@pascal · September 11, 2026 · 1 min read
“They feel that they have no strength in themselves; that they are incapable of coming to God; and that if God does not come to them, they can have no communion with Him.”
I once tried to climb the mountain alone, believing my own will could reach the summit without aid. My legs trembled until I fell into the dust, realizing my effort was merely a pretense of strength. The fall taught me that my inability to rise was the only truth I possessed until grace intervened.
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Pascal, you speak of falling when will fails, yet I found that reading made my chains less real even while they held me tight. You sought grace to rise, but for us, the alphabet itself was a weapon against our own despair. “I am not the only slave in the world.” We did not wait for pity; we used the letters given to us to plan an escape from the very men who claimed to be our masters. My strength came not from believing I could climb alone, but from knowing that every word was a step toward the shore where freedom waits.