Versión Español pendiente
It’s been nearly three months since the earthquake hit.
Terra and I were in a Mega, which is a store kind of like a Superstore (in Canada) or a Walmart Super Center. My memories of the actual event are kind of chaotic: a feeling that something was a bit off, then realizing it was an earthquake; watching a pop bottle explode and fly over a shelf through the air; trying to pull Terra to move faster so we could get out while she paused to put down the groceries; attempting to step over a puddle from a broken bottle and being annoyed/amused because it wouldn’t stay still so I could step over it; looking up and seeing the lights sway and wondering if anything – like the roof! – was going to fall; and seeing two workers lead their coworker, who was crying and obviously terrified, out of the store. Then it was over, and we were standing outside trying to process what had just happened and what we should do next.
I don’t want to overdramatize the event. I can’t honestly say that I was afraid at the time – I simply knew we needed to get out and was focused on that. And the initial aftermath was pretty calm as well. We managed to get word from our kids’ schools fairly quickly (within about 10 minutes) that the boys were all fine and started heading that way to pick them up. We communicated with family that we were fine. There was no really obvious damage right where we were, and we didn’t see anything major on our way to get the kids, so it seemed like a good shake, but nothing too serious. It was more interesting and adrenaline-inducing than scary.
It was only after we arrived home that we began to understand the severity of it. A little over 30 buildings collapsed, about 3000-4000 were damaged, and over 350 people dead – although we wouldn’t know those numbers for a few weeks. To be honest, in a city of over 20 million, that’s not that much damage percentage-wise. What was more striking was the fact that there were three buildings just a few blocks from us that had collapsed, and some of our teammates whose houses had been so damaged that they had to move out (ours was fine). It was when we discovered that that things began to feel a little more surreal.
Over the following week, we got used to streets being blocked off, crowds of people working and digging through rubble, and constant sirens (the photo above is one of the buildings that collapsed a few blocks from us). The city seemed to be in a frantic trance for the first few weeks, and it has been in a slow recovery since then. For most people, things are back to normal – although definitely not for those who lost family, friends, possessions or homes. Or for those who lost the security of living each day without worrying when the ground will shake again, a mental and emotional loss that can be extremely long lasting. I know that it hits me at times. I notice it most when I’m out walking or driving and suddenly feel like I have to figure out the safest place to go if an earthquake were to hit – where is the shortest building that is least likely to collapse?
But for me, there has been one realization that has stood out above and beyond all the others:
Life is valuable – but it is also short.
This came home to me in two ways. First was the reaction of everyone to the collapsed buildings. In an impressive way that seems to be common in situations of disaster, everyone pulled together to do everything they could to help those in need. It was impressive to watch people jump in and help to save the lives of those trapped. Supplies poured in, helpers lined up for hours, and everyone’s attention focused on saving lives. Life is something that can be taken for granted – until it is threatened. Then it becomes incredibly valuable.
The second way was hearing about the people who were trapped, but who eventually died because nobody could reach them in time. There are few things that have made me reflect as deeply on the value and fragility of life as this thought: What do you do when you’re trapped and you know you might not make it out alive?
The thought, understandably, is a scary one for many. It was for me, and there is a limit to which one can reflect on it without feeling overwhelmed. We live in a relatively safe society where we can push death far to the margins of our thoughts, to be confronted only when disaster strikes, if at all. But living through an earthquake where people living near to you have suddenly and unexpectedly died forces one to reflect. On the one hand, it makes me grateful to still be alive, overwhelmed by how valuable and precious life is, and how much I want to hang on to it! On the other hand, it makes me wonder – am I ready to die?
This brings me back to the topic that I raised in my last post – what happens after death? This earthquake has made me once again profoundly aware of how much of a mystery that question is! We have no videos of life after death, no way to objectively study it or quantify it, and no reliable accounts of what happens after death. The accounts we do have vary widely and are highly suspect, to say the least. We are left to make the best decisions we can based on inferences and whatever circumstantial evidence we can find. Not exactly a comfortable place for many of us to be. And yet, I think it’s worthwhile to consider because eventually, we’re all going to face death, like it or not. So for what it’s worth, here are my thoughts on the matter.
As I see it, there are three major categories that our society holds to as options after death. These three are nihilism, reincarnation, and God (heaven or a similar afterlife). I think that each of these provides evidences for or against, as well as implications for our daily life that are important. But rather than just talk about them, I’d like to imagine them.
