the perfect remedy

When the mind cannot sleep, and when restlessness reaches down even to the marrow of my bones, I find an escape. I hardly ever wake up early enough to see the sunrise—and usually the sunrise is obscured by Cincinnati smog—and the sunrise will not wait for me. Yet I can go to the sunrise, and thousands upon thousands of feet in the sky, I can lean against the window and watch the sun rising over the great ocean swells. And you thought I played flight simulator just because it was fun…

my greatest fear

Do you know what I’m afraid of? I’m so afraid. I never thought I would say this to you: I am afraid of being alone. This fear haunts me, eats me, and consumes me, day in and day out, judging and liquidating my every move. I fear, so badly, never having anyone. I fear growing old, cold, and alone, never tasting love, and dying alone and forgotten in a decrepit hospice, those whitewashed tombs. I am so afraid I will never taste the kiss of a girl or feel the warmth of her body close; I am so afraid I will never be the focus of sparkling eyes and a tender touch and shy smiles. I fear never being loved, only watching others parade in fashion, hungering and thirsting and crying in my own silence. I can’t rationalize my fear away; you can’t rationalize the fear of snakes or spiders, and my life’s history gives no alternate meaning: “No one wants you, and all who might want you will be taken from you.” I am left alone, unwanted, watching my friends and their girls, watching the object of my passion for so long taken by a best friend—and he forgets me [an event in High School that foreshadows, ironically, what would happen my sophomore year of college]. For so long I’ve lain alone at home in bed as my friends went out with all those who shared affection.

I don’t want sex or making out. I want someone to talk with, someone to hold close, a girl who doesn’t shiver at my sight but draws near, finding comfort and refuge in my arms. When she cries, I want to hold her. When I cry, I want her to hold me. I am a romantic shunned, looking around and seeing sex-mongers cheating the romance out of girls, leaving them hollow, sluttish shells—the rape of all good and true. I want a girl so badly, a genuine and authentic, loving and cherished, a beautiful and captivating girl to find a hiding place in my love, to cry no more. I want to go to candlelit dinners, to hold her by a fire, to feed off her warmth under the stars, to whisper in her ear, “I love you. It will be okay.”

Did you ever see the movie Donnie Darko? Donnie falls in love with Gretchen, and she is killed—run over by a car. It is very tragic. This haunts me, sears me, paralyzes me. It comes up in my dreams and nightmares. I am Donnie—weird, socially blundering, wanting the girl. Gretchen is the one whom I seek; I am the one who’s filled her dreams of weddings and engagements and honeymoons. Then she is taken, brutally and savagely, innocent and angelic, battered and bloodied. This I fear, too: discovering the One—and she is taken from me. I fear she shall be taken from me.

snapshots

cincinnati whiteout '09

Snow days! It is rare that C.C.U. has snow days, but the weather has demanded them: freezing rain has left up to a quarter-inch of ice on all the roads. Hamilton County was on a Level Three Snow Emergency this morning, and I went on a walk down Glenway Avenue. It was quite strange seeing nothing but snow and ice, the roads unpaved, complete emptiness, the sounds those of only the birds and the wind rattling the ice-heavy branches. People walked down the streets, heads hung low, fighting off the cold. It was as if the world had been stripped of all technology.

The snow days have been fun. I am itching to go to my classes, which are fascinating, so I am starving for knowledge. But, regardless, I have found ways to enjoy myself. Tackling my friend Sarah in the snow. Throwing snowballs. Building a gigantic igloo. “Eskimo is a racial slur for the Inuit people.” Sledding down massive hills and slicing open my finger (my plastic sled shattered into several pieces, cutting my body in nearly every fathomable place; I feel like a walking corpse drained of blood). Hanging out with friends in the café while sipping hot chocolates. The best part, however, has been crawling under the covers of my bed after spending eight hours in the snow, feeling my toes warming up underneath multiple fleece blankets. As the elite Romans would say, “Paradisio.”

one picture and 1000 words

The talk went well. My friend Jessica and I had to establish what our relationship means, clear the air for what the future holds. In league with my usual style of elaboration upon my life, it would make sense that I would write about it. But there are some things that words just cannot explain, and it is my relationship with Jessie. All-in-all, I think a picture would best describe our relationship. Sometimes pictures can speak 1000 words, and I believe this pictorial representation of our relationship accomplishes such a feat.

the third week

Monday. Jessie and I had our mandatory Hilltop meeting from 1-3:00. Caleb’s back, pursuing his Master’s in Counseling, and he’s working as a barista. Ams and I went to Dayton to load some of her belonging into her car and ferry it back to her school. She has a cool roommate, a girl named Emily.

Inauguration Day. Gambill and I went to Romans class at 8:30. I took an end seat in the second row next to Gambill. The first row is empty, except for one guy and Mandy K. I took Ams to the bookstore after class, and then I napped through Chapel. I ate lunch in the Hilltop with Jessie and Ams, and then Jessie and I went to Geology. The class is taught by Rick Bullard, Stupid Farmer’s uncle. I kept making funny faces and weird noises to make Jessie laugh, just as I did with Monica in Biology last year. I grabbed a coffee from the Hilltop, and Stupid Farmer and I went to President’s Hall to go to the bookstore and visit his uncle. Stupid Farmer confessed his crush on Amanda. I ate dinner with him, Gambill, and Jobst. Ams and I played ping-pong in Student Life. President Obama was sworn in today.

Wednesday. Mom told me Grandpa and Grandma M. aren’t planning on getting a divorce, due to insurance reasons, but they ARE separating. Grandpa is moving to Oklahoma, and Grandma is moving in with Aunt Teri. They’re putting the house up for sale. Gambill and I ate breakfast at 7:30 and went to Genesis 1-11 with Dyke. I got an iced latte and went to my room to do some writing. Ams got out of class at 11:00, and we went on a cigarette run in her car. I worked 12-2:00, ate lunch with Stupid Farmer and Ams, and did some homework in my dorm room before dinner with Ams, Kyle, Stupid Farmer, and Gambill. Ams said she doesn’t like Bullard “like that.” Jessie, Bullard, Justin, Ams, Faikham and I hung out in Student Life until midnight. Faikham sat beside me and was being very cuddly: leaning against me, her head on my shoulders, stuff like that. Jessie was shocked; I was happy. “She’s my guilt pleasure,” I quipped. Jessie and I talked on the phone until 1:30 AM. She’s full of confusion regarding everything with Justin.

Thursday. I had class 8:30-9:45 with Gambill, worked until 1:00, and then had class with Jessie until 2:45. I came down with a  bad headache and napped until 6 PM. I ate dinner with Gambill, Stupid Farmer, Kyle, and Ams. Faikham and Deshay joined us, and we went down to the café for hang-out time. We did the phalanx on Sarah and prank-called Bethany “Kool-Aid” Heitkamp. Jessie and Justin went for a long walk and spent the evening together. Ams told me, “I hate the way Faikham treats you. She’s so heartless and mean.” She isn’t nicknamed the Ice Princess for nothing; and at least I get cuddles out of it.

