You rack your brain to solve the mystery of the Savior, but you would do better to examine the puzzle of your own heart. You should be wondering why you are so impenetrable: why your intentions, which are always so noble, are followed by so few good deeds; why, despite your pious impulses, your life is so lacking in genuine devotion; why, when it comes to really getting things done, you turn out to be so feeble, so lame. You are always sighing, it is true, but to what effect?
