The More I Think, The Less I Understand

I vacilate between an excited state and one near despair. I doubt that I am unique, so none of this makes me original or an island unto myself. Yet I feel no kinship with those who share the same burdens as myself. I am an atom, among countless atoms, and worth no more than the potential energy that I have inside of me. But I do not feel myself as part of a greater design, and so there is no structure for me. And so, I am aimless and inert, unable to perceive the fabric of the universe that should be there. I see shifting patterns with one or more stochastic elements but there is no firmament underneath it all. Sometimes I am pulled along for the ride, and other times I am alone, stationary and silent. And none of it gives me hope or desire. Yet I persevere because there is no choice. I am rational, and reason compels me to live. But there is no understanding in reason.

Yet there is still an energy source within me. I cannot tap into it without reaching out to others, and while the energy flows outward, I can sometimes feel a purpose come alive inside of me. It is the connection, the universal truth of fellowship in our fallen state that acts like a siphon and draws me to action. But nothing lasts for ever, and so I fall back towards inertia.

I've not written for a while, mostly because work has picked up and my responsibilities have made it more difficult for me to find the time. Sometimes I have a quiet moment and I reflect, finding a kernel of truth that would make an interesting post but then the epiphany fades, evaporates in front of me and there is nothing I can do to keep the thought whole and cogent. I am left with fragments that make no sense.

Tonight, however, I feel compelled to put my thoughts to page, to keep the discipline and to write my thoughts before they, too, disappear.

Think of a person sitting alone at a table, with a chessboard in front of him. He ponders his options, knowing that there are more chess moves available to him towards the end-game than there are grains of sand on any beach. But he cannot plot his way through the game, because he doesn't know who is he playing against, and thus cannot predict victory or defeat. And yet he must move, because the alternative is not to play - a form of defeat.

So he moves, and a counter-move appears. Now the person knows he has an opponent, but still there is no necessary sign of intelligence or personality in the move. It is just a counter-move. The person moves again, and again a counter-move appears, this time it appears that the opposing player, however invisible, is playing against him to some degree. The person thus sits back in his chair and ponders his next move. The person makes a clever decision and appears to have the early advantage. He sits back, satisfied at his cleverness and foresight in planning.

Then something happens. The chess board disappears and a new chess board appears. The person's moves are still on the board, but the opposing chess pieces are arranged differently, so the advantage has disappeared, and still there is no opponent. Then another chess board appears next to the first. And another chess board appears. And another. More moves to make, more decisions. Still no opponent in sight. And yet the person must continue to move.

Too many moves, too many choices, too few options, no goal, no opponent.

This is how I see life at the moment. We choose a path, and we are forced into situations that are beyond our control. Even if chance and circumstance favors us, we are still playing in a game that has no opponent and no point. There is no victory to be had, because there are always more chess boards, and to stop playing is to resign.

This is life without God.

But, let's say that we add God to the picture here. Now, there IS an opponent. That opponent is me. I am thus playing against myself, and again, there cannot be a victory because either way, I will lose.

What is the point then? Well, the Christian would point out that adding God to the equation changes things infinitely, because God can take us out of the pointless game and into something that is meaning-full. Sounds good, sounds very good. Where it was impossible to stop playing, and where it was impossible to win, now, with God, the impossible becomes possible.

But there is a catch. The catch is, we have to admit defeat, and we have to understand that chess isn't the only thing that is out there. To a chess player, this is a tough pill to swallow. We have to give up playing chess altogether, because it is a pointless game, and we have to admit that everything that we have strived for, everything that we have put our energy toward, has been fruitless on their own.

It is possible that God might have us continue to play chess, but the play would have an entirely different focus. It is possible that we might never play chess again. But regardless, the focus turns away from the chessboard and towards a Power, a Universe, a Creator who knows better.

Yet to a chess player who has only known chess, the risk is high. It may be more palatable to play against the unknown, than it is to live in a world with God where the opponent can only be yourself. At least then, you would not be to blame.

And yet to change, to become more or to become different, in the very least, is the essence of the conflict. At least you would still remain you, the person that you know, if there were no God. But to have God in the very midst of us demands choice. The universe screams the decision into my ears on a daily basis, and I can barely think with all the noise. How can one make a choice without knowing what the consequences will be?

It is easier, then, maybe, to not think so much.

-David