Friday. Jessie’s brother Jake told her, “Either you will marry Anthony, or your friendship will end.” I comforted her, told her not to worry. Deep down, though, I fear he was right. Ashlie and I were best friends for four years. “We’ll always be friends!” we exclaimed. That was naïve. Ashlie and I went our separate ways. We don’t talk anymore. It’s not a bad thing. It’s just what is. It’s the rhythm of relationships. Every relationship shatters in due time; and if not by choice, then by fate, and that fate is death. Everyone who lives will one day die and die alone. My friendship with Jessie is already beginning to wither into just another scarred, fibrous corpse as her heart turns from me onto Justin. She and Justin won’t be just friends; he will take all her affections. Gambill, Stupid Farmer and I ate breakfast at the dining hall; I was up early enough to see the sunrise. Class ran until 9:00, and then I wrote a paper in the library. I ran to the bank, filled up the Prizm at the Sunoco, and then I met up with Jessie for a while. I hung out with Faikham in the Hilltop, and then Ams and I went to Party Source in Kentucky to get some beer. We went to Mount Echo to drink beer and smoke cigarettes, and then she went home. Faikham called me, asked me to join her, Mikaela, Jessie and Justin for a trip to Thai Taste. Mikaela told Faikham, “I think Beast likes you,” and she just shook her head. Jessie worked 7:30-Close in the Hilltop, so Faikham and I went and kept her company. Faikham fell asleep on my arm. She woke up homesick and went back to her dorm. She taught me how to say “I love you” in Korean.

Saturday. Jessie and I grabbed lunch at the dining hall and went over to Isaac’s apartment at Summit View to hang out and drink Woodchuck Cider. Isaac, Andy and I went to dinner at the dining hall, and then I took a nap. While I was sleeping Faikham, Kugler, Katy M., Mikaela, and Andy went down to skate on Fountain Square. When I woke up, Stupid Farmer and I loaded into my car and went down there. We got coffee at Graeter’s and stood watching them from the sidelines. Mykaela took off her skates and hung out with us. When Faikham saw me, she got really excited, gave me a big hug, and said, “I’m so glad you came!” All of us went to Skyline Chili on Warsaw, and then I went over to Jobst’s apartment and we grilled steaks out on the street while drinking beer.

Sunday. Both Ashlie H. and Courtney bought their wedding dresses yesterday. I woke, did laundry, and got a lot of homework done. Jessie called me, told me she spent all yesterday evening with Justin. I’m selfish, and I don’t want her hanging out with him because I fear he’ll replace me. Stupid Farmer, Gambill and I hung out for a while, and then I worked 5:45-9:00. Jessie took over for me.  Jessie says she always gets questions like, “Do you and Beast have a ‘thing’?” and she’s always like “No, no, NO!” Katie told me that the Wright Brothers (not Orville and Wilbur) said, “Anthony’s sister is so hot, and he’s so ugly; it’s weird.” That pissed me off. Ams returned to campus, and we went to the Hilltop and hung out with Gambill and Faikham. Justin and the Wright Brothers showed up, and I felt myself getting angry, so I headed back to my room and went to bed.

monday musings

I was hoping to spend six hours writing this morning/afternoon, between 9:00 and 3:00, but it came to my attention at the last minute that I had to work during that opening. Thus my ambitions have been shattered. I haven’t been able to write in a week or two, and the effects are numbing. Writing is like a drug for me, and if I don’t get to take it, I become irritable and closed-off and unhappy. Basically, I go through withdrawal, like a person addicted to cigarettes or heroin. When I have not been writing for a while, I find that I am thinking about writing all the time. For instance, in the coffee shop today, as I made lattes and cappuccinos, my eyes kept darting around the café and imagining all sorts of spectacular events and how they would be transcribed by pen. My friend Hensel came in, sat down at the bar, and continued taking notes on a superhero book he is working on. Chatting with him about these things made me want to get back to writing as soon as possible. Unfortunately, due to a large quantity of papers and book reviews to be written this week, my leisure writing will have to be put on hold.

A friend and I are having a very special discussion this evening. Not “special” in the sense of romantic, but special in the sense that we are both going to be sharing our feelings regarding certain circumstances that have woven their way into our lives. I’m hoping that any confusion on either party’s side will be extinguished, and that we can both be open and honest about how we really feel about everything. I am always apprehensive about these talks, because I know that they can either strain a relationship or make it stronger. Usually it takes one of those two routes. I am hoping for the second outcome, that the friendship will deepen and be enriched, and my friend made a good point: “Not talking about how we really feel about this could put an even worse strain on the relationship than if we were open and honest about it.” She’s right. So we’re going to talk about this, and I’m looking forward to it: she’s a great friend, and it is relatively easy to be open and honest with her.

last night's dream

Have you ever had dreams that make no sense whatsoever, but yet when you wake up, you can’t get them out of your mind? A dream of that nature I experienced last night. As I slept, I dreamt that I was being married in the backyard of a large mansion, inside a gazebo. Lots of friends and family were gathered together. My bride was a beautiful, chunky woman (I do like the chunky ones), with curled blond hair and frighteningly passionate eyes. As we began to make our vows, three large men appeared, wielding swords. They quickly broke up the wedding, and I was taken prisoner, carried to the fenced-in yard at the house next door. Somehow I managed to escape, and in the yard over, at the gazebo, one of the men was preparing to marry my bride by force. So enraged I was, I took off at lightning speed, leaping over the fence, and charging the crowd. People leapt out of the way, and just before the man forced my bride to kiss him, I rushed into the gazebo and grabbed her by the hand, and without breaking speed, I carried her away. The man was furious, but he didn’t have time to react. I leapt over the fence leading to the opposite yard, and I laid her in the grass. She thanked me, begged me not to go, but I had no choice. Rage burned through me like a hot torch. I jumped back over the fence and faced the men. There were only two of them now (the third must have run off or something, or simply slipped from my mind). The main man came at me with a large mallet, and as he swung it, I grabbed the mallet in my hands and wrenched it from his. I faced him, and we circled one another: me with the mallet, and him with the sword. The circling seemed to last forever, and I could feel the terror mixing with indignation, a strange concoction running through my veins. He suddenly thrust himself forward, swinging his sword; I ducked, but he grabbed me, and he hurled me into the fence. He came at me again, but I ducked out of the way, and he stumbled into the fence, his sword lodged in the wooden planks. I whipped around and drove the handle of the mallet into his chest: it shattered his sternum and went through his body, impaling him to the fence. His weak fingers released the sword, and without even taking the pleasure of seeing the life fade from his eyes, I swirled around and faced the final bandit. He looked at me with absolute fright and took off running. I knew he wasn’t coming back. I went back over the fence and took my Love in my arms, and I held her close, and as our eyes connected, I woke up.

the curse of hopeless romanticism

I am a hopeless romantic. I asked a friend, “Why do you think we call ourselves hopeless romantics?” She said, “Maybe because the kind of love we want, the romance we are looking for, is hopeless. It doesn’t exist.” What kind of love—what kind of romance—do I want?

To hold a girl close, cuddling as we watch movies.
To kiss her sweetly on the lips and then gaze into her eyes.
To press my face against hers and laugh in joy.
To take long walks through the park, hand-in-hand.
To share stories and laughter over lattes and macchiatos.
To be affectionate and to be shown affection.
To share my life with another, and to share in her life.
To care, serve, and sacrifice myself for her.
To show her that real love is not a hoax—and for me to be shown the same.

