When all is well it’s easy to confess
Your goodness Lord, but when you disappear
Capriciously ignoring our distress
You leave behind despair and numbing fear.
Where now the gracious Giver of all good gifts?
Why now the bleak, soul-searing ache of Absence?
The mind has cliffs of fall with deeps and drifts:
Small certainties dissolve, and former sense.
Is it because, when Present, we try to tame you,
And so, for that, you’re nowhere to be found?
We know, when Absent, we cannot even name you,
But only then our faith finds firmer ground?
If by your Absence you deem we profit more,
Forbid us pray your Presence to restore.
—Thomas H. Bast
JD Vance States the Obvious About Ordo Amoris
We are living, it scarcely needs saying, in unpredictable times. But no one could have imagined that…
Thinking Twice About Re-Enchantment
Since the Enlightenment and the scientific revolution, the story goes, we’ve lived more and more in a…
The Bible Throughout the Ages
The latest installment of an ongoing interview series with contributing editor Mark Bauerlein. Bruce Gordon joins in…