Listening to his sermon about the miracle of grace

Then I settled deep concerns about just that
his father was saying. Listening to his sermon about the miracle of grace, I was always thinking about
my experience. Everything he said sounded trite and empty, as history,
narrated by hearsay man, not quite believing it. I would want him
to help but didn't know how. Besides, I was too wrapped up to share with
the father of their experience, or to interfere in his personal matters. I felt, on the one
hand, too small on the other - was afraid of his own power, me
authoritarianism racked up my second "I".
 Much later, eighteen year old boy, I often argued with my father and
always harbored a secret hope that I would be able to tell him about the miracle of grace and
thus will help him. I had confidence that, if he
fulfill God's will, it would be better. But our controversy does not end. They
it annoyed and upset me. "You always want to think, - he resented, -
and must not think but believe." I mentally objected to him: "No, needs to know and
to understand". But aloud said, "now give me that faith." He shrugged
his shoulders and turned away in despair.
 I had friends in mostly they were shy, timid guys
of the common people. At school I made progress and later even became the best student.
But I noticed that those who have studied worse, I was jealous of and tried in any
possible to achieve the same success. It spoiled the mood. I hated
any kind of a race condition, not played games that required certainly
to win, I prefer to remain second. School classes were already
quite tedious. However, very few teachers I
I remember with gratitude, found in me a special ability. First of all
it was  teacher of Latin language University Professor and wise
people. It so happened that the Latin I was taught from the age of six, the father was involved with
me, and instead of classes this teacher often sent me to University
the library for textbooks. I chose the longest path, pulling
as far as possible his return.
 But most teachers considered me narrow-minded and is able to arrange
all sorts of tricks. When at school something happened, had no idea how
the rule, me. If somewhere started the brawl, I thought
instigator. In  actually, I only once took part in
brawl, when it became clear to me that many classmates treat me
hostile. They attacked me from behind, I was flying. Then, in my fifteen
years, I was a big and strong teenager, and I was having
a sudden rage. Angry, I grabbed with both hands and one of them,
turning around, hit him with the legs of a few others. Teachers all
learned, but I only vaguely recall any punishment that seemed
unfair. Since the day I was left alone, no one else
dared to pick a fight with me.
 I was surprised to learn that I have enemies. But it was
understandable. Reprimands, was naturally irritated, but not
seemed unfair. I knew a little about yourself, and that little was so
contradictory that I could probably recognize any guilt. And
indeed, I always felt guilty, knowing all of their obvious and
concealed defects. Because of this I was particularly sensitive to the censure:
they all basically hit the target. Not doing actually what
I was accused, I knew what could be done. I even wrote down his alibi
in case I was in any way suspect. Was much easier when I
actually committed evil deeds. Then I at least knew what
my fault.
 Of course, his lack of self-confidence I compensated external
confidence, or - better said - the lack of compensated for itself without a
my will. I felt guilty and innocent at the same time. After all, in the depths
in my heart I always knew that I coexist two people. One was the son of
my parents, he went to school and was stupid, lazy, neraleemany.
Another, by contrast, was an adult - even an old - sceptical, mistrustful.
Retiring from people he was close to nature, the earth, the sun, the moon; he knows
were all living beings, none more so than nightlife and dreams. In other words,
all he found "the living God". Here I have intentionally made the word "God"
in quotes, because the nature, and self, seemed to be separated from Him,
nebraskai. However, she was created by him and was His act. In
my head did not fit, that the expression "in the image and likeness of God"
should be applicable to humans. I thought what mountains, rivers, lakes,
beautiful trees, flowers and animals with great might be called a God
the similarities than men with their ridiculous clothes, their stupidity and
vanity, mendacity and abhorrent egotism - all that I
well recognized in myself, in my "number 1", the schoolboy of 1890. But
there was another world, and it was like a temple, where everyone forgets himself,
surprise and delight comprehending the perfection of God's creation. In this world
lived my "other" who knew God in ourselves, knew It as secret, even though it
not only was his secret. There, in this world, nothing separated man from
God. There everything was as if the human spirit was with God at the same time and looked
together with Him on all created by.
 What I present here, then I would not be able to Express intelligible,
although deeply felt. At such moments I knew I was worthy of her. I was
by himself. But only loneliness gave me that feeling, and I was looking for peace and
privacy for your "other".
 This game is a confrontation between the two incarnations of my personality lasted
all my life, but it has nothing to do with what doctors call
pathological disintegration personality. On the contrary, this happens to all men,
and, above all, in regard to religion, which in my "other life"
- the inner life - is of paramount importance. "Other" ("room 2") -
a typical figure, but she recognized very few.