“Is it hopeless?” I don’t know. Maybe I just need to keep hope alive. Hope that my dreams will become a reality. Maybe I just need to work harder. Maybe if I become skinnier, then girls would be willing to go on dates with me? Maybe if I changed my personality girls would be more attracted to me? I don’t know. Maybe I’m just searching for answers like a fisherman fishing for a catch in the Dead Sea: maybe the search, though valiant and determined, will produce nothing except the salt from my own tears?

why do i write?

On Wednesday I had a three-hour break between my only class and my Hilltop shift from 12-2:00. I went to the coffee shop and got an iced vanilla latte, then sat down at my computer and began to write. I continued working on “Chapter 37: No Perfect Endings” in my post-apocalyptic novel Dwellers of the Night (655 pages so far). As I leaned back and sipped on my espresso, I asked myself, “Why do I write?”

Writing serves as a sort of escape hatch to slink away from the belly of the great beast of life. When life sucks, I write. It’s what I do. When I am stressed out over something, or when circumstances break my heart, I retreat into the cavern of creativity, and I get lost in the little words that I concoct as my fingertips dance upon the keyboard. I get lost in romantic tragedies, and I get lost in comedies, and I get lost in worlds where people don’t have to worry about being backstabbed, betrayed, and trampled-over. I get lost in a world where the primary concern is not how you look, where you’re going to work in a year, or how you’re going to support yourself financially. I get lost in worlds where none of that matters, where the only concern is surviving another day. It is strange: in order to escape the harsh realities of life, I delve into even harsher fantasy-realms. It makes sense, I guess: the current state-of-affairs doesn’t look so bleak compared to a world filled with zombies, a world where you have to kill your loved ones, a world where nothing makes sense anymore, and everything is so clear.

My writing has always been about victory and triumph; sadly, however, it has taken a much more… cynical… direction. This is probably because of the cynicism and skepticism that has become mine over the past several years, a cynicism and skepticism borne out of great suffering, shattered hopes and dreams, and the testimony of the apparent futility of relationships. In Dwellers of the Night, for example, there is no such thing as a happy ending. One of the main themes is about a character trying to restart his life, but the main point is that you can’t restart your life; there is no “starting over.” You have what you have, and you have to work with it as best you can. Tragedies strike, and they will tear into you, and they will impregnate you with a whole host of emotions that will ride upon your shoulders till the day you die. Of course, that’s only one theme in the book—Dwellers of the Night is fascinating because it is composed of so many interwoven stories as well as interwoven themes—but the book overall advances a somewhat nihilistic outlook on the world (an outlook, I must confess, that I do not hold, ultimately, hold).

The Question of Evil, Part V

The Sovereignty Answer

Perhaps the most popular answer in America to the question, “How can a loving God allow Evil exist?” is what has been called “The Sovereignty Answer.” The Sovereignty Answer is the most popular in the sense that most Christians in America hold to a systematic theology that determines this answer to be the case. The majority of Christians in America are Calvinistic, holding to the teachings inspired by the great European reformer John Calvin. The answer to the question of Evil, according to The Sovereignty Answer, is this: “God has decreed that Evil exist.” Many Christians are comfortable with this answer, understanding God to be the One who makes Evil happen. After all, God is Sovereign, and He can do as He pleases. Many other Christians, and especially non-Christians, balk at this idea; if this idea is true, then God has taken center-stage in the great atrocities of human history, including the Crusades, the Inquisition, the Holocaust, and the Columbine shootings. This view is defended via various proof-texts from the Old and New Testaments; in the New Testament, Romans 9.20-24 is embraced. “What right does man have to argue against his Maker?” According to the Sovereignty view, God is the orchestrator of Evil, the One who decrees evil exists, the one who makes calamity, and Man must totally submit to God and His sovereignty, embracing a stoic acceptance of all types of evil as the direct and causal will of God.

I personally do not agree with this view, and lean towards the next answer—“The Free Will Answer”—as well as an eclectic mix of several other answers. It’s complicated, I know, but this question demands a complicated answer: a simple answer simply will not and cannot suffice.

the drama of the seasons

I hate winter. I absolutely loathe it. The deadness. The coldness. The ice webbed over the sidewalk and the snow crunching under the tires. I hate the wind that is so cold and fierce that it bites into your skin and makes you bleed. This is one of the coldest winters we’ve had in a long time, and I am absolutely ready for it to leave. I look forward to the spring, when I will go to the park and sit under the shade of the trees, when the flowers are all bursting open, when the bees return to life. “Come awake, O Sleeper.” In Geology class, we contemplated what it means that when God saw all He had made, He declared it “Very Good.” I think it means that what God created pleases Him. The professor believes it means that what God created is good for life. I always wondered if the seasons were a direct result of the Fall, the deadness of winter being a reminder of what took place with mankind’s first act of disobedience: falling and deadness. And yet the more I think about it, the Seasons are beautiful, each one speaking to different chapters of our lives, speaking to different scenes and acts in the unfolding drama that is lived out in our personal lives, the drama that weaves out beyond ourselves and intersects with the dramas of others, creating even more beautiful and yet tragic dramas that stretch across the global canvas. Maybe God created the Seasons, and He declared them Good, because they speak to our experiences, and also because they speak of the unfolding drama of salvation: birth, death, rebirth. Okay, so that can be interpreted as reincarnation, but that’s not what I’m aiming at. We are born in harmony with God (“Summer”), we Fall from harmony with God in disobedience (“Fall”), we exist in separation from God, alienation from God, and overall deadness in the entire spectrum of our existence (“Winter”); but in Christ, God remakes us, and He will continue remaking us, and He will remake everything, including the universe itself (“Spring”). Perhaps God, in His foreknowledge, designed the Seasons to remind those of us in certain hemispheres of the world of the story of redemption.

the paradoxical nature of dating

A few nights ago, I joined several of my friends for a trip downtown. Throughout winter, Fountain Square sports an ice skating rink, and it is current C.C.U. fashion to hit it up at least several times throughout the semester. Gambill and I were the only upperclassmen there; of the fifteen people who went, thirteen are freshman. As we skated around the rink, we couldn’t help but notice how the freshman guys were flocking around the freshman girls. It is an undying tradition, especially at Christian colleges. Perhaps it is because people are infatuated with the fairy-tale lie of “falling in love and bible college and getting married to the One God has for you.” Or maybe it’s just the excitement of beginning a new life outside your parents’ house and feeling confident enough to pursue girls you would never have otherwise pursued. Regardless of the reasons, Gambill and I noticed that it was a “Single’s Fest.” Later that evening, back on campus, Gambill and I were sitting in my room, and he told me, “Dating is one of the most selfish activities we can indulge in.”

He’s right. No, dating may seem noble, but looking from the inside out, it really is a selfish endeavor. Think about it. What is the number one, the most important, facet in dating? The physical appearance of the person of the opposite sex. I know people say, “It’s personality that’s important,” and I agree, but the personality can be charming and spectacular and wonderful, but if you aren’t physically attractive, be prepared to be “just friends” (this is a lesson I learned a while ago; many, many girls have told me that I am one of their best friends, that they can be open and honest with me, etcetera, and the same girls tell me what they want in a guy, and I line up perfectly with that, but I don’t match the physiological criteria; therefore “You’re too good of a friend for me to date.” That’s the language that is used). Dating, then, is selfish because it caters to the biological and physiological needs of the human creature; we are hardwired to appreciate beauty, and we want that. There’s nothing wrong with it—and it is selfish. We try to make it sound noble and wonderful, but in the end, we are simply catering to our selfish wants. It is important to date someone attractive, not only personally but also socially, and to date someone unattractive is not something we want., and it is not beneficial socially Dating is also selfish because it is about finding fulfillment in another person. It is about finding someone who will fulfill your needs for romance and belonging. This is my perspective of dating, which has not been adequately challenged in any way or shape or form, and I am confident that I am as guilty of it as anyone.

Dating is selfish. But is it evil? Now we’re playing word-games. Evil, I think, can be defined as that which is against the nature of God and His desires. Anything that is antithetical to God and His wishes is “Evil.” God is a selfless being, and He demands that His people live selfless lives. And yet dating, even—and especially!—in Christian circles, is selfish. At the same time, however, God has designed us physiologically and biologically to want what is attractive and to not want what is unattractive. He has designed us for community and romantic love. So, in the end, it’s a catch-22. It’s selfish. And it’s totally in line with the way God made us. A paradox of sorts.

the second week

Monday. I started my second Early Week class, Prayer & Spirituality with Snyder. Trista and I ate lunch and talked about Karen and her ex-boyfriend Josh. She lost her virginity and is pretty bummed out about it. I sat next to Kyle C. in class. He’s Courtney’s boyfriend fiancé. I really don’t know how it made me feel. I’m not sure how I feel about anything anymore. Amanda came down to campus and registered for her classes. She ran into Courtney in President’s Hall and told me, “So much anger blew up inside me, and I just wanted to cuss her out.” Instead she just gave her a “death glare.” After dinner I went down to Student Life and played ping-pong with Gambill, and Jessie and Faikham joined us for a trip to the new Kroger on Warsaw (Jobst was working). Gambill and I hung out with Kugler and Stupid Farmer for a while, and I rode along with Kyle as he ran some errands.

Tuesday. Kyle C. kept talking about how he met Courtney, and it made me so mad and sad. Mad, because their fling began while Courtney and I were still together (it doesn’t seem apparent that he knows she technically cheated on me), and sad because I lost her to him the day their love kindled. He talked about how they were planning their wedding, and that frustrated me, because he was complaining about all the difficulties after I had the most difficult time for months trying not to slit my own wrists or swallow a mouthful of rat poison after losing her. He should just be happy that he has such a great girl wearing his engagement ring. But I will remove myself from this tone and focus on all that I have to be thankful for: a plethora of great friends and a fantastic family, not least a devoted, loyal, loving sister. I have clothing and shelter and food. And I don’t have to worry about zombies killing all I love. I ate lunch with Trista, Faikham, and Jessie; and after class I ate dinner with Gambill, Kyle, and Morocco. I visited Jessie, Faikham and Deshay at their table. By the time we got out of the mess hall, it was below freezing and snowing, and the roads were getting bad. Jessie and I retired to Student Life where we played ping-pong for a while. Jessie sobbed, telling me how Kyle had attacked her as a person, how she was falling apart. “You’re such a good friend, Beast. You’re the only person I feel comfortable talking to about this… Not to mention crying.”

Wednesday. I skipped the last half of class to go up to Dayton and get a new phone. By the time I got back to school (around 7:30) the roads were caked in ice. It’s horrific out there. I met Jessie, Stupid Farmer, and Faikham in Student Life. We played ping-pong and shot the breeze. Jessie and I talked for about two hours, exposing our darkest fears and worries. She’s such a good girl. I’m SO HAPPY to call her my friend.

Thursday. Class ended at noon. I was glad to be out of there; Kyle C. talking about his upcoming wedding nonstop just made me irritated. Today he was showing off love letters she wrote him. I almost said, “Hey, she sent me some of those, too,” but refrained. He doesn’t like me. I don’t blame him. I had sex with his fiancé, and who knows what stories she concocted about our sexual exploits. Everyone spins stories, and I am a Master. After lunch I returned home: the Prizm is acting funny, and Dad wants to examine it. As we were looking at the car, ALL HELL BROKE LOOSE. Aunt Teri caught Grandpa M. in an affair by following him in his truck. She confronted him at some woman’s house; she was screaming and crying. Mom drove down to Kentucky. Uncle Bill picked up Grandma. By now I’m sure Grandma knows.

Friday. It’s COLD. In the negatives, and that without a wind chill. Since the beginning of the month, there’s been snow on the ground. This is the coldest and snowiest winter we’ve had. “Global Warming!” everyone’s saying. I drove my car around a bit; once the engine heats up, it isn’t too bad. I called Mom in Kentucky, and she said Grandma is taking the news okay, but she’s obviously REALLY hurt.

Saturday. Faikham called and invited me to go ice-skating with her a few other people, so a bunch of us went down to Fountain Square, threw on skates, and hit the ice. Besides Faikham and me, there was Deshay, Jessie, Katy M., Kugler, Stupid Farmer, Gambill, Jeremy R., and Stephen G. It was like a Single’s Fest. The freshmen guys were pairing up with all the girls. Faikham, Deshay, and Katy M. were the choice picks. It seemed that me, Bullard, Jessie and Gambill were the only ones there just to hang out and skate without ulterior motives. Everyone decided to go to IHOP afterwards, but I declined to go. I was starting to feel depressed, started feelings isolated, alone, unwanted, paranoid. I can’t stop the depression, but at least I can deal with it. “You should stop isolating yourself,” Jessie says, “and force yourself to hang out with people when the sadness is bad. It’s better than being alone.” Damn it. She’s right.

Sunday. I went with Kyle to his church in Northmont and taught a class: The Story of God: from Eden to Eden. It’s one of my stock lessons, and it went really well, though I was a bit rusty, since I haven’t taught it in months. I napped until 6 PM and had a very elaborate zombie dream. It involved Jessie, Amanda, Courtney, and several other people. I love zombie dreams but HATE Courtney dreams. I have them often. She really fucked me up. Well, not her but what we did and what she did to me. The pain in my heart is still there, manifesting itself in my sleep. Amanda moved onto campus this evening; Dad, Gambill and I helped her move into Room 205 in Rine. Gambill, Bullard, Deshay, Faikham, Jessie, Ams and I went to Highlands in Clifton to celebrate her arrival. Stupid Farmer’s love interest, Sarah M., is now dating the Mexican dude named Avon. He was bummed out about it, but now he’s turned his attention onto Ams. Ha. “Stupid Farmer.”

"let the good times roll..."

Amanda moved onto campus today. She’s going to be here this semester, and over the summer she is transferring to U.C. to study Zoology. She wanted to get out of Anderson, and she wanted to go to U.C., but she missed U.C.’s application deadline. She was going to take a semester off, but insurance wouldn’t have covered her, so she’s coming here for a semester and taking general science and psychology electives. She decided to come here because I’m here, and also because she has some friends here; my friends whom she got to know through me: Gambill, Sarah, Deshay, Jessie. All of us—including Bullard—went to Highlands in U.C. to celebrate. Checkers, chess, rummy, delicious cups of coffee. Good conversation. Those are the nights that I like. Just relaxing with friends whom you feel open and close to. They are good nights, and I anticipate even more to come in the days ahead.

The Question of Evil, Part IV

Religious Systems & The Treatment of Evil's Existence

All religions must deal with the existence and prosperity of evil. Religions have dealt with this issue in three general ways.

