Chesterton once remarked that a heretic is unable to truly have an original thought. His point was that the heretic was too busy tearing down to ever really build up, and it's certainly a good point to consider. In my own experience, however, the heretic's problem is not that he never has an original thought, but rather that once he has that singular thought he can think of nothing else.

That one thought so dominates his mind that he ceases to think of anything save for the thought and its logical conclusions. Of course, those logical conclusions are not always applied or even admitted immediately. They must be approached slowly from far away, lest he turn away from his dream as a nightmare.

Moreover, the great sin of which every heresiarch must be guilty is pride. There is always ample warning, from the Church, from Tradition, from the Scriptures, from Nature, and from Friends--often even from his own conscience--but these he ignores. He doesn't see the folly of his idea, it must be good. He doesn't sense the bad consequences, so he assumes that there aren't any.

In the cold winter that this life often is, any heat seems good. Thus does a man approach the fires of hell at first because from a distance he sees only smoke, and infers a warm hearth. He ignores the warnings posted along his path; and when he encounters a few men fleeing the other direction, he does not heed their warnings, but only mocks them. He only quickens his pace forward, as if pursued by bandits.

As he draws nearer and smells the brimstone and hears the wails, he so often continues forward because he can see nothing else besides the smoke and the glow, just over that last little hill. When at last he crests that hill, he finds that the other side is slippery as a mountain of shale and gravel. Then his footing is no longer secure, and he slides down over the precipice--it is too late for him to turn back.

We see it time and again throughout history. The gnostic would reject the body to better serve the soul; the materialist would deny the soul to better satisfy the body. Contraception seemed a good idea to many until abortion followed, and even the imminent threat of infanticide cannot satiate the zeal of some for easy "access" to abortion. The ideal of "choice"--once justified by making appeals to one's conscience--now becomes a mean of subverting the consciences of anyone who refuses to participate.

Those seeking to ameliorate the pain from divorce thought that they had struck gold when they proposed that it should be no one's fault. Little did they know that they would only spread the suffering as the divorce rate sky-rocketed. In its wake are broken homes and a generation of children whose parents waged war against each other vicariously through them, having been stripped of the ability to hurt each other in the courts.

Divorce having eroded the permanence of marriage, and contraception having stripped it of its primary purpose, little is left to defend its meaning. Yet still there are many who prefer to plunge inexorably forward under the banner of "progress," drawn by the warm of the fire.

What man wants in the winter is is not only a fire, but also a shelter. And not just any shelter will do--he needs one with a firm enough foundation that its walls will stand, and against its doors the wind will not prevail. He wants a fortress, one whose Lord will protect him from the bandits and the robbers who walk life's roads in search of prey. He wants a place of merriment and joy, a place with fellowship, a sanctuary and a community. In a word, what man wants is the Church.

Blinded by his pride, and focused entirely on his vision, man leaves the Church and seeks the fire. He may step into the fire to get warm, and instead he gets burned.