The Last Man Alive

"How would you know if you were the last man on earth? he said.
I don’t guess you would know it. You’d just be it.
It wouldn’t make any difference. When you die it’s the same as if everybody else did too.
I guess God would know it. Is that it?" (McCarthy 169-170)


I pose a question:

What if I was the last man alive?

I struggle to answer:

I don’t know what my faith would look like if I were the last man alive. So much of Christianity is based on community and relationship. There are individual aspects of Christianity, but there are also communal aspects of Christianity. Is a Christian life complete when only the individual disciplines are exercised? How do I live like Jesus when there is no one to express Christlike character towards? The mission of the Church is to make disciples of all people. How could I make disciples without people to disciple? The Church is made up of many members. I would be the only member left. Is that Church? Scripture tells us that where two or more are gathered God is in the midst of them. Would He still be there the same if He had only to be in the midst of one? The great commandment of the Church is to love God and love people. But there are no people. Is it possible to love God without any people to love? How can I exercise my faith? How can I feed Jesus when He’s hungry, clothe Him when He’s naked, and visit Him in prison without other people alive?

The Westminster Shorter Catechism says that, “Man’s chief end is to glorify God, and to enjoy him forever.” Maybe I can do this alone. Maybe I don’t need people around me with whom I can exercise my faith, but I don’t know. Maybe I do. There would be struggle involved. How would I relate to God in a world that is all dead except me and Him, and He not even physically manifested or fully revealed to me yet until I die too?

These questions find no rest.




McCarthy, Cormac. The Road. New York: Vintage International, 2006. Print.

The Living Dead

“How do we treat the living dead?”
Most of us would probably laugh at this question because zombies are not real, but there are many people on earth who can be categorized as “the living dead.” They are the spiritually, and eternally dead. How do we treat them?

On pages 110-111 of The Road, the father and son find some people who are living dead men. Their fate is sealed. They will die soon, and no mercy awaits them. The cannibals who have them as prisoners will show no sympathy, but how do the father and son treat these “living dead?” The father’s natural instinct is to take his son and run as fast as they can. His and his son’s survival are his first priority. He sees these living dead and views their condition as a warning and he does not want to stick around long enough to even think about the depth of their pain.

Do we Christians do the same thing? Do we many times look at unsaved people – the living dead – and think that we just need to run away as fast as possible, or that we need not stick around long enough to see the depth of their need for God? We tend to be very earthly-minded. We worry about what people might think of us or about the sacrifices involved in spending time discipling a baby Christian and convince ourselves that they are too dangerous to be around and we should run away.

But shouldn’t the “living dead” be the people who stir up our deepest compassion? While we worry about our image or our time and want to do with it what we will. We may even be afraid of trying to help those in spiritual chains to break free. But as we focus on these earthly things, our God in heaven is looking at the soul of the people who live without him. He is looking with deep compassion at those who are destined to live eternity without him. Philippians 3:19 informs us that we should have our minds set on heavenly things. We should strive to set our minds on the things that God sets His mind on. When we do, we will no longer look at the “living dead” that live around us and run, but we will instead risk even our earthly lives for the sake of their heavenly ones.

iSin

My inspiration for this piece came from pg. 247-248 of Peace Like a River: “You can embark on new and steeper versions of your old sins, you know, and cry tears while doing it that are genuine as any.”


Why do I keep returning to my own vomit?
Why am I not repulsed by the growing stench of myself?
A creature stupid enough to wallow in my own feces.

Shouldn't I be more afraid of this thirst?
Shouldn't I be more afraid of this darkness?
Shouldn't I be more afraid of this avalanche?

Tears are ever-shackled to my face
So long as I refuse to submit to a cure .

Wrestling with God

Jeremiah does not like Mr. Andreeson, and he definitely does not want to accompany Mr. Andreeson in his search for Davy. For most people there seems to be a simple solution: do not assist Mr. Andreeson. But Jeremiah Land does not lead himself to do what seems right and best by conventional wisdom. He is a man guided through prayer. On pages 217-218 of Peace Like a River, Jeremiah “wrestles” with God in prayer through words and physicality over what he should do in regards to Mr. Andreeson. He raises his voice against God. This scene reminds me of the Biblical story of Jacob wrestling with God.

In Genesis 32:21-32, Jacob wrestles with God and receives a blessing from Him. It is interesting though what happens in verse 30 after the “wrestling match” is over: “So Jacob called the name of the place Peniel, saying, ‘For I have seen God face to face, and yet my life has been delivered.’” Jacob reveals in this statement that it is an extraordinary thing to have seen God and lived. It shows the level of fear that he had toward God, knowing that he is blessed even to be alive after what had occurred. Isaiah, in Isaiah 6, responds likewise with an attitude of fear at the presence of God, exclaiming that he should be dead in His presence. Similarly in Peace Like a River, Roxanna responds with an attitude much like Jacob and Isaiah. “At this Roxanna covered her mouth, for it occurred to her with Whom he wrestled. Having long ago accepted the fact of God, Roxanna had not conceived of going toe to toe with Him over any particular concern” (217-218). This is the type of response I would have. Who could possibly wrestle with the living God? Who would dare face the Creator of the Universe? Yet in the Biblical story of Jacob we see a man do it, and in this scene from Peace Like a River we see a man do it. The final question then that is raised in my mind is this: How must a man know God to be willing to wrestle with Him?


Enger, Leif. Peace Like A River. New York: Grove Press, 2001. Print.

Dogs Don't Go To Heaven

“How many times does a dog have to bite before you put him down?” (36). This was Davy’s question.

Two guys attempted to molest a girl he liked, they vandalized his front door, and they took his little sister from their home. What else would they have to do to before Davy’s father felt it was time to pursue some form of justice? Shouldn’t they do something to keep these guys away? How many more times would these two guys have to “bite” before they were put down? Why did Davy’s father not seem to be as upset by the situation as Davy? This situation reminds me of another man who had a similar question as Davy: Peter.

“Then Peter came to Jesus and asked, ‘Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother or sister who sins against me? Up to seven times?’” (Matt. 18: 21)
Peter seemed to be thinking the same thing as Davy: “this person did something bad to me, why don’t we retaliate?” Davy’s father and Jesus both had great things to say about this though. First, Davy’s father makes the statement that they had already won despite the way everything appeared, showing the victory that we all have in Christ. Then, “Jesus answered, ‘I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times.’” (Matt. 18:22). Jesus said not to retaliate or even to hold a grudge, but to love and forgive.

The thing that intrigues me most though is not directly found in the previous passage or in the father’s explanation. The thing that intrigues me is that these two bad men are not Christians, so is it ever ok to “put down these dogs if they bite enough.” Nate Saint and Jim Elliot were part of a famous 5-man mission team that died at the hands of a hostile Indian tribe in Ecuador they were trying to reach. They had guns, but they did not use them against the Indians even for self defense. They decided ahead of time that they would under no circumstances use their weapons against the Indians because the Indians were not prepared for heaven but the missionaries were. No matter how many times the dogs bite, they should not be put down because dogs don’t go to heaven.


Enger, Leif. Peace Like A River. New York: Grove Press, 2001. Print.

Oranges

In the poem “Oranges” by Gary Soto, the two oranges that the young boy begins the poem with have very rich symbolism. At every major point of his journey, the oranges add a strong degree of meaning. Before we look at the specific symbolic meaning of the oranges in this text though, we must first look at the general use of oranges as a symbol. The online Dictionary of Symbolism constructed by Allison Protas has this to say about oranges: “Like many fruits, the orange has become predominantly a symbol of fertility; if it is depicted in Paradise, it is the fruit of the Fall, occasionally replacing the apple as the Forbidden fruit. As a color, orange is most often linked to flame and fire, conveying their qualities. Orange can also mean luxury.” Some of this symbolism finds itself in Gary Soto’s poem. Although there is nothing related to fertility in this poem, it is about a relationship between a boy and a girl, which makes it suitable for this story. Probably most significant is the idea that “orange is most often linked to flame and fire, conveying their qualities,” because at the end of this poem, the young boy states that:

I peeled my orange
That was so bright against
The gray of December

That, from some distance,
Someone might have thought
I was making a fire in my hands. (1051)

There is also some symbolism in this poem that relies on the context of the poem to determine. The poem begins with the boy saying that he was “cold and weighted down with two oranges in my jacket” (1051). The oranges are symbolic of his feelings. All of us have experienced the nervousness of being with someone that we liked just as this twelve year old boy is experiencing it here. The second time the oranges provide rich symbolism is in the drugstore. His desire to impress the girl is expressed by his confident presentation of an orange to the cashier. When the cashier accepts the orange as payment from him, the orange instantly gains significant worth. It now symbolizes his success in impressing his girl. As they walk home and he begins peeling the remaining orange, it is no longer simply an orange but a symbol of determination, affection, and success.



Protas, Allison. Dictionary of Symbolism. n.p., n.d. Web. 21 March 2011.

Soto, Gary. “Oranges.” The Literary Experience. Ed. Beiderwell, Bruce and Jeffrey M. Wheeler. Boston: Thomson Wadsworth, 2008. 1051. Print.

Repaying Mother

The poem “Lanyard” speaks to every individual who has had a loving mother. It evokes memories in all of us of the ridiculous gifts we gave our moms that seemed to mean so much to them. It draws all of us in and invites us to look back to see the truth about our mothers’ love.

I remember when I was young how I used to admire so greatly the professional hallmark cards. To me they seemed like such a great gift for my mother’s birthday because they were far beyond the artistic beauty that I could have ever mustered. But my Dad told my siblings and I to make a card for our mother instead. I remember thinking at the time that my dad just did not want to spend the money, which may have been partially true, but the impact that the homemade card had on my mother was much more significant than hallmark could ever have created. It seemed as though all of the pain of child bearing, all the sacrifice for our comfort, and all the gifts she gave us were all worth that moment. All her love to us was returned in that one act of ours. It was as if the magnitude of all she had done for us was given back to her in the same measure, just as Matthew 4:24 says, “with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.”

This poem really just made me reflect on the love of a mother. With selflessness she toils and endures pain for her children. Her acts of love are innumerable. Yet because of the selfless nature of that love, she expects nothing in return. To her a score of 100-0 appears even. So when something is given in return, she feels as though she has received a gift and is blessed far more than the children she blesses. This also made me think of the selfless love of Christ. Because of the nature of his grace, nothing we can do for Him is sufficient to repay Him, but He doesn’t care – He just loves us.