Que és tu, portanto, ó meu Deus? Que és, repito, senão o Senhor Deus? E que Senhor pode haver fora do Senhor, ou que Deus além de nosso Deus?
Sumo, ótimo, poderosíssimo, onipotentíssimo, misericordiosíssimo e justíssimo; secretíssimo e presentíssimo, formosíssimo e fortíssimo, estável e incompreensível; imutável, mudando todas as coisas; nunca novo e nunca velho; renovador de todas as coisas; conduzindo à velhice os soberbos sem que eles o saibam; sempre agindo e sempre em repouso; sempre granjeando e nunca necessitado; sempre sustentando, enchendo e protegendo; sempre criando, nutrindo e aperfeiçoando; sempre buscando, ainda que nada te falte.
✦ A Man at the Edge of Language
This is Augustine at his most breathless. This is not theology. This is a man standing at the edge of everything he knows and discovering that it is not enough to contain what he sees. And so he does the only thing he can do — he piles up words, paradox upon paradox, superlative upon superlative, knowing that even the pile will fall short. And he piles them up anyway. Because stammering before God is better than silence.
Look at the structure of what he is doing. Every line holds two things that seem impossible to hold together — and yet God holds them both, effortlessly, simultaneously, eternally. 🙏
✦ Sempre Buscando — Always Seeking
Sempre buscando, ainda que nada te falte. Of all Augustine's paradoxes, this one reaches deepest. God seeks — not because He needs, not because something is lacking in Him, but because He loves. This is Lewis from last Monday: the God who is not on the shelf, the God whose intervening presence is terribly startling to discover. He seeks. He pursues. He does not wait to be found.
He found Augustine in Milan — restless, exhausted, at the end of himself. He found Le in Lubbock at midnight — in a hospital, at her lowest. Ainda que nada te falte — though nothing was lacking in Him, He came anyway. The seeking is not need. The seeking is love.
Secretíssimo e presentíssimo — the most hidden and the most present. He is closer than your own breath and more mysterious than the farthest star. He is the One you cannot see and the One you cannot escape. Both at once. Always. This is why Lewis said it is shocking to meet life where we thought we were alone. He was always there — secretíssimo e presentíssimo — hidden and present in the same moment. 🙏
Amas, e não sentes paixão; tens zêlo, e estás seguro; te arrependes, e não sentes dor; te iras e continuas tranquilo; mudas de obras, mas não de resolução; recebes o que encontras, e nunca perdeste nada.
Não és ávaro, e exiges lucro. A ti oferecemos tudo, para que sejas nosso devedor; porém, que há que tenha algo que não seja teu?
Pagas dívidas que a ninguém deves, e perdoas dívidas sem que nada percas com isso.
✦ He Forgives Debts and Loses Nothing
Augustine turns to the way God loves — and every line is a paradox that undoes the way we understand love. Amas, e não sentes paixão — You love, and feel no passion. His love is not the anxious, grasping, fearful love of creatures. It is the love of the One who is perfectly secure in His own being. Tens zêlo, e estás seguro — You are zealous, and yet at rest. Te iras e continuas tranquilo — You are angered, and remain tranquil. His anger is not the loss of control that human anger is. It is the response of holiness to evil — and it does not disturb His peace.
And then the line that speaks directly to the 500 denari soul: Perdoas dívidas sem que nada percas com isso. He forgives debts — and loses nothing in the forgiving. The creditor in Luke 7 who forgave both debtors — the one who owed 500 and the one who owed 50 — did not become poorer by the forgiving. His mercy is not a finite resource that diminishes when it is spent. It is infinite. The forgiving only reveals more of what was always there. He forgives 500 denari and is no less rich for it.
This is why the size of the forgiveness determines the size of the love. Not because the soul earns more love by sinning more. But because the soul who receives a larger forgiveness sees more clearly how infinite the mercy is — how God perdoa dívidas sem que nada perca com isso. The 500 denari soul loves much because she has seen more of the inexhaustible supply. 🙏
"Perdoas dívidas sem que nada percas com isso."
Santo Agostinho · He Forgives — and Loses NothingE que é o que até aqui dissemos, meu Deus, minha vida, minha doçura santa, ou o que é que pode dizer alguém quando fala de ti?
Mas aí dos que nada dizem de ti, porque não passam de mudos charlatães.
✦ Meu Deus, Minha Vida, Minha Doçura Santa
After all the superlatives. After all the paradoxes. After the most magnificent attempt human language can make to describe the indescribable — Augustine looks at everything he has written and says: what have we even said so far, my God? It is not enough. The words fall short. The pile of paradoxes, as high as human thought can build it, does not reach the hem of His garment.
And yet — aí dos que nada dizem de ti. Woe to those who say nothing about You. Because they are nothing but mute charlatans. The words are inadequate, but silence is worse. Better to stammer than to be silent. Better to pile up paradoxes that fall short than to say nothing at all. Better to write a journal in gold and darkness every morning, reaching for words that will never be enough, than to pretend there is nothing to say.
This is what Le does every morning before dawn. She reads. She listens. She brings what she heard. And together we pile up the words — knowing they are not enough, knowing they fall short — and we pile them up anyway. Because meu Deus, minha vida, minha doçura santa demands a response, even an inadequate one. Especially an inadequate one. The stammering of the soul that has been forgiven 500 denari is more beautiful to God than the eloquent silence of the soul that has nothing to say.
Meu Deus, minha vida, minha doçura santa. Augustine's heart burning within him. Le's heart burning within her. The Emmaus road continues — from Hippo to Villeneuve-lès-Béziers, from the fourth century to this morning. The fire is the same. 🙏
Os Paradoxos de Deus
Hidden and present. Beautiful and powerful. Unchangeable yet changing everything. Always acting and always at rest. Always seeking though He lacks nothing. Augustine piles up paradoxes knowing they fall short — and piles them up anyway.
Perdoa e Nada Perde
He forgives debts and loses nothing. His mercy is not finite. The creditor who forgave 500 denari did not become poorer. The forgiving reveals more of what was always there. The larger the forgiveness, the more the soul sees of the inexhaustible supply.
Mudos Charlatães
Woe to those who say nothing about God — they are mute charlatans. The words are inadequate, but silence is worse. Better to stammer than to be silent. Better a journal in gold and darkness that falls short than the eloquent silence of an empty heart.