I wake up most mornings of the opinion that life is meaningless and that there is nothing actually worth getting out of bed to do.
Before you argue, I appeal to Ecclesiastes to demonstrate that such thoughts are not necessarily melodramatic and nor are they simply evidence that my brain has been hijacked by a chemical imbalance.
“I hated life because the work that was done under the sun was distressing to me, for all is vanity and grasping for the wind” (Eccl 2:17).
I don’t really feel like explaining in detail why I think life is meaningless. Take a whiff of Ecclesiastes and maybe you will get it. Or play 'What's the Point' (start with anything you please and then keep asking yourself ‘what’s the point’ until you think you've struck meaning). I very rarely strike meaning. Here is a failed attempt at "What's the Point".
Hypothetical Parent Figure: You should get out of bed.
Me: What’s the point?
Hypothetical Parent Figure: Because it’s a beautiful day out.
Me: So I get up, stare at the beautiful day for like 12 hours, then go back to bed. What’s the point?
Hypothetical Parent Figure: Come on. Get up and we’ll go for a walk.
Me: Uh. What’s the point?
Hypothetical Parent Figure: You just need to get up and do something. When did you last work on your homework?
Me: What’s the point of doing anything?
Hypothetical Parent Figure: Just get up and have something to eat and some exercise and you will feel better.
Me: What’s the point of eating and exercising and feeling better?
Hypothetical Parent Figure: So you can live your life! So you can be happy and make people around you happy. Because we love you. (So we don’t have to stress out about you lying in bed all day). Because you have so much potential and you can’t waste it. Etc etc.
Me: ....what’s the point?
Okay so that was a bad example considering that I’m already way past the point of no return and there is next to nothing which you can say to which I will respond THAT’S THE POINT! Hopefully it will work better for you. And actually that entire scenario was more for comic relief and filler than anything. Also maybe to realize some pent up frustration.
So the only conclusion to "What's the Point" that I've found satisfaction with is that God actually exists and we are supposed to know about Him and love Him (and just because I think God is the only solution to ‘what’s the point’ doesn't mean I made Him up).
Therefore, in conclusion, whether or not I can get out of bed is dependent on whether or not I remember the only One who makes anything have any meaning for me.
The problem is often times I don’t want to remember Him. Sometimes I don’t even think I can remember Him. Other times I refuse to remember Him. And yet other times it just seems too hard to remember Him. Sometimes all I can think about is, despite the number of times I have remembered, how many times I've still forgotten.
But here’s the unavoidable: my life actually is pointless without God. I can’t get anything to stir up passion or excitement but God. Nothing is holistic enough or wise enough or permanent enough to be ‘purpose’ material but God. And I want God even when I don’t want God. Although this may currently appear to be to my detriment, I am unalterably convinced of this.
I am exhausted by and ashamed of my failures to trust God. I am discouraged by my own mess of a mind. I am glad that I am not dependent on me but dependent on God. Even if this blog post makes no logical sense and is bent towards desperately pessimistic tendencies, God testifies of Himself apart from the gibberish that my brain produces. His promises remain true even though I flounder about within them. His plan to magnify His love and wisdom and holiness goes unhindered by my inadequacy. And His grace remains mine despite everything.
Something that lets me know I'm not alone. And helps.
