“Really, stop crying. You’ve got a lot to
look forward to, you know: a normal human life on earth, mortgage repayments,
the nine to five, a persistent nagging sense of spiritual emptiness. Save the
tears for later, boyo.”
Doctor Who S6 E12, ‘Closing Time’ (2011)
Her: Morning.
Me: What
are you doing here?
Her: Well,
I took a look at your schedule for the past little while, as I do, you know,
and it seems you and I haven’t hung out in a little while. You’ve been spending
far too much time enjoying the sensations of the present moment and far too
little looking at the bleak, blank meaninglessness underneath them. So here I
am to fix that. How about an hour or two of staring into the void?
 |
| Creates some sort of impression of voidishness, even if it can hardly be called an actual void. Thanks to Stuart Miles at freedigitalphotos.net. |
Me: Actually,
you’re all right. I have other things to be getting on with.
Her: Yeah,
but do you, though? I mean, you might have other tasks that you’ve set for
yourself, but is there really any point to any of them? Is completing
them really going to do any good in the world, you being what you are?
And, perhaps more to the point, are you really going to be able to concentrate
on any of them now that I’ve started this conversation?
Me: You
just had to ask that last question, didn’t you? Fine, then, let’s go
void-staring.
Her: Yay!
Me: But
this time my readers are coming too. Any of them who fancy the trip, I mean.
Her: Ooh,
are you sure you want to do that? You know the kinds of places our
conversations tend to go; I wouldn’t want to bring guests into that part
of the house. Aren’t you concerned that people might start to worry about you?
Me: Hardly.
Everyone knows that I’m just about the most mentally stable person one could
ever hope to meet. In fact, I’m so relentlessly fine and crisis-less that it’s
actually kind of hilarious. So I’ll just slot in a little disclaimer here to
the effect that when I go void-staring with you, our conversations are extremely
theoretical and removed. They don’t carry any impetus towards practical action,
or hold me hostage without my consent, or even have any prime influence on how
I think, because I already know that I don’t find your way of looking at things
compelling; all I’m doing by having the conversation is sweeping the paths that
lead to that conclusion. It’s like those physics questions where the exam paper
has already given you the correct answer, and all you have to do is set out the
series of calculations by which you reach it. Show your working, and so prove
with double certainty that the answer is right.
Her: I
wouldn’t be so cocky if I were you. The void is looking really existentially
empty today. Take a look.
Me: Oh
boy. I hate this bit.
Her: You
see? All these things you claim you ought to be getting on with – what’s really
the point of any of it? What does any of it achieve that’s actually worth something?
Do you suppose the world would be any the worse if you were to vanish from it
right now? or better yet, if you were never to have been born at all, and every
deed of your sinful little life were to be unravelled from existence? Would
that not be a mercy on the rest of creation, that it would be spared having to put
up with all your wicked selfishness?
Me: Apparently
God the supremely merciful didn’t think so.
Her: I’m
not surprised you brought him up. But do you truly dare to imagine that he’s
glorified in you, chief of sinners you, in your constant failure, your constantly
loving the world more than him or neighbour? Do you dare to imagine that you ever
do anything that isn’t irretrievably tainted by the evil impulses of your
flesh? You’ve caught glimpses of your own heart, just glimpses, and were you
not left breathless that something so vile, so bestially self-seeking, should
ever have been allowed to exist in the first place? And what excuse have you, particularly
given that you live in wealth and comfort and privilege and are probably
literally the most fortunate person alive, what excuse have you for living as
if without the proper gratitude to him who is your Lord and your Creator and
the Redeemer of your soul from Gehenna?1
Me: I
have no excuse; I plead –
Her: You
plead the blood of Christ, I suppose? What a terribly handy
get-out-of-jail-free card. Your spirit sits sinless in the heavenlies and
cringes at every way in which you in the flesh fail to honour Christ as Lord,
and won’t it be simply marvellous when the perishable is done away with and that
spiritual version of you is all that remains, and doesn’t the very thought fill
you with a profound and desperate longing – but a longing is all it is, because
that’s not yours yet, is it? In fact, it’s blooming hard to begin to get your
mind round the notion that it will ever be yours, seeing as it sits so far from
anything you’ve ever actually experienced. And in the meantime, while your
every thought and word and deed is still steeped in sin, what good are you to
anyone? What benefit do you offer anyone? What loss would it be to anyone – or
not rather a gain! – if you were simply to stop existing?
Me: So
now you’re, what, trying to get me to seek validation from people, but with the
precondition that nothing anyone could say will convince you that I’m actually
worth something? What is this, some sort of variant on impostor syndrome that
swaps academic achievement for social and moral?2 That’s rather a
dangerous line of argument for you to take, given that I pretty much showed
impostor syndrome the door probably a couple of years ago now.
Her: It’s
no use pretending you’re still all cool and unruffled. I saw my words hit their
mark.
Me: Maybe
so, but a hit doesn’t necessarily entail damage.
Her: Oh,
shut up, as if I’m buying that. I know I get under your skin. I’ve had you
crying before, haven’t I? I’ve had you on your knees asking your precious
Saviour with tentative earnestness why he lets you carry on living when nothing
you do is ever truly good.
Me: Hey,
everyone has bad days. It’s just that those bad days lead to a slightly
different set of questions if you know Jesus than if you don’t.
Her: And
one of those questions is, wouldn’t the world be better off without you
pootling about in it being all sinful and stuff?
Me: Dude,
this conversation has been way too dark for way too long. Frankly, I am super
bored. I’ve a good mind to just start ignoring you and get on with my day.
