I'm currently writing a literary analysis paper on "Gooseberries" by Anton Chekhov. One of the reoccuring themes of Chekhov's writing is the pursuit of ultimate happiness and satisfaction. His characters search in everything, from sex to taking care of someone to gooseberries plants and never quite find what they are looking for. They find moments of contement, moments of purpose and meaning. But yet still something is lacking. The quest of the characters is a reflection, naturally, of Chekhov's own search for significance and satisfaction, which to the end of his life only tastes in fleeting incriments.
As a Christian, a believer in the Lord Jesus Christ, I know where ultimate contentment, satisfaction and purpose can be found. I hope in the fact that I no longer have to search for significance because my meaning rests in one who will never change, my heart is secure. The picture above is from a cathedral in Portugal in a city called Fatima. People from all over Europe make yearly pilgramages there to pay tribute to the Virgin Mary and seek some sort of reconciliation from their current offences. They crawl on their knees for miles and burn meter long candels in search of deliverance and forgiveness.
I'm both rejoicing in the hope that I have right now, and sitting here heart broken for the people crawling on their knees in search of the very hope that I have. I guess the next question I ask myself is, what am I doing with my hope?
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