Parable of the Letter

I had it all set in my mind to post another passage from one of Peter's letters, but I've been reflecting lately on how one hears God's voice. SoulFoodDude had some questions which I believe everyone needs to answer.

At any rate I came across this passage in Either/Or this week and I find it relevant to the same task. Kierkegaard frequently writes on three or four levels at the same time, and there have been several times in my life where this passage has been on my mind:

If someone possessed a letter which he knew or believed contained information concerning what he had to consider his life's blessedness, but the written characters were thin and faded, the handwriting almost illegible, he would read it and reread it, with anxiety and disquiet certainly, but with passion.

At one moment he would get one meaning out of it, the next another. When he was quite sure he had managed to read a word, he would interpret everything in the light of that word.

But he would never pass beyond the same uncertainty with which he began. He would stare, more and more anxiously, but the more he stared the less he saw; sometimes his eyes filled with tears, but the more that happened, again the less he saw. In due course the writing became weaker and less distinct; finally the paper itself crumbled away and he had nothing left but his eyes blinded with tears.

Either/Or. Penguin Classics. p. 187

Life presents us with difficult choices.

As humans I find we tend to lean on outward observation, general opinion, and the so-called assurance of the experts. In this confidence I often feel like something is slipping away. It's something difficult to describe, and like everything valuable it is seldom appreciated until it is gone.