It Keeps Coming Up

Once again I find myself pondering the meaning of this temporal existence we call life. I deeply value the assistance that has been offered by the likes of Victor Frankl but still suffer that existential angst that comes from vaguely knowing there is not an answer to the question. I realize that I am not alone. For many, relief from the anxiety is found in concrete and absolute answers. How else can popular brands of Christianity that have little or nothing to do with the life and teachings of Jesus be explained? How else can the absurdities of neo-conservatism appealing to nearly half of all Americans be explained? I am my father’s son, and while having grown up reasoning that the quest for Truth is An Endless Search has afforded me some ability to deal with the ambiguity, it is a nagging that I cannot put to rest. Perhaps my role in the cosmic scheme is really nothing more than to produce in order to consume. I flatter myself that my purpose is to serve my Creator, but what does that mean in the context of a theology that shuns anthropomorphosis? It is the end of another week of work, and I will do well to observe the Sabbath during my days off that I may grow—perhaps not by acquiring any answers—in the enlightenment that may come from feeling more comfortable with the question.