My doubts

My doubts about what I hope for are like clouds in more ways than their transience. They are also less substantial than my hopes. But what, then, are my hopes? Are they the stars behind the clouds? Doubt feels heavy because of proximity. Clouds are near; stars are not.

Stars and clouds—which is hiding which? Neither, obviously. That becomes clear when one or the other dominates your life. When death and evil reign, you know them to be real. When life and goodness reign, you know that reality as well. The difficulty arises when sin and godliness are intermingled in us. In that mixture, we are tempted toward agnosticism about the reality of either—especially when a shallow, but widely accepted, naturalism offers an account of the same mixed experience.