’t relinquish what I wanted even though it was never mine to begin with.
So I don’t wonder at your faults now held up as warning to future generations of saints, but at your persistence:
how you returned and returned hat in hand, abashed witness to a Father’s infinite mercy.
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