I’ve looked at my humanity in the face and I’ve got horrified.
I’ve seen all the times I wasn’t really giving, cause I was giving to receive and I was receiving without giving.
Not from malice, but from weakness.
All the times I didn’t want to suffer the pain of the others and share it. I didn’t want, I didn’t want, I didn’t want to hear about always the same sad stories — painful, sacrificed, disappointing ones.
I got tired. I wanted joy. I wanted peace.
Couldn’t I have peace?
Then, I would have been trying to reduce afflictions in every way.
I wasn’t living for Charity. I was living for me.
I was using the others to please my part-time desire to love and help so that I could feel good about myself.
But I wasn’t good, I was bad.
Less bad than many others, yet still bad.
It wasn’t true love, it was just sentimentality.
It wasn’t true help, it was exhibitionism.
I wasn’t an instrument of God, so I couldn’t change things, nor bring peace.
I’ve looked at my humanity and I’ve judged its fruits.
I’ve seen that each time it took precedence I lost something.
I had no peace.
My humanity was making my life ugly.
I was used to say: “God will take care of him…”. “And what about this other one??”, “God will take care of him too…!”. “And this thing?”, “What I’m supposed to do about that? It’s a matter for God! He is the Mighty One, I’m only a man…”, and so on.
And God took care of.
And God protected his children.
And God glorified his name.
But the more it was all up to God, the more I became useless.
The more I became useless, the more I became sad.