I’ve spent hours frittering away in college philosophy clubs, alongside people who use words like prolegomena and quiddity. These intellectual dignitaries purse their lips and allow their brows to crease neatly above their noses. They express thoughts like men with tweezers trying to extract splinters from the marble toes of the goddess of reason.
If you want to know what I learned from them, I can count it on one finger: Thinkers are terrified of this world.
The truth is, I don’t blame them. We — thinking, feeling, yearning life forms — are more than a little bit out of our depth.
We can’t walk out our front doors into the summer air without tiny creatures trying to suck our blood, while the authorities do nothing. Or without a flaming star leering at us so brightly that our skin spots and burns if we don’t coat ourselves in protection.
We’re that vulnerable. That small.
[Read the rest of the article at Christianity Today.]