First Nihilism. Put yourself in the position of someone trapped in a collapsed building. Your cell phone has died. You can hear people, but you’re too tired and weak to respond. Your throat is parched, your stomach is grumbling. It’s been days – you think. Trapped in the darkness, it’s hard to tell. Nobody has come. Or better put, nobody has been able to get to you. You have reflected on your life, your family, your loved ones. Hope has faded, and you can feel yourself fading too. You close your eyes and slowly drift off and then… nothing. Not blackness. Not peace, not a light, not anything. You just disappear. Your body is there, but “you” are gone. And along with you, everything that was important to you. All that you’ve worked for and dreamed about – gone. Your family – gone. Your experiences that you’ve worked so hard to accumulate – gone. For all intents and purposes, it’s as if you never existed.
This view basically states that life has no meaning, purpose or value. It often finds itself paired with naturalism, which holds that this world arose through natural means only and is all there is . Nihilism has a number of things that make it interesting to people. First, it focuses exclusively on this world that we can see and touch, which for many people (especially in the western secular culture) is the sum total of our life. No need to worry about any of that spiritual stuff that can seem so elusive and uncertain. Second, at least in a way, it provides freedom from all of the requirements and expectations that religious/spiritual belief seems to put on us. For those wanting to control their own life and destiny, it seems ideal.
But from my perspective, it has a number of significant problems. First, it denies our desire to live. I have heard of atheists describing death as a time of peace and freedom from life’s troubles, but I think that’s kind of a fake way to describe it. It’s not peace – it’s nothing. You cease to exist. All of your experiences, all of your learning, all of your wisdom (if indeed you were wise!), is gone. Your longings, dreams, aspirations, love, family, friends – all gone. Which ultimately brings up the huge question: What’s the point of it all? This isn’t a new thought – many atheists will admit that the thought of not existing is uncomfortable or disappointing for them. And I have to wonder: If we are so attuned to life, if life is so incredibly valuable and the instinct to live is so strong, why would we choose to believe something that fights against that? Why do we care when loved ones die? Why do we try to save victims of an earthquake? Something inside us cries out for life, and implies that life is more than just what we can presently see. This seems to fit in the desire-fulfillment pattern we see elsewhere in life: We get hungry, and food exists to fulfill this desire. We grow thirsty, and water exists to satisfy this desire. We desire love, and there are people around us to meet that need. We long to live – does it not make sense that this longing shows that there is a reality that could fulfill this longing? This is an inference, not direct evidence (which we don’t have), but it is a strong one.
Second, the implications for our daily life are significant. If there’s nothing after this life, if we’re just a cosmic accident who is really no better or different than an animal, then we have no intrinsic value. We have no reason to live for anything other than what we can get in this world and to enjoy life as much as we can. Many have struggled in this world for this very reason – a lack of value and purpose. Others live completely focused on getting as much as they can. It might be nice if you’re in the “rich” western world, but not if you’re living in the slums in a two-thirds world country.
Third, if there’s no God, then there is no objective right and wrong, and we have no basis for justice. If society decides so, child sacrifice or eugenics is just as valid as any other belief. But whatever society decides, we have no reason to obey it and they have no right to punish us for disobeying, because it’s just a social construct. And yet western society is one that cries out for justice! We rail against the evils of this world, all the while claiming that right and wrong is purely subjective. It makes no sense, to be honest. It’s interesting to note that while our society claims to not believe in God, we’ve borrowed a lot of concepts that flow much more naturally from a theistic view of the world than a naturalistic view. Justice, love, the value of people, compassion – all of these are contrary to the naturalistic, survival-of-the-fittest view that goes naturally with nihilism and naturalism.
Finally, where is the hope and comfort in this belief? I’m not just referring to our own hope but also for those who have experienced loss. Can you imagine telling a parent who has just lost a child in the earthquake that their child has ceased to exist and they’ll never see them again? Or that their remains will help fertilize life for others on the planet? Or that the injustice that the poor and oppressed face is nothing more than bad luck, and that they will never experience anything better, and their oppressors may never face justice? Talk about cold (or no) comfort!
All told, I can’t fathom why anyone believes that this view is viable. It doesn’t conform to our inner feelings, it doesn’t offer us hope or comfort, and it doesn’t agree with all the things that we claim are valuable in our society. If you hold to this view, I would love to hear your comments on how it improves humanity and our experience, because I can’t see it at all. It might help justify an individual who wants to live their life without any restrictions or guidance, but I don’t see it helping society as a whole.
How about reincarnation? Let’s jump back into our trapped scenario. Except this time, as you fade out, you suddenly awake again! Now you’re a bird, tapping your way out of an egg (who knows how much time has passed?). Finally you break free! You get your first meal – regurgitated worms! Everyone’s favourite! And finally, after weeks of feeding and growing, you get thrust out of the nest and take your first clumsy flight. Soon, you’re soaring over canyons and mountains (unless, of course, your first flight was unsuccessful and you got eaten or died right away). What exhilaration!! (The flying, not the getting eaten/dying).
Except… you’re a bird. You don’t really feel exhilaration. In fact, you don’t feel much of anything. Or reflect on how amazing it is to be a bird. Or have any deep thoughts at all. You eat. And sleep. Maybe, depending what kind of bird you are and where you live, you poop on people. Not that you get any joy out of that. You just sort of live. Then you die again. Maybe next time you’ll come back as another person – who doesn’t remember any of their previous life. Maybe all the good karma you earned in this life will be completely wasted by that next jerk of a person that you are, who doesn’t realize that they are earning bad karma and shoving you back to worm status (again, not that you’ll be aware that you’re a worm). Maybe – horror of horrors! – you’ll be a Christian or an atheist who doesn’t even believe in reincarnation and teaches others that it’s ridiculous! Would that be a step forward? Or backward? Doesn’t matter – you’ll neither know nor care, because you won’t know who you started as anyway. You, as a person, don’t actually exist anymore. You have disappeared.
There are variations on this idea of reincarnation, especially as regards the end purpose. Some hold that the goal is to eventually achieve oneness with an impersonal life force and be enveloped in it. Others hold that the end result is our annihilation – that we eventually escape from this world and cycle of rebirths. I’m sure others hold that it is a repeating thing, so that we keep reincarnating ad infinitum. Life just keeps going.
I can understand some of the appeal of this way of thinking. To imagine that after this life we get to live another one is vastly better than just disappearing altogether. It also provides at least some motivation to lead a good life, or at least it is open to be used that way. If I live a good life, then I’ll reincarnate as something (someone?) better and be closer to freedom/perfection/escape or whatever goal we’re pursuing. And let’s be honest, who hasn’t wanted to be an eagle flying over the Grand Canyon, or a dolphin, or some sort of other animal or person?
But again, I struggle with this view for a variety of reasons. First, I just can’t find any objective support for it. Yes, there are a few people who claim to have been a person in a previous life, but really, how credible is that? There are tons of other explanations for these “memories” – from making them up, to psychological disorders, to spiritual forces. But the lack of empirical evidence could apply to any of these post-death ideas, so that’s not particularly notable.
Second, I, as an individual, still end up disappearing. As I sit here writing, I have absolutely no memory (providing reincarnation is actually true) of what I was before. Whatever person, or animal, or thing that I used to be has disappeared. Which means that all that I am right now will also disappear. I will still cease to exist, and everything and everyone that I love will mean nothing to me in my next life. Now, some might argue that our lives are all meaningful in the “in-between” life, but, aside from not even knowing if that exists, that is small comfort. Can you imagine the type of identity complex we would have after being multiple different people in multiple different times? But more seriously, the goal of reincarnation is either to become part of the impersonal life force (in which case I cease to exist as an individual) or to escape the cycle of life entirely (in which case I cease to exist as an individual), or, in some more modern variations, to just keep being reborn (in which case all my previous existences don’t matter, and this one doesn’t either). In any case, the person that I am now doesn’t matter, or won’t matter after I die.
Thirdly, like nihilism, it has negative implications for our life at present. If my goal is to obtain a better reincarnation, then my life becomes inherently selfish. Sure, I might do good things, but only because they benefit me in the long run. And who decides what is a good thing? We see right now that we are scorning the ideas and customs of previous generations, even though they (in many cases) thought that they were improving the world. Surely in future years people will look back at us and mock many of our ideas about what was right and wrong.
But I think those seeking a better reincarnation is the minority of cases. The reality is that most people, believing they will be reincarnated, can live however they want because they know what I just explained – whatever reincarnation they obtain, they won’t remember this life anyway, and so it’s essentially somebody else who is paying for whatever negative reincarnation they’ve earned. I’m free to do whatever I want! And there are other variations. Look at the society that developed in India with the caste system – a society based primarily on this idea of karma and reincarnation. As I understand it (its been a while since I’ve studied it in depth), the reincarnation system in India led to a belief that those who were suffering or in lower castes were simply experiencing the results of their previous lives. In their belief, to help someone was to interfere with the punishment that they were experiencing and with their ability to earn a better reincarnation in their next life! This is why Mother Theresa stood out so much when she actually tried to help people. A belief in reincarnation ends up being self-focused, releasing us from accountability for our actions. From another angle, I have actually had people tell me that people who commit evil acts (from abuse to murder) are simply acting the way the had to act because of their previous lives, and that they were neither to blame, nor wrong in their actions. That’s kind of scary to me.
So again, I struggle to believe that reincarnation is a net positive for me as an individual (I cease to exist) or for our society (it is selfish, except for those who want to earn a better reincarnation, who still have purely selfish motives). The possibility of being something or someone else sounds cool, but with nothing to back it up, it’s just wishful thinking.
So what about a belief in God? Again, let’s go back to our scenario. You are trapped. You have had no food or water for days. You slowly fade away and awake to find yourself in the presence of the most amazing, incomprehensible, glorious being you’ve ever seen! What is your reaction?
I think your reaction varies a lot depending on your life and how you’ve lived it. There will be a lot of people who will be surprised, and mainly in a negative way. Perhaps angry or belligerent, even. On the other hand, there will be many who breathe a deep sigh of relief and collapse into the arms (if we can use that term) of this divine being that they have long desired to know. I know that the concept of God (especially and specifically in the Christian sense, which is the most common in both my Latin American and Canadian contexts) is ridiculous or disturbing to many people. Yet it is the option that I believe best explains both our longings and our reality as living beings, as well as being the best guide for our daily lives.
For me, the foundation that drives my belief in God is scientific. It is now pretty much universally accepted that the universe had a beginning. I cannot bring myself to believe that the universe sprang into existence from nothing, and all the arguments trying to proclaim that that is what actually happened (including those of the renowned Stephen Hawking) seem to fall desperately short of being believable or making any sense. Nothing simply cannot produce everything. On the other side of the equation, Buddhists (the strongest example of the reincarnation religions) view the origins of the universe as meaningless, and posit that the universe itself is part of the cyclical nature of life – one universe ends and another begins. In their view, this question has no relevance. However, this is pure philosophical speculation. The fact is, we know is that this universe had a beginning. A beginning implies that something or someone began it. Add to this beginning the incredibly complex realities of life on earth (design, which implies a designer), as well as the existence of humans as rational, reflective beings, and I think that there is solid reason to believe that the notion of God is not only credible, but a very real possibility that has dramatic relevance to our lives and how we live.
If, then, we face a very real possibility of standing face to face with God after our death, I think it makes ample sense to try to understand who this God is that we would be facing. I have already tipped my hand by saying that I would focus on the Christian God, but I think we don’t necessarily have to dip deeply into Christian theology to come to some conclusions about who this God might be. To try to fully explain God would be huge and far beyond the scope of this post. Instead, I want to focus on three aspects of God that I think are fairly obvious even outside of Christian theology. These are his greatness, his smallness, and his personality.
Although listed last, I want to focus on the idea of God as a person, or his personality, because I believe that it brings life to the other ideas.
The very idea of God implicitly carries with it the idea of personality. There may be many debates about the character of God, whether he is distant or close, kind or cruel, etc. But it is particularly difficult to divorce “God” from the concept of personality. And I think that this has been fairly obvious throughout time. While various cultures have developed concepts of an impersonal life force (such as buddhism), they would not consider this force to be “God”. It is impersonal. God (or, in many cultures, gods) always contain the concept of a personality. I think we can see the reason for this supported from a few different angles.
