Apathy is convincing ourselves that we can’t change things. Oddly enough, faith is convincing ourselves of the same thing. However, the defining difference is that apathy places the onus of change on us, while faith places the onus of change on God working through us.

In an apathetic world, change is not about the fact that we actually changed something. Rather, it’s far more about the fact that we actually decided to change something.

If ‘what is’ defines my view of the world, then ‘what could be’ will become an ideal with no breath of life in it. Hence, I refuse to leave something so lofty without the ability to breath, for once it is breathing it will start running. And I can think of few things more electrifying as an ideal that is running over ‘what is’ as it is raising up ‘what will be.

If you view the claims of God as outrageous, it’s because your vision is far too tame and your apathy is way too strong.

Apathy is giving up when we need to get up.

I’m not looking for a road to walk. Rather, I’m looking for a path to create. For creating a path shapes men, while walking a road simply appeases them.

I have never walked the broad byways of life without eventually regretting the fact that I foolishly bypassed those slight paths obscured by the tangled overgrowth of life. For in doing so I swapped adventure for apathy.

I might define a ‘journey’ as something that life itself calls me to. And I might then define a ‘trip’ as something I create to avoid a journey by mimicking a journey. And while fear is most certainly part and parcel of both, the latter is emboldened by fear while the former surrenders to it.

If I am living out a lesser version of myself, I have allowed the fear of ‘who I could be’ to fall prey to the apathy of ‘who I am.’ And if ‘what I could be’ dies the death of cowardice, ‘who I am’ never really lived at all.