Alright. This is it. Where to begin?
I’ve had many conversations over the past few months with my insightful and (thankfully) long-suffering friends surrounding the subject of higher meaning in a materialistic culture, conversations that have more broadly inspired the mission of my writing. Often, these conversations last for hours at a time, inviting us to wander down various rabbit holes and side paths that lead to new insights, old truths, and occasional dead ends. Part of me worries that you, my reader, may feel as though you had been dropped into the middle of one of those meandering rivers of thought. I myself sometimes have trouble reorienting back to the main path of discussion, as the ideas tangle themselves together and so become almost impossible to retrace to their origin. As such, I find it infeasible to find “the beginning” of the road to Paravel. Rather, I would like to describe where we are, where I am, presently, which may help us get on the road to that beautiful kingdom if we are not already.
Simply and broadly, the world and time in which we live (i.e. Western culture in the year 2024) is suffering the deathly convulsions of a poison; indeed, one that it drank to the last drop. The poison is a mixture of (at least) two lies which have entrenched themselves as assumptions in our everyday lives. First, we live as though matter is the only thing that really exists, and that all things, including mental states and consciousness, are results of physical interactions of physical things. This is a philosophy known as materialism. Second, we live as though the highest expression of a free individual includes no responsibilities to family, friends, country, morality or even God. The symptoms of the poison are already manifest, especially among people my age. We’re hopeless, lonely, addicted to phones, drugs, and porn. Some of us have simply stopped liking people, as a whole.
I, for one, want out of this cycle. I think a journey towards a better relationship with God and people, an understanding that we are both physical and spiritual creatures, a search for eternal goodness will help us escape.
Like Timothy of the scriptures, I came to my faith at a young age, raised by two parents devoted to Christ. My faith became my own as I drew in the power of scripture, and I became convinced that the incarnation of God in Jesus, Jesus' teachings, miracles, crucifixion, and resurrection were historical events. If I didn't believe they were, I wouldn't believe at all.
Funny enough, becoming a Christian doesn’t make your problems go away. In many ways, it may exacerbate them. You become keenly aware of just how evil and broken the world is, how corrupt and inadequate you are. If you find yourself in a cycle of addiction, the devastation is doubly painful, as you realize the insufficiency of your own efforts to escape. There are comforts and promises that provide a life preserver in times of trouble (some of which I may write about at a later date) but sometimes it is difficult to see them through the fog of self-pity and hatred.
My experience of Christ has been one marked with the immeasurable and sometimes unexplainable joy of being united to God and growing into a more complete image of his love, mixed with intense periods of the sad realization of my own brokenness, the brokenness of humanity. Bittersweet longing for something better with an underlying peace, a confidence that things will get better. Can I partake in that process of redemption? Can I be salt, enhancing the savor of this world? Can I be light, brightening the path to the world to come?
A few months ago, I went through a period of uncommon awareness. I put down my phone, took off my headphones, and realized I was surrounded by HUMAN BEINGS, each with their own soul, desires, story in which they are the main character. I became aware of the true brilliancy of it all. Each person a PORTAIT OF GOD covered in what C.S. Lewis called “little mark[s] on the soul.” A friend described this sensation as “sondering.” I was so startled by the beauty of it all that it took me over a week to shut up about it. One part of the experience remained. If we are surrounded by such beauty at all times, why don’t we engage in it? Why is it so hard to break into that sense of wonder?
My goal in these writings is not to complain about the sad state of our being. It is not to prescribe being more neighborly, moral, compassionate, or any other methodology of making yourself a better person. I think there are plenty of people writing about these things who are much more qualified than I. I want to take a step back, to examine our own relationship to God and the people around us. What are these aethereal strings that bind us to one another? What would it look like for us to enter a more present awareness of those connections?
So that’s the guiding principle and my first step out of the valley. Sorry for this first one being so late. I should have a quicker turnaround time for the next essay.
Until then, be salt and light.
Nathan
If you’re the Nathan Daly I met in London, I wanted to say it’s a pleasant coincidence to stumble across your work, and thanks for your moving reflection.
“You have been given questions to which you cannot be given answers. You will have to live them out - perhaps a little at a time.'
And how long is that going to take?'
I don't know. As long as you live, perhaps.'
That could be a long time.'
I will tell you a further mystery,' he said. 'It may take longer.”
-Wendell Berry (from "Jayber Crow")