The first way is Solution. The solution to the problem entails the elimination of an attribute of God. For example, if God is not omni-present, then the solution is simple: when evil strikes, and where evil thrives, God is absent. If God were present, then He would do something with it. This is the route taken by many of the pagan religions of the ancient Near East. Ba’al worshippers would subjugate themselves to self-mutilation in an effort to placate God into moving into the area. We see this in the account of Elijah on Mount Carmel: the worshippers of Ba’al mutilated themselves, and Elijah mocked them, asking, “Where is your god? Is he sleeping? Or maybe he is taking a leak!” Some people have eliminated the benevolence of God to deal with the issue; this is the route deism takes: God simply does not care about humanity, and that is why He allows evil to exist and prosper. Sadly, many Christians have subconsciously adopted this view, interpreting tragedies and evil in their life as evidence that God’s love is not upon them. Some have said that if a person must deal with tragedy due to evil, then that person is loathed by God. This is simply an extenuation of the solution argument. Atheists, in their effort to undermine religion, will often, in their arguments, assume God exists and then point out the existence of evil, bringing God’s benevolence into question, and making him unworthy of worship and devotion.

The second way to deal with the problem of evil is Dis-Solution. This is a denial of the tension between Good and Evil, the belief that Good and Evil are intimately connected. Good and Evil become an intrinsic part of the universe, and since there is no distinction between them, there is no tension to be resolved. Taoism takes this route.

The third way to deal with the problem, and this is the way ethical monotheistic religions have went, is Paradox. These religions affirm the reality and distinction of Good and Evil, acknowledging the tension. The paradox is thus: God, in His goodness and wisdom, allows evil to exist and even to prosper. The paradox behind this is obvious: if God is good, then why evil? If God is wise, then why evil? Christianity, Islam, Judaism, and Zoroastrianism have taken this route. All of these religions have struggled with this question and arrived at various conclusions. The various conclusions of Christianity are even shared by Islam and Judaism.

In the next post we will examine one of the answer to the problem, The Sovereignty Answer. After that, we will examine The Free Will Answer. In the third upcoming post, we will look at six more and less-common answers. We will find that none of these answers satisfy those who are faced with evil and its tragic effects. Following the examination of these answers, we will then explore the “Theology of Evil” and the reality of God’s justice and fairness and how that ties into the equation.

deflating egocentrism

Everyone longs to give themselves completely to someone, to have a deep soul relationship with another, to be loved thoroughly and exclusively.

But God, to a believer, says,

”No, not until you are satisfied, fulfilled and content with being loved by me alone, with giving yourself totally and unreservedly to me, with having an intensely personal and unique relationship with me alone, discovering that only in me is your satisfaction to be found, will you be capable of the perfect human relationship that I have planned for you. You will never be united with another until you are united with me, exclusive of anyone or anything else. exclusive of anyone or anything else, exclusive of any other longings or desires. I want you to stop planning, stop wishing, and please allow me to bring it to you. Just keep watching me, expecting great things, experiencing the satisfaction that I am. Keep listening and learning the things I tell you. Just wait -- that's all. Do not be anxious. Do not worry. Do not be anxious. Do not worry. Do not look at the things you think you want. Just keep looking off and away, up to me, or you will miss what I want to show you. And when you are ready, I will surprise you with a love far more wonderful than you could ever dream of. You see, until you are ready, and until the one I have for you is ready, (I am working at this moment to have both of you ready at the same time), until you are both satisfied exclusively with me and the life I have prepared for you, you will not be able to experience the love that exemplifies your relationship with me, and is thus a perfect love! And dear one, I want you to have this most wonderful love. I want you to see in the flesh a picture of your relationship with me, and to enjoy materially and concretely the everlasting union of beauty, perfection, and love that I offer you with myself. Know that I utterly love you. Believe it and be satisfied.

There are certain sins that I struggle with, and one of them is PRIDE. Having served nearly four years at a Christian College, putting the emphasis of my studies in theology and New Testament, it is easy for me to become a possessor of knowledge and to flaunt that knowledge over everyone’s heads. I can remember, during my sophomore year at college, preaching a sermon that was filled with great theology, great Christian terms—justification, sanctification, redemption, propitiation, liberation, resurrection—and feeling absolutely prideful about what I knew. I lorded my knowledge over the congregation. Looking back on this, I hang my head in shame. I was simply flaunting what I knew, and the pastoral nature of the sermon was lost over my own self-glorification. Realizing these things is difficult, and it is hard to look it in the face and see your own wretchedness staring back at you.

“How does this correspond to the text above?” One of my friends wrote this on her online blog, and the minute I read it, I itched to write a stinging reply attacking it from the perspective of theology, completely tearing apart the idea that God has a blueprint for our lives and that God brings our lovers to us as we patiently wait (both beliefs that I used to hold but became convinced, through the study of scripture, that they were unbiblical). I was ready to write a biting reply when the feeling of shame washed over me. That act would simply be me flaunting my knowledge, appearing smart and articulate, a way for me to plead for her to recognize me as a superior in the realm of theological studies. Ultimately, my reply would be a servant of my pride. I didn’t leave a reply, because my aim was not pastoral. And also because I realize that we must choose our battles.

When I was working in Minnesota as an Associate Pastor, I learned that we need to choose our battles. One of my great friends there, an older man by the name of Mel, held some pretty crazy theological views. He was such a good friend, and I do miss him deeply. We would often go fishing, several times a week. He taught me how to bring in Northern Pike, how to skin a fish and how to cook it to perfection. We would sometimes go out and catch our dinner, and we’d go back to his cottage deep in the woods and share great conversation over fish and poker. During these outings, we would often discuss theology. He is what you could call a bleeding-heart charismatic. He didn’t believe in systematic study of the scriptures, and he would pick and choose verses to support what you could believe. He believed in the Baptism of the Holy Spirit being distinguished from Water Baptism, and he believed that speaking in tongues was the greatest spiritual gift. From my theological perspective, these beliefs were not satisfactorily supported in the scriptures. I soon learned that we must pick and choose our battles: I could have tried to tear apart his theological framework, but what good would it do? It would be demeaning and heartless. This is not to say that we should not oppose false teaching, but what badness was coming into Mel’s life because of some of his strange beliefs? None whatsoever. Mel was deeply intimate with God, and I continually admire him for the man of God he is. He is an inspiration to me.

Yes, all of this comes back around to what my friend wrote on her blog. I may disagree with what she says, and I may be able to tear it apart from a theological perspective, but this belief is propelling her into a deeper and more meaningful life with her Creator. What she believes is not what I would call a danger to her faith. I may not agree with it, but it is helping to build her up spiritually. The essence of my post is this: we need to pick and choose our battles. When we attack someone’s theology or beliefs simply because they do not agree with ours, or when we attack someone’s beliefs simply because we can, I believe that the root of this is PRIDE, and pride is sinful. As a minister of the kingdom of God, and as a child of God, I am to defend the faith once and for all handed down to the saints, but this is not a license to inflate my ego or bathe in egocentrism.