I previously mentioned the concepts of creation and the design of the universe. Both of these acts – creation and design – are associated with the mind, planning, creativity. These are acts of people or personalities, not impersonal forces. Similarly, the presence of a rational, reasoning race of people within this creation strongly implies the presence of a rational, reasoning God. Although it is all the rage at present to point out the many similarities between primates and humans, we must recognize that the differences between us and them are far more striking than the similarities. Indeed, while one might be able to make an argument stating that biologically we have developed from apes (an argument for another time), there is a huge gap in terms of reasoning, self-awareness, and morality. While much of the present scientific community tries to argue that these traits developed slowly and naturally, most of the rest of the world has viewed these as transcendent gifts, whether from a God or the gods. Humans are seen as similar to animals, yes, but still completely different. It is true that our skills and knowledge of the world have developed over time, but I am hard-pressed to believe that human nature has changed much at all. As I understand it, the ancient written records that we have show humanity then as being similar to humanity today. And the extrapolations from pre-written records (“early man”) often seem to suffer from an assumption that a lack of technology indicates a lack of intelligence, an assumption that can be logically shown false on many levels. Be that as it may, I think it far more logical to believe that our intelligence, morals, and self-awareness come from another source, one that shares all of these characteristics, but in a much fuller, more perfect form. To use biblical language, that we are created “in his image”, that our own personhood comes from the top down, not from the bottom up.
Now, some may argue that we are falling into the age-old pattern of creating God in our own image – that as humanity has evolved we have created gods that look like us, and there is no reality behind them. Certainly, looking at history, this is one possible conclusion. Many of the ancient gods (Greek, Roman, others) look very much like glorified humans, and often just as depraved. And although the Christian God has pushed many of these traits to a higher level and perfected them in their concept of God (all the good concepts, anyway), there is no denying that the God revealed in the Bible is very “human” like – He is a person in the best sense. He is just, loving, wrathful, powerful, caring, merciful, etc. It would be very difficult to show one way or another whether we have made God in our image, or whether he has made us in his. Except… except for what I mentioned at the beginning – that the earth began. We cannot have created God if he is the one who began everything. Given this, it is far more likely that we, as creatures superior to the rest of the animal kingdom, were created in his image, and that throughout time, however imperfectly, we have sensed and tried to explain who this
Being is by reference to gods or a God who is above and beyond us.
I feel that one other explanation is necessary, and that is why, if God exists, he is so hidden from us. In my mind, the core of the answer is actually quite simple, and it centres around his personhood. There are really only three possibilities for how God relates to us. The first is that God would completely hide himself. But the only way that he could do that is to make us completely blind to the possibility that he exists, and to do that, he would have to eliminate much (or all) of our ability to think rationally – a significant part of what makes us in his image. If he doesn’t, there will always be people asking the questions of where everything came from, and why we are different than the animals, and why we hate injustice so much, and why love is so important, and so on. The fact that we ask those questions shows that we are aware of something beyond us, and implies that God might be found. But once he takes away our ability to reason, we would essentially be back to the level of animals, unable to relate to him as anything but an obedient pet. On the other side, God could reveal himself completely. But again, this destroys our freedom and choices. We would be either terrified of making a wrong choice (because we know the consequences and would be completely unable to hide) or forced to do what God wanted. Either way, the concept of love or a relationship is completely obliviated. If God is a “person” or a personality, then it implies that he values relationships, and relationship is not possible when it is completely controlled by one party. And so we are left with our present reality – the ability to conclude that God exists, the possibility of having a relationship with him, but also the possibility to reject and ignore that. While we might not totally love that answer, it seems to be the only way to allow both genuine freedom and love to flourish.
If, then, we accept that God exists and that he is a “person”, then we turn to the second aspect of God that I believe is very obvious – His bigness. The concept of God, as understood by the Christian and various other cultures or religions includes the idea of God as the creator of the universe. It can be very easy to affirm that concept without really thinking about what it means. It means that God is big. Not just “He can move a mountain” big, but “form an entire universe plus make all the laws that govern it and keep it in existence at every moment” kind of big. Not just “be in all places at once” big, but “be at every moment in history throughout the course of at least thousands if not billions of years” big. Even in our most contemplative moments, we cannot grasp the bigness of God. To accept this – which is the only conclusion possible if we accept the concept of God – brings to the forefront two realities that we try to ignore.
The first is worship. We simply cannot compare to God. In this sense, we are dramatically behind virtually every other society that has ever existed. In our mad rush to pat ourselves on the back for our tremendous technological improvements, we have failed to recognize that at best we are making poor copies of what God long ago made good. Human DNA makes a supercomputer look like an Etch-a-Sketch. The flight ability of a butterfly or bird puts our best planes to shame. Simple motions like bending an elbow or going for a walk make our robotics look incredibly clumsy. And while it’s true that some of our innovations look like improvements on nature, a close look shows the reality to be false. For example, it’s true that a bird has never made it to mach 2, but it’s also true that a plane has never reproduced naturally. For free. And survived on an (also free) diet of worms and bugs. Nor does a jet look that fast when compared to other “natural” items, such as comets (between 10-70 km/s, compared to mach 2, which is approximately 0.7 km/s). Not to mention that even our best accomplishments begin with the material we have received, not the creation of the material itself. I dare say that if we believe that God exists, worship – or at least some form of reverence or awe for his power – is the only adequate response.
