We all know the name of Leo Tolstoy, but how many know that his literary masterpieces were created during a period of his life when he was increasingly disillusioned and, at times, drawn toward suicide? He had everything; however, he was not happy or at peace.
I have great respect for all within what we might loosely style “the truth movement.” The intellect is made to know the truth, just as the will is made to love and pursue the good. Still, many “truthers” consider themselves atheists. I had not intended to deal with the basic issue of God’s existence and our complete dependence upon Him, but the immeasurably scandalous behavior of those in high places has, understandably, left many with the idea that there could not possibly be a God, or at least a God who is concerned with the details of our lives. Although our intellect is our master faculty, our world view is formed by much more than dispassionate, intellectual activity. Life experiences, whether positive or negative, strongly influence how we see the world. With so much ugliness going unchallenged for so long, it is perfectly understandable that many are more or less agnostic. However, such a position is not only incorrect, it is radically opposed to reason and the evidence which we all experience each and every day, within ourselves and in the world all around us.
Leo Tolstoy went through a period of very intense doubt and despair. He was superior in mind and body (and education) to every single modern doubter I have come across, which is not to take away from any of them, yet he eventually found his way to the undeniable truth and the peace of heart that it alone can bring. As time permits I will be commenting upon excerpts from his powerfully written “A Confession,” but for now I will just provide a link to the entire text: