God says: tsk, tsk, tsk

The Divine Non-Issuance of the Right to Remain Stupid

Do not misquote Me.
I have reviewed the record.
There is no clause, no covenant, no fine print
where I bequeathed you the sacred right
to be willfully, triumphantly dull.

I gave you a mind—
not a decorative heirloom to gather dust
beside your convictions.

Yet here you are,
polishing your ignorance to a mirror shine,
admiring your own refusal to think
as though it were a moral achievement.

You call it freedom.
I call it leaving the instrument in its case
and insisting you’ve mastered the symphony.

Yes, I made you capable of not knowing—
that was unavoidable.
But you have refined it
into a lifestyle brand.

You plant your flag in the shallowest ground
and declare the horizon overrated.
You sip from the well of certainty
and boast that you have never thirsted.

And then—this is my favorite—
you invoke Me.

As though I whispered,
“Go forth, ignore context,
cling tightly to your first thought,
and defend it as if angels depend on it.”

No.

If I had wanted obedient emptiness,
I would have stopped at stones.
They never argue, never learn,
and never mistake inertia for insight.

But you—
you were given curiosity,
that holy itch behind the eyes,
that quiet, persistent are you sure?

And you swatted it away
like a nuisance.

You built temples to your conclusions
before laying a single brick of doubt,
then barred the doors
against revision.

Do not lay this at My feet.
I did not ordain your indifference.
I did not sanctify your certainty.

I gave you the ache of thinking
and the tools to relieve it—
not the excuse to pretend it isn’t there.

So keep your so-called “right.”
Frame it. Defend it. Shout it.

But do not attribute it to Me.

I gave you a mind.