The Question of Evil, Part III

The Freedom of God

The freedom of God is yet another attribute of God. It is precisely this attribute of God that leads to a greater understanding of why evil exists in the world. We must ask, though, “How is God free?” When we say that God is free, we are saying that He is an utterly undetermined Being. To proclaim that God is free is to state that God is free to do what He wants and how He wants to do it. Within Western Christianity, both Calvinists and Arminians will agree on this point. God is free. He is undetermined. He does what He wants and how He wants to do it. The issue becomes divided when the implications of this are brought forth with God’s creation of man. The Genesis account states that Man is created in God’s image. One way of interpreting this is to say that Mankind is not a collection of robots but free beings, creatures free to make decisions and to suffer the consequences of those decisions. This implication shines brightly in the realm of the question, “How can a loving God allow evil to exist?” If God has created Man free, then Man can make decisions with consequences that can—and will—affect others. God, if He honors making Man in His image, would be contradicting Himself by putting an end to every evil decision that results in evil actions (does this mean God never intervenes? No. This will be explored in a later installment). This attribute of God, and the implications thereof, will become even clearer when one theory to satisfy the question of evil emerges: “The Free Will Theory.” But before exploring the various theories that are presented to deal with this issue, we should first look at how the Question of Evil has been dealt with in various religions, including the ethical monotheistic religions such as Christianity.

encouragement and critiques

I have been a fan of yours for a while now. When I came across the free download for the “Dwellers of the Night” trilogy, I was overwhelmed. I finished the first two books in no time at all, and now I am waiting as patiently as possible for Book Three. When will the trilogy be completed? Why is the main character referred to as ‘the man’? Are you going to reveal the cause of the outbreak in the last installment? Why don’t you have these books produced in theaters? I am looking forward to hearing back from you. EXCELLENT WORK! I LOVE YOUR BOOKS!!!! Truly a fan, Rashae.

I received that email several days ago. It is always encouraging to hear that someone is reading my work and enjoying it. Currently I have around 8000 readers, and I receive emails often telling me good job, but I love it when readers ask questions and seek understanding regarding the book. It is great to get feedback, no matter if it is good or bad (I’ve received both). One day I may post some of the negative reviews I’ve gotten. As a writer, I am overly critical of my own work, so hearing from someone detached from me personally is encouraging. It is easy for friends or family to say, “Good job,” even when they don’t actually believe it themselves. To prevent myself from getting prideful, here are some negative views I’ve gotten:

It's a familiar plot: Some previously unknown disease kills a few people (let's call it Zombyitis). Of course the dead quickly reanimate as zombies and kill others making more and more zombies and within a short time, the whole world is made up of zombies. This tired old plot then focuses on the few survivors and their struggles against the zombie population. It seems like Zombie fiction writers can't deviate too far from this storyline. And unfortunately, Anthony Barnhart brings nothing new to the zombie table with '36 Hours'. It's the same tired old story, different town, a few different twists. 36 Hours is nothing but scene after scene of zombie pandemonium. There are very few interludes and transitions to smoothen out the story. Good writers use interludes and transitions to develop sub plots and develop their characters, thus strengthening their story. The few weak transitions and lame interludes in this book fall limp however and don't do anything for the story. The primary characters are teenagers and the character development is appropriately sophomoric. You never get to know them and things they do and say seem awkward and contrived in the context of this horrible book. Fortunately, it's free for the download, but I would be unhappy if I paid $11 for this. This is just yet another Zombie mess - Avoid it unless you are very easily entertained.

Is this thing really published? This looks like a story my 12 year old son would write.....If my 12 year old was high on Crack, Drunk and Retarded. This thing is so poorly written that you cannot help but continue to stare at this train wreck of a story and gasp in horror as the dialog goes from asinine to insane. You will cringe with pain as you continue to read each page just to see how if it can possibly get any worse- It can. Concerning Character depth and development, all I have to say is that you will find more depth and personality in Al Gore than you will in the pages of this...this....thing that is supposed to be a novel. All I have to say about this one is......Really, really, really BAD.

I'm not going to be too disparaging here, but I am shocked this was published in print. The grammar was atrocious, the character development was awful to non-existent and the "action" was so ham-handed and repetitive that I found myself blanking out and skimming whole pages of text.

In all honesty, these were regarding a book I wrote five years ago. My writing style has totally changed, and I have not received any bad reviews on “Dwellers of the Night” at this point in time. Also, for each negative review I received, I received at least three positive reviews. So I can't feel TOO awful, haha. It is sometimes difficult to read bad reviews, especially when the reviewers spend more time attacking the author than attacking the literary features of the story, but on the flip-side, these reviews have helped me hone my talent and really develop as a writer. I didn’t include some other negative reviews I received, because it turned out that those giving the reviews were just trying to lure people into reading their own work, which is too shady for me to even pay attention to.

The Question of Evil, Part II

[Some] Attributes of God

Before continuing to exploring some of the traditional answers to the question of, “How can a loving God allow Evil to exist?” I want to explore some of the attributes of God. This falls into the pale of rephrasing the question. God is loving, yes, but He is not all-loving, in the sense that “LOVE” is the only attribute that God has. I want to emphasize, too, that the attributes of God are simply descriptions of God. These attributes describe God’s nature and what He does, and these attributes are integrated and connected. Some of the attributes of God are below:

1. God is omnipotent. This simply means that God is all-powerful. Skeptics have often asked the questions, “Can God make a rock so heavy that He cannot lift it?” or “If God’s right arm and God’s left arm wrestle, which arm will win?” These questions are absurd, and since they are absurd, they cannot demand a logical answer. Perhaps the best answer to these questions is itself a question: “Why doesn’t God kill you right now for being an ass?” The answer: “Oh, yeah, because He is patient and benevolent.” God’s omnipotence can be adequately defined as: God can do anything He wants to do. God cannot do anything evil or irrational, because God is holy and logical.

2. God is omnipresent. This means that God is everywhere at once. Understanding this is essential to answering the question about evil. In the ancient Near East, the pagan religions stated that the gods were not all-present, and thus whenever something bad happened, or wherever evil flourished, the gods were not present. If we were to say that God is not all-present, it would answer the question about the existence and prosperity of Evil, but it would neglect God’s worth. Why ought we worship a God who is regional and limited geographically? But because God is all-present, the answer to the question of evil becomes even more intense. God is obviously present where evil flourishes, but it seems He does nothing.

3. God is omniscient. This means that God is all-knowing. It means that God knows everything that can possibly be known. Does He know that which cannot be known? Does He know possibly alternative futures? Does he even know alternative pasts? No one really knows. God knows what we are thinking even if we do not reveal it to others or even to Him. In the Book of Job, we see that God knows Satan’s plans even when Satan tries to hide them; God knows about the evil that exists in the world, and He is well-aware of how it is prosperous and flourishing. This, again, makes answering the question of evil even more difficult.

4. God is benevolent. This means that God’s attitude towards His creation is that of care, compassion, and good-will. The Hebrew language expounds upon God’s benevolence even more than any other attribute. This makes the question of evil more difficult to answer: God wishes good things for His creation, including humanity—scripture attests to this—but yet even the people of God experience evil in their lives and are often traumatized by it. It doesn’t seem like God’s benevolence is coming through.

5. God is Authentic. This means that God is more concerned with our hearts and lives than religious ritual.

6. God is Just. This is intimately connected to God’s benevolence; one who loves and cares bestows blessings upon the other person. God is Just, and He pursues justice. This raises another struggle to the table: God, who is Just, allows evil to exist and prosper. Where is His justice?

7. God is Holy. His holiness is seen in the fact that His very nature is holy, and that He will not even associate with evil.

