180 Degrees

“I’m sure there is no heaven, no hell, no afterlife, and my time on this earth was exactly that, time. No, I’ll close my eyes and that’ll be it.”

Would you tell a child about to die from cancer that?

Why not?

Because it isn’t true? Too cruel?

Would you explain to that child, maybe your child, that their time on this earth didn’t matter anyway? “It’s lights out honey, that’s it.”

In all fairness, would you say that to your dying parent, grandparent, spouse? Does this sentiment or belief bring peace to you or anyone else?

I don't ask those question lightly. This is not arbitrary, nor is it an idea to be trifled with.

I ask the above with the most reverent seriousness.

Can you picture kneeling at the bedside of someone you love and telling them not to worry, they have no soul?

When you hold your newborn baby, do you say to it, "You're beautiful, and I love you, but, you're only a collection of cells solely created for perpetuating our species."

I never believed in God. I always thought it was a farce. Until I didn't.

One has to wonder. Why is it when we stand on a mountain top overlooking a valley, or on the beach watching the sun fall below the horizon, or even stare up into the cosmos on a clear night, why do we fall silent? Is it random accidental beauty? Or is it created perfection? A perfect harmony.

How could I, with any semblance of intellectual humility, stare at this computer screen and know it was created and yet, with all it's complexity, from calf muscles to conciousness, belive the human being was not created?

If there is no God, then why do we need morality? Does it benifit our species, on a purely Darwinian level, to care for the elderly, poor, disabled, or even to love?

Why do we experience love?

Love is trancendent. Truly.

We can love near, far, through time and space.

We can love those who are long dead and gone. Why?

Why do we consider meaning and beauty? Shouldn't we be worrying about survival and conquering the weak so as to manifest material destiny?

I've heard it said, "it's more likely that a tornado blows through a junk yard and creates an airplane, than for the world we live in to have been created at random." Or something like that.

Why do I believe?

Not because of any of the questions I asked earlier or the answers related to them. No, those came after I believed.

I chased the world and everything it had to offer.

I played football and baseball. I pursued pleasure and popularity.

I did fit body boot camp.

I partied. Slept with women.

Tried to go to college. Went to Vegas.

Sewed my oats. Lived my best life. Did and sold drugs. Traveled the world and the US. I had long-term live-in girlfriends.

I tried to follow the Al Bundy, Homer Simpson, Peter Griffin, male role model.

I was the charming perpetual adolescent until I was 30.

I went to jail. Was addicted to heroin and methamphetamine. I became an IV drug user.

I used cocaine, marijuana, alcohol, benzodiazapines, opiates, hallucinogens, steriods, et al.

I brought drugs from Mexico. Brought weed down from northern California. Grew pot in San Francisco. I lied, stole, slept outside, in motels, starved, cried, bled, had MRSA, went to treatment 7 times, overdosed, broke the hearts of everyone I loved and who loved me, went to psychiatrists, therapists, did drug court, and everything failed. Everything. I know at least 10 people who have died from overdoses. Including my best friend from childhood.

I had no moral compass.

I really wanted one. I was so lost.

I can remember sitting in the vehicle of one of my crimeys at a gas station. He was panhandling. (I had to stay in the car becuase I was 6'3" had blonde hair and didn't have any tatoos. His words: "you look like a bust.")

I remember watching people going to work. Putting gas in their cars. Drinking coffee from the gas stations. I can remember just aching for that normalcy. Dying to have a car, money to put gas in it, and money to buy a coffee and be on my way.

Every fiber of my being knew this wasn't the way I was supposed to be. And yet, I resigned to the fact that this was who I was.

Then I went to church.

It was terrible.

This wasn't my first time.

I had gone with friends when I was a kid.

My parents didn't go to church and when I did go, I never went seeking Truth.

This time I did. It was July 2015.

We prayed and smoked cigarettes in the parking lot before we went in.

It was an evening service. The sanctuary was huge and cool from the air conditioning.

I hated the whole thing. But, I was so beaten and broken I had to try.

I thought they were all weirdos. I thought the music was awful.

So, I set my psuedo intellectual objections aside.

I had to admit, if I was so smart, and I had everything so licked, then why was I in treatment, again, at 31 with no life to speak of? I was barely hanging on and I had to finally face the fact that when it came to theology, religon, and the pursuit of Truth I was an idiot and I didn't know a thing about it.

Except, of course, what the media, my parents, and school had taught me. That, and my own drug addled, inconsistent, and utterly vapid attempt at spiritual expression.

Frankly, I had no real intellectual objections. I was utterly incapable of critical thought and analysis anyway. No, it was more like, "Jesus gives me the creeps, and so do the people who believe in Him."

I am now one of those people. Sure, there are plenty of things I don't like about church culture. There are things I don't like that Christians say and do. All Christians are hypocrites, including myself.

I haven't done a drug, had any alcohol, or comitted any crimes since 2015. I came to believe in Jesus and my life radically changed. It changed without my permission. I really did not want Christianity to be the answer, and yet, here we are.

The change that has happened is nothing short of a miracle.

I won't even mention the material change. The material is temporary anyway.

It is amazing what the knowing of eternity, forgiveness, and love will do for a soul.

A purpose: living like Jesus would want me to. Living as a Christian. However that looks.

This essay isn't to espouse Christianity. No, nor is it to defend against the flames of those who hate Christianity. This isn't even possible. Because every reason most folks have for hating the Christian faith is because of Christian people and Christian people are, well, people. We are called to live the higher ideal, whilst knowing we are but frail, broken, and stubborn. There is no possible way we can live up to that higher ideal without help. For us, that help comes from the transcendent power of God. It comes from gratitude, hope, love, and faith. Growing in our understanding of this is a process and takes an entire lifetime, and thus, growing in our execution of those virtues is also a process. A very imperfect process. Perfect virtues, a perfect example, a perfect moral standard, for utterly imperfect people. And we, like everyone else, fall so terribly short. Thankfully, we can be forgiven, encouraged by one another to continue the good fight, and try to stand out against the backdrop of culture and the world.

They say: "There's no atheists in a foxhole." Well, there aren't any in the back of a cop car either.