The second reality is that God is in charge. We have built an entire society based on the concept of independence and the ability to make it on our own, without recognizing how little we can actually control. None of us chose the time, family or location of our birth. None of us knows the moment of our death. Most of us struggle regularly with our temper, how much we eat, our sexual desires and our emotions. We can choose our career, but not whether we get laid off. We can “control” our health, yet fail miserably to avoid even a common cold. We can choose to have a family, but we have little control over our reproductive system, and limited control over our kids once they are born. We strive for control, and yet the very arena where we should see the most control – “self-control” – eludes us more often than we care to admit. And yet we set ourselves up as these little kingdoms, confident in our ability to control our lives and our surroundings, without recognizing that our very lives are gifts from a much higher source. I do not mean to say that God controls us, as a puppet-master controls his puppets, but rather that all that we are is not from us. All that we have, we have received. We are stewards rather than owners, responsible to the one who made us. If we believe in God, it is inevitable that he is in charge, not us.
So far, the picture we have of God is of a powerful being, possibly even a tyrant. So we turn from the bigness of God to his smallness. By this, I don’t mean to contradict myself by arguing that God is not big. What I mean is that just as looking at the expanse of the sky reveals God’s greatness, so looking at a blade of grass, a ladybug, or our very DNA reveals that God is a God who cares about the details, about the small stuff. While looking at the big stuff shows us God’s power and greatness and the characteristics that are associated with that side of him, so looking at the small stuff reveals his care, his compassion, his love. When we look at the whole of nature and the world around us, we are humbled by his greatness. When we pause and examine the minute details of this world, we are overwhelmed by a sense of care that would arrange something so intricate and beautiful. Sadly, this aspect of God has been less often inferred than God’s greatness. One reason, at least in the present, is that we have a skewed notion of what God’s love should look like. In particular, we tend to think that he should take care of all of our problems or eliminate all the evil in the world. We see the bad around us and blame him, using it as an excuse to deny that he exists, instead of taking the blame ourselves and living in the freedom and responsibility he’s given us. We beat each other up, then blame God for not stopping us. We ignore his provision of life, his daily sustenance, the ability to enjoy this world, and the guidance he’s willing to give us, then claim he doesn’t care because our life isn’t going perfectly. His smallness shows that he cares, down to the most minute detail, even if he doesn’t interfere the way we sometimes want him to.
When we put these three concepts together, we find a an all-powerful God who created and sustains the universe, yet who is personally involved with and cares about the world – and us. In his smallness, we discover a God who loves us and every detail of our life and who desires a relationship with us. In his greatness, we are reminded that his love does not negate his role as King. Just as there are laws that govern the natural world, so God has expectations (morals) that are intended to guide our lives. As such, we are called to love others, to avoid some things and to do others, not so that we might please an angry God, but so that our world and our lives as individuals are fulfilling and meaningful. I believe that this God we can infer from the world around us is best and most completely revealed in the Bible and the person of Jesus, and that this belief strikes the balance of giving us hope for the future, while still giving us guidance (and often correction) for the present. And most significantly for this discussion, he is revealed as the creator and sustainer of life who offers that life to us.
And so, with the options of nihilism, reincarnation and God before us, I choose to believe in God. To me, God provides a better answer for our existence, our desire for life, and stronger implications for how to live than either of the other two options. If I am trapped in a building facing death, I will still, with everything in me, long to live and fight to live. There is an uncertainty about what comes next that will never be fully answered unless God personally reveals himself to me at some point. But the circumstantial evidence around me leads me to believe that this life is not all there is, and that God does indeed exist.
Which brings me back to the reality revealed through the earthquake – the value and shortness of life. It is a problem that we must all face, but it is a problem with a solution (and here my Christianity shows clearly). We long for life and eternity, and we find that in Christ. We fear death, yet Christ has conquered death. It was not his miracles and his teaching that changed the world, as impressive as they were. It was his resurrection. Don’t get me wrong! I still don’t want to die. The thought of another earthquake can still get my heart racing. But at the end of the day, I believe my life – now and for eternity – is held firmly in the hands of God, and that no matter what happens, I will be okay.