These are some of the attributes of God that make the question of evil even more difficult to deal with. There is one attribute missing [note: this list is certainly not exhaustive], which is hotly debated amongst Christians, but what I believe holds the key to an adequate answer. This other attribute, which will be explored in my next post, ties in with God’s justice. Looking at these attributes of God, it seems that God is less and less deserving of our worship: He has the power to stop evil, He knows evil abounds, He is present where Evil abounds, He is a God who loathes Evil and seeks justice, and He is a God who is, according to scripture, seeking the good-will of His creation. None of this makes sense when we look evil straight in the face. Hopefully with the next attribute of God things will become clearer.

spring semester: the first week

Monday. Class started at 10:00. Job & Lamentations with Dan Dyke. I found a check in my school mailbox for $140. I spent most of the evening in my dorm room, laid over with a headache. I grabbed dinner from Pizza Hut and hung out with J.T., Morocco, and Kyle for a while. I went to WalGreens and bought some pens for note-taking. I called Jessie come nightfall, and we talked for a bit. Justin V. broke up with his girlfriend, and it’s probably a reliable guess that he will pursue Jessie. She’ll date him, and I’ll be kicked to the curb. *SIGH* But that’s how things go; history doesn’t lie.

Tuesday. I took a nap after Job & Lamentations and went to The Anchor for dinner. I’ve been there so much that the waitresses know me, and they have coffee waiting for me! Back in my dorm room, I did some editing and revising of losing touching searching, which I finished in 2007, before the start of my Junior Year at C.C.U. It’s actually very good—and depressing. It’s all about suffering, but at least it has a happy ending.

Wednesday. I cried today. I was on Chapter 4 in losing touching searching, where I write about how happy I was with Julie (a.k.a. Rebecca). The memories literally hurt. After class (33 pages of notes so far) I went to The Anchor again for a cheeseburger and coffee. I called Jessie to talk, but she was on the phone with (you guessed it!) Justin. I have been contemplating scripture all day today: Delight yourself in the Lord, and He will grant you the desires of your heart. Psalm 37.14.

Thursday. In class Dyke had me stand up in front of everyone, and he said, “This is my special friend. We share a secret no one else knows. I caught him doing something, nothing bad, a very wholesome thing, and when I think about it, it’s so funny that it makes me want to cry!” I met up with Jobst and took him to the tobacco shop in Florence, Kentucky where he bought a new pipe. We went to The Anchor and drank coffee, smoked, talked theology. I called Jessie tonight, and we talked for two hours! So much laughter and great conversation.

Friday. Class was over 12:15. I went back to Mom & Dad’s in Dayton, then went over to Dewenter’s house. We played chess, drank homemade beer, strummed on the guitar, and watched Planet of the Apes with Charlton Heston. Our evening concluded with coffee and cigarettes. Mom ordered pizza for dinner, a weird way to commemorate the 1-Year Anniversary of Doogie’s Death.

Saturday. I didn’t fall asleep until 5 AM last night, and I woke at 2 PM. I spent the afternoon writing, went to Dorothy Lane Market for a nice-sized rib-eye steak, and cooked it at home. I watched American History X and talked with Jessie for a while. Grandma M. came down from Tipp City. She’s here till the 14^th, then going down to Atlanta.

Sunday. Dad and I went to Showcase Cinemas by the Dayton Mall and saw the movie Gran Torino. I returned to campus and went to the Rine lobby where I hung out with Jessie, Faikham, and Deshay. They’re all in town for an early week. Bullard—a.k.a. “Stupid Farmer”—, Kyle, Gambill and I hung out till bedtime.

Gran Torino

Dad and I went to the theater this afternoon and saw this movie: “Gran Torino” with Clint Eastwood. Eastwood was before my time, but the few movies I’ve seen of his have been great. “Gran Torino” is no different. I recommend it, even if you don’t care much for Eastwood. The acting is great (at least Eastwood’s acting), and one of the characters—Sue—is pretty cute. I’ve always had a thing for Asian girls, I must admit.

I begin another Early Week class tomorrow: “Prayer & Spirituality.” The theology professor—a 60-year-old man who has tattoos up and down his arm, drives a Harley, and pretends to be Amish while performing Civil War reenactments—is teaching the class. I expect it will be pretty good. This time I am in the class with several friends: Trista, Kyle, Gambill. It should be good.

Yesterday’s post was pretty heavy. “The Question of Evil, Part II” will be posted tomorrow. I expect I will begin by giving some of the traditional answers to this question. There are about five or six I’ll be exploring. Any comments are definitely welcome.

The Question of Evil, Part I

“How can a loving God allow evil to exist?”

When I was in High School, I hung out with a group of agnostic friends. They knew I was a Christian, and they constantly attempted to shut down the way I understood reality. I used to be big into apologetics, and I was able to answer every question—or, rather, accusation—against Christianity that they proposed. Except one. “How can a loving God allow evil to exist?” There are a plethora of answers to this question, and it’s been a question that’s been wrestled with since the dawn of time. Even before God called Abraham, this question was dealt with in the ancient Near East. Judaism has wrestled with it. Christianity has wrestled with it. Zoroastrianism has wrestled with it. Islam has wrestled with it. Every ethical monotheistic religion has wrestled with it and continues to wrestle with it. I believe this is because the question is not one that can be answered adequately; while an answer may adequately fulfill the question in the intellectual realm, answers have failed to provide adequate emotional satisfaction. Thus when this question was proposed, I found myself able to spout off multiple answers, but I failed in the arena where it mattered much: personal existence. I do not claim to have the answer. It is one that I still struggle with, and one that I am quite confident of struggling with for the rest of my life. But there is a sense in which the question itself must be examined in order to understand what kind of answer is requested.

In conversation between two people with different metanarratives (worldviews, perspectives, or understandings of reality)—in this case, Christian theism (X) and Atheism/Agnosticism (Y)—there are barriers that must be broken down. Between X and Y, the question is often regarding the existence of God and the reality of evil in the world. This question—this barrier—is often poised as intellectual, but often the question is simply a way for Y to avoid God for personal issues (i.e. wanting a life of moral freedom and no restraint due to God’s existence and subsequent authority in the arena of moral life). The task of X is to discover the real barrier, and the discourse should involve both an intellectual and veiled personal barrier being present.

The question—“How can a loving God allow evil to exist?”—is a loaded question. No matter how you answer, you’re answer will not be adequate. If a loving God allows evil to exist, then He is not loving. If God does not allow evil to exist, then He is not all-powerful. In response to such a question—“How can a loving God allow evil to exist?”—perhaps our answer would best be, “There is no such God.” Because God is not only loving. When X is asked this question, X needs to rephrase the question and answer. This makes sense, because Y will not, in the majority of cases, understand X’s belief system more than X. The traditional question is too simplistic, such as, “Is light a particle or a wave?” It’s both. X’s response to Y’s question needs to clarify three points: 1. The True God, 2. The Identity of True Evil, and 3. The Nature of Bad Things. X must make the question fit the reality of evil. The question, if to be answered by X, needs to be true to X’s theological roots. For example, Y cannot ask X a question brought forth from a Hindu worldview. X must rephrase the question to be true to X’s theological framework. “But how do we do this?”