Her: I
won’t really go away until you answer the question, though.
Me: Fine,
then. I’ll answer the question. To kick off, you’ve presumably spotted that I
am in fact currently still alive, and, given that God’s sovereign and all, that
must mean he wants me alive. And since he is supremely wise and has engineered
all of creation for the display of his glory, that must mean that me continuing
to be alive, even, yes, continuing to be alive in flesh and sinfulness and
imperfection, somehow glorifies him.
Her: Your
logic there might be sound, but it’s awfully thin to stand on.
Me: I
haven’t finished showing my working yet. Let’s entertain the opposite scenario.
Suppose God were to bring about our full spiritual resurrection the moment we
were born again, zap us bodily up to his presence in heaven the split second we
turned from our idols and placed our trust in Christ. I mean, there wouldn’t be
very much trusting Christ to witness before faith turned into sight, would
there? How would God demonstrate his faithfulness to persist with us in
patience our whole lives long? How would he demonstrate his justice in
rewarding those who persevere in faith through suffering? How would he
demonstrate the extent of his grace, sufficient for every stumble, if there was
never any chance to stumble at all? and conversely, how would he demonstrate
the extent of his power to radically sanctify people still living in the depths
of enemy territory so that they stumble less and less often? How could he make
even the worst things work together for the good of his people if, the moment
they become his people, there are no more worst things any more? How could he
grant his Church the privilege of building herself up in love if she’s never
built together in the first place? How could his mercies be new every morning
if there are no more mornings for them to be new in?
 |
| New every morning. Someone got up early to take this one. |
Her: Are
you done yet?
Me: Please.
I could do this all day.
Her: I
thought you had other things to be getting on with. Speaking of which, where
exactly do those mundane little tasks fit into this grand, inspiring picture
you’re painting? The only point you’re able to ascribe to anything is
the glorification of God, so anything you spend your time on that isn’t
directly geared towards that is still totally worthless. And given how rubbish
you are at obeying your professed Master, I can still make a very compelling
case that you’re doing more harm than good.
Me: You’re
not listening. God is so mind-blowingly brilliant that he glorifies himself in
my rebellion as much as in my obedience, in my defeats as much as in my
triumphs. I mean, I’d very much rather be obedient, because God is
mind-blowingly brilliant and all his ways are perfect and his instruction is
the very measure of all that’s good and right, but God’ll have his glory either
way. If I do rightly, he’s glorified because he’s the one who makes me capable
of that; if I do wrongly, he’s glorified because his love and grace and mercy
in carrying out the deserved punishment for all my wrongdoing on Jesus in my
stead, so that I might be forgiven it, go light-years beyond any stretch of the
human imagination.
Her: You’re
trying to claim that every single thing you ever do glorifies God?
Me: Mate,
I glorify God merely by existing. I glorify him merely by existing as
his redeemed and adopted child, and that’ll be the case whatever I do, because,
newsflash, I made literally no contribution whatsoever to its being brought
about: it’s a gift of grace, so that no one might boast.3 In fact,
you know what you are, at the end of the day?
Her: Pray
enlighten me.
Me: You’re
just another claim that salvation is by works, dressed up a bit differently to
usual. You justify the notion that the world would get alone just fine without
me, thank you very much, by suggesting that my good works are insufficient to
earn me the right to exist. Well, duh! My good works are insufficient to
earn me literally anything! Is that supposed to be some kind of news or
something? My right to exist is not earnt. Rather, my responsibility to
exist is freely and graciously given.
Her: Responsibility?
Me: So
you are listening. Yes, responsibility, or duty, or if a right, then in the
sense of a privilege. If God has caused me to exist for the sake of his glory,
then for the sake of his glory, it’s my duty and my privilege to continue to
exist.
Her: Even
if everything you’re doing feels pointless. Even if you’re convinced you’re
doing more harm than good with every breath you take.
Me: Hey,
if the fact that I was dead in my sins didn’t stop God from glorifying himself
through me, why should anything else threaten to? I have to say, you’re really
clutching at straws now.
Her: All
right, fine, I give in. You are too blooming good at winning these arguments.
Me: I’m
just lucky you’re as pathetic as you are, really. You go down without too much
of a fight. Sure, you’ve had me crying and asking God stupid questions, but you
forget that crying and asking God stupid questions is something I tend to do fairly
regularly and without a great deal of prompting. It’s all just part of showing
my working.
Her: Wow.
I matter so little to you.
Me: It’s
true, you do. In fact, I’d go so far as to say that everything you do is
pointless, and the world would be a better place if you were to vanish from it.
But funnily enough, God has brought glory for himself even out of our little
trip to the void, in my being moved to doxologise even if in nothing else. How’s
that for mind-blowingly brilliant?
Footnotes
1 I’ve decided that the word ‘hell’ is confusing and am
therefore trying not to use it. I’ll probably blog about that issue at some
point, but for the moment, suffice it to say that Gehenna refers to everlasting
fiery post-death punishment to which those who don’t obey God are sentenced. Or
feel free to form your own conclusion from how the term is used: https://www.stepbible.org/?q=version=ESV|version=SBLG|strong=G1067&options=VHNUG.
2 Impostor syndrome is another thing I’m vaguely intending to
blog about at some point, but again, for the moment, here’s the Wikipedia page
to give you an introduction if you’re not familiar with the term: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Impostor_syndrome.
3 There are a whole lot of scriptural allusions in this post,
but this is probably the most explicit, from Ephesians 2: https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Ephesians+2&version=ESVUK.
I’ll leave you to hunt the rest down for yourself.
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