A Moment in Time
Jeff Morris
A Moment in Time
Copyright © 2018 Jeff Morris. All rights reserved. Except for brief quotations in critical publications or reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced in any manner without prior written permission from the publisher. Write: Permissions, Wipf and Stock Publishers, 199 W. 8th Ave., Suite 3, Eugene, OR 97401.
Resource Publications
An Imprint of Wipf and Stock Publishers
199 W. 8th Ave., Suite 3
Eugene, OR 97401
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paperback isbn: 978-1-5326-6207-2
hardcover isbn: 978-1-5326-6208-9
ebook isbn: 978-1-5326-6209-6
Manufactured in the U.S.A. 10/04/18
To my mom and dad, for demonstrating the way of love.
Preface
It’s often true that we only appreciate a thing when it’s contrasted with its opposite. I can offer a few examples to illustrate the point. Spring temperatures are most coveted just after a long cold winter, but even after just a few weeks, we begin to hear complaints about the heat. The same is true in terms of our health. I normally don’t give much thought to the fact that I’m in good health—blessed with the ability to do physical labor or even climb a mountain, if I felt so inclined—until I fall ill with the flu. It’s only after a few days of being incapacitated that I feel an overwhelming sense of relief when I return to my “normal” state, which, in retrospect, is an appreciation I should carry nearly all the time. We find an even more accessible example in being hungry or thirsty. I’m sure everyone has experienced a moment of extreme thirst, when a simple cup of water seemed as though it were a miracle from heaven, because it was a moment when the contrast between being really thirsty, and not thirsty at all, was most wide.
It’s in this context that our main character finds himself, as I believe we all often do, without necessarily realizing it. We’re all confronted with a stark contrast in how we could perceive reality. On the one hand, we could understand existence as a matter of random chance—meaningless—and on such a view we are forced to relinquish things such as rationality, love, morality, gratitude, and even beauty. On the other hand, if we believe that life is objectively meaningful, the whole thing turns on its head. We believe we will find order in nature, that logic is possible, that murder really is wrong, and that beautiful pieces of art or the gentle touch from our beloved are worthy of gratitude. I don’t think many people would question the merit in accepting the second option as the more palpable one, but the problem we encounter is that meaning can only be had if we accept that God is the one who created us—a situation our pride, and secular culture, has something to comment on, even for all of its benefits.
In all of these contrasts, there’s also a third way of perceiving reality, and it’s one that we simple creatures fall into all too easily. This would be to take a position of apathy and walk through the middle, so to speak. On this view, one doesn’t understand that life, or our actions, are meaningful, but neither does one attempt to fully live out (as though it were logically possible) a meaningless existence. It’s here that we often find ourselves, both the religious and non-religious, paralyzed in a sort of existential purgatory. It’s an easy trap to fall into because although the seasons change, and the sun comes up new every morning, we end up doing our daily business with a sense of ordinariness, as though flowers and chipmunks are “normal.” It’s here that we no longer contemplate the majesty of the great oak tree, or stand in awe of a ravishing thunderstorm. This state of indifference is one which, for obvious reasons, all of us should encourage each other to avoid. For what if the mechanic just didn’t feel like tightening your lug nuts, or the engineer didn’t find it necessary to measure for the right load-bearing joists, or the doctor didn’t really care if he killed all the cancer cells, or the father didn’t try to love his children even after they disappointed him? I believe it’s unavoidable that any sort of relativist or postmodern view will lead to precisely this kind of passive attitude, and that we should, at all costs, religious or not, try to prevent it. It might have been avant-garde to conjure these modern ideas, but it’s a real drag to live them out.
According to the Bible, it makes perfect sense that our attitudes toward life would often fall into one of these three camps. It says that God made people in order to be in a loving relationship with them, and therefore we have an intrinsic sense of longing to be with him. The problem is that Adam sinned, as we all often do—the ramification of creating creatures that know they exist, we just can’t get over ourselves—and we currently reside in a place where we don’t quite belong. To me this account of the world makes the most sense to explain things like suffering, evil, guilt, where we came from, beauty, courage, love, and why so many of us experience a real relationship with God. If there was no God, there would be no such thing as love, or even suffering. It also leads us down three often intersecting roads: (1) We hold close to God and trust that we will be with him some day without the interruption of sin. (2) We curse God for our own selfishness, even denying his existence. Or, (3) we generally coast along and find our meaning in simple pleasures or work, wishing for the whole experience to be over very soon, or at the very least, without any more suffering. Of course, the first road is where Christians generally want to travel, but even believers find themselves on the other two roads more often than we would like to admit. Thank our heavenly father for forgiveness.
If you’re not a Christian, then after reading the story you might have questions regarding the truth of Christianity. You might wonder why you should choose Christianity over other religions, or why you can’t be a rational naturalist, or how we know that God isn’t evil rather than good and loving, and I encourage you to continue on your quest for answers. You’ll come across many opinions against the claims about God, his son, and his spirit, but with a little bit of tact, you’ll be able to see that anger and deceit often cloud the arguments against him. Don’t forget your Bible stories. Jesus spent his time healing the poor, sick, and lonely, and they crucified him for it. You may also be tempted to judge the whole thing based on the reputation of Christians you know, or the crusades, or some other atrocity done in the name of Christianity, but this would be a mistake. The only reputation that matters is that of Jesus Christ, the historic man who the entire world developed their calendar around, and whose birth we celebrate at Christmas, because he is the only perfect example of how a Christian ought to be. I’ve never in all my life heard of a case when someone sought to understand God with a genuine heart and didn’t find Him.
For certain parts of the book I’ve set aside my personal views to explore the contrast to them. I found the task interesting for the most part, but also tedious at times. On a few occasions I wanted to wring a certain character’s neck, but since I know the stubbornness of my own heart, I developed a sort of patience with the man.
It’s also worth noting that I make no doctrinal claims, other than what’s generally agreed upon by Christians around the world. Any appearance of being denomination-specific is just that—an appearance.
Jeff Morris
Acknowledgements
Thank you, Tim, for diving with me endlessly into the bit of things. And thank you, Lisa, for taking on the challenge of editing such a work as this.
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