Perhaps we should first start off with, “Assume this with me…” This brings Y into X’s world, into the Christian theism perspective. It also mellows-out hostility or antagonism. It is then that we should begin to rephrase the question: “If God is X…” This assumes Christian theism and God’s existence. X stands for attributes or characteristics of God. This does not limit the question God’s love; it opens the door to the totality of God’s attributes and the integration of these attributes into an understanding of God’s nature. After all, attributes are simply descriptors—failing, at times—of God’s nature, and thus these descriptors are not independent of one another but combined in an elegant balance. These attributes are descriptors of a person, not a machine. To rephrase the question, we must affirm the EXISTENCE of God and the NATURE of God.

And then we continue rephrasing the question: “If God is X then how can He allow Evil, which is Y…” Y defines evil into two divisions: 1. Personal Evil (Satan, demons, etc.) and 2. Consequential Evil (real, genuine evil; and apparent evil, those things that are not really evil, but interpreted as Evil through human lens). There is a real and genuine evil that exists. This evil is what was seen in the Holocaust when Jewish children became blood factories for the Nazi army. It is seen in the present with what takes place on State Avenue, down the road from my house: 8-year-old girls being sold as prostitutes for $3 a piece. This is real, genuine Evil. But there is also Apparent Evil—things that are not evil but interpreted as such. For example, a cheetah tearing apart an antelope. “That’s evil!” we exclaim. No. It’s how God created things, and He declared it good in Genesis. There’s also the pain we feel when we step onto a rusted nail and it shoots through our foot and digs into the bone. The pain is immense, but it is not Evil. In answering this question, we must distinguish what Evil really is. That is what is at stake here: the identity of evil and God allowing it to exist. Ultimately, the key word here is Allow. God does not create evil, nor force it to happen, but He allows it to happen (which raises questions regarding theodicy, God’s justice; but I’m not going to deal with that right now).

Once X has identified Evil and emphasized that God allows it to exist, the rephrasing ought to continue. “If God is X, and He allows Evil, which is Y, to exist and prosper…” The issue is not merely the existence of Evil, but rather its prosperous, all-consuming nature. The prosperity of evil is evident en masse, and it is numbing and horrific. The prosperity of evil deals not with “bad things” or “misfortune”. Those are not evil. The prosperity of evil is seen in rape, murder, child molestation, sex trafficking, genocide… The list goes on and on. If we do not address the issue of evil’s prosperity, then we fail to answer the question.

The question continues to be rephrased: “If God is X, and He allows Evil, which is Y, to exist and prosper, then how can He still be worthy of Z?” Z here refers to that which God demands of His creation: adoration, devotion, dedication, commitment, service, loyalty, honor, praise, worship, dignity, thanks. The list goes on and on. This is the biggest part of the question. “Sure,” Y might say, “God exists, and sure, He may allow Evil to exist and prosper… but why give Him Z?” This question MUST be answered.

Rephrasing of the question is often shocking to Y, because Y wishes to stump or embarrass X, and X proceeds to complicate and exacerbate the problem! “In complicating the question, in making it more severe, how then do we answer it?” This post is already way too long. If you’re actually reading this part (unless you’ve skipped down to the last paragraph after seeing the breadth of the post), good for you! So I’m not going to propose any answers right now. I’m going to leave that for later. This is a really big question, and it deserves an adequate answer. If you have any comments, feel free to leave them. If you don’t agree with me, that’s totally fine. Christians all across the world, all across the span of church history, have disagreed with one another on this subject. Why not continue the heritage?

I have been accused of being too depressing in my writing. These accusations are well-founded. My family doesn’t read my work, not because they think I am a bad writer, but because my books are too depressing. “Why don’t you write something that’s not about suffering?” my mom asked me once. My grandma, who read "Dwellers of the Night: Book One", was amazed at how well-written it was, but she refuses to read the other two books of the trilogy. Why? It is too much for her to handle.

Cormac McCarthy, one of my favorite writers—the author of "No Country for Old Men" and "The Road"—said in an interview, regarding authors who do not deal with the issues of life, death, and suffering in their books, “To me, that’s not literature. A lot of writers who are considered good I consider strange.” I agree with McCarthy: if someone wants to write something that resembles reality, then suffering, pain, and death cannot be ignored. As Ernest Hemmingway, one of my inspirations, said when confronted by a woman who accused him of being too pessimistic and morose in his literature, “All stories, if continued far enough, end in death, and he is no true story-teller who would keep that from you.”

Everything I have ever written is saturated with the question and reality of suffering. My most recent work, "losing touching searching", deals with it from a Judeo-Christian (and, admittedly, eistentialist) perspective. My current work, "Dwellers of the Night", approaches it from a nihilistic perspective. My future work "the toothless kiss of skeletons" will explore suffering from a naturalistic worldview, and "In Memoriam: Infractus Fatum" will explore it from a deist’s point-of-view. "Sunset Royale" will approach suffering from a Christian theism perspective. My writing is drenched with suffering not because I am a sadist who is obsessed with it, but because suffering is an intrinsic reality in our world, something that bonds all humanity—man and woman, rich and poor, slave and free, tyrant and subject—together. If my writing were not to deal with this supreme issue, then… What in the world would it be worth?

musings on Evil

I can remember it as if it were yesterday. I can remember standing ankle-deep in the snow, clutching the razor blade tightly between two fingers. I remember feeling the numbing cold against my skin, and I remember the feeling of watching the steaming blood crawl between the deep canyons I carved in my own forearm. I remember how the slashing at my own flesh grew quicker and quicker, and I remember how the tears, crawling down from my eyes, froze upon my cold-blotched cheeks. I can remember raising my hands to Heaven, staring up into the giant snowflakes falling all around me, and I remember a torrent of words escaping my lips, a torrent of words that I dare not repeat even in closed settings, words that were directed at God…

The words I spoke paralyzed me, and when the suffering passed (if only for a season), I wondered if God would ever forgive me for the words I spoke in my pain. It was then that I read the Book of Job and the Book of Jeremiah. Both of these men cried out to God, both of these men said things better left unsaid. Jeremiah called God a thief and a rapist. But yet God forgave these men. Why? I think it is because their words were born out of suffering, and God forgives even the cruelest words that find their root in our agonizing pain. The event that I described happened many years ago, but it lives fresh in my mind.

“Why is there suffering in the world? Why does Evil exist, and why does it prosper?”

This is a big question, a question that deserves no easy, pat, or “Christianized” answer. I have wrestled and struggled with this question for many, many months, even several years. I am not the only one who has suffered—from the days of the ancient Near East, all through Judaism, all through Christianity, this question has been bit into and fought with. And no one seems to have a perfect answer. Perhaps the best answer is, “It’s a mystery?” But I’m not content with that.

losing touching searching

I have been revisiting and editing a book I wrote back in 2007 entitled “losing touching searching.” I was going to make it public, but I decided not to because of its intensely personal nature. Reading through it, however, I can’t help but realize that the book can relate to so many people. It’s a fictional autobiography—fictional, because it incorporates lots of fictional conversations and scenes; but autobiographical, because it is the story of great suffering I went through during my second year at college—and it is a beautiful, majestic work. I am still amazed at some of the things I wrote down, how relevant they are to me still to this day. So I have decided to edit, revise, add some stuff, delete some stuff, and do my best to make it available to the public. The book right now is 273 pages long, but it will probably be longer when I’m done (revising, with me, usually entails much more addition than subtraction). Because of this, my work on “Dwellers of the Night” has been put to the side. This is a good thing; I like to set current projects aside and return to them later, because it helps me be more creative.