Christianity, as history has handed it down, is not identical with its original impulse. What may once have been a small Jewish movement, centred on inner change and moral re-alignment, was gradually overlaid by cosmic theology, mythological symbolism, sacramental structure, and institutional dogma. Paul universalized the movement; later centuries elaborated it; orthodoxy organized and defended it. Yet the stripping away of those later accretions need not end in mere negation. Beneath them, the original summons may still be heard: a call to metanoia, to a reawakening of the moral centre, to the recovery of that inbuilt orientation towards the good which the world so easily obscures. If so, the real significance of Christianity lies less in dogma than in the possibility that, beneath all its historical layers, it still preserves a call to become inwardly true.
The Psalms are not records of divine weather but maps of the inner life. They describe the movement from turmoil to alignment, from fear to clarity, from fragmentation to the rediscovery of the unchanging centre of our being. Read inwardly, the Psalms become the earliest psychological texts of the Western world — a guide to the resonance between consciousness, creation, and the inner God who steadies us when we have nothing left to give.