Origins and Suffering

Chapter 26| What Matters
Could it be that it is not all about us? Why was this universe and earth created in the first place?
This world is all we have known, and therefore it is natural for us to think about ourselves and our place in it. We are trying to survive, and self-preservation trumps everything else. No matter how hard we try, we only experience life from our point of view.
What is the purpose to my life or yours? Do our lives have meaning, or are we all like a bunch of insects wandering around? I did not choose to be born. Did you? But here we are. Our lives either have meaning or they don’t. If our lives have no meaning, what difference does anything make?
The problem is that a lot of things matter to each of us. What matters to you? Does anything matter to you? Make a list. I’ll make one for me, and chances are, some of the things that mean a great deal to me also mean a great deal to you.
My wife matters to me because we share our lives together. We spend time together and enjoy each other. We depend on each other. We talk about our joys and sorrows. We pray together and believe that God cares about us.
Children matter. My children mattered in their cribs and when they went to school. Now that they are in their forties, we have become friends in the unique way a child matures from total dependency to becoming his or her own person.
I’ve mostly been a long-distance parent, and this was the case when I was a child. I went to boarding school at the age of fourteen, and so did my kids. They know I am there for them, and I know it means a lot because I always knew my mom and dad were there for me.
Grandchildren are absent in my life. Sandy and I don’t have any; nor will we. But I am told by those who have them that I am missing out on a real source of happiness.
The circle widens as we interact with our families—siblings, cousins, aunts, and uncles—and friends. I have employees who have worked over forty years for me; others have been with me thirty-five years and some for twenty-five years. They are like family, and I see them enjoying their grandchildren usually via photos on their phones.
As I age, I miss the people I once knew. I sometimes joke that the only reason I get the local newspaper is to read the obituary section to find out which patients I have lost. Life means something to me. I believe we were made to enjoy life, and although death is all around all the time, it should not consume us. Death is abhorrent because we were designed for life.
Some things are profoundly meaningful. What things are important to you? If time and chance is the reason everything exists, what difference does anything make? When everything screams of design, organization, and intelligence, is it that hard to accept the notion the Creator cares about you as much as you care about the people and things you value?
This what-matters-to-you thing could go on for a long time. But I need to include one more mystery item in my list. I could write a book about myself playing the piano. I am not talking about listening to music. This is the narrow slice of me playing the piano. For me, this is not merely a hobby. My biggest fear in going to Viet Nam for a year was that I might not be able to play a piano.
Twenty-five years ago, I bought a Yamaha six-foot grand piano. It remains in mint condition. I have always been proud of it. It gives me special delight to show it to others. The most amusing thing about it is the reaction I get by everyone who has seen it so far. I can almost read the minds of people as they look at it. It goes something like this, “If anyone deserves this fantastic and very expensive piano, it would be Jim. But there is no way I would spend what he must have on that piano.” My piano is about the only thing I own that no one has been jealous of having. No one who has seen it resents that I do have it.
When I purchase a new car, the background chatter gets really loud. It becomes either a coveted object or a stupid purchase. Cars don’t mean much to me except they run and are paid for. Others, however, usually have a positive or negative judgement. The piano gets zero emotional response except people are genuinely glad I have it and just as glad they don’t.
Now back to the main topic. For what reason was this world created? And why are we here? Let me give you a clue. It wasn’t primarily for us. Life, as we know it, is not fair.
God is always demonstrating the difference between selflessness, which is His love, and selfishness, which cannot coexist in His sphere of real freedom. Love implies choices. Choice implies freedom. And real freedom implies consequences.
Like what is featured in any book or movie, the main themes of life are love and hate, life and death, good and bad. Plain and simple, the highest created being is at war with his Maker, and the Creator-God is demonstrating there is nothing He would not do for His creation or everything He has created. Our Creator-God longs for non-coerced gratitude in return for the love He has for all of us.
He always had a plan, and it is ongoing. It is not about us. It’s about Him. For the most part, we don’t get it.
Ready or not, 1,500 years of silence.