The lines blur between the story of my life and the words upon a page. I referenced Kafka of a morning’s vignette, then found him later with new acquaintances. Is it indeed all random and meaningless, or are there threads of story weaving through our lives?
Sighting the existence of evil shouldn’t urge us headlong into complicity, snarling and snipping the threads of the tale. Senseless is not meaningless. Senseless is our inability to sense the greater theme, though we extend ourselves to the fullest capacities of reason. But there is more than one organ of awareness with which to perceive life.
I realized the other day that at the worst moments of my life, a dear friend was going through some of the best of his. To know that this contrast existed, and that we later met to find one another both under the Lord’s redemption, changed my retrospective. Not just any good was lighting a corner of the earth; not just any corner. A corner which has become ours, a good which is shared between us in fellowship. These two stories and their contrasts are now one in their harmonies.
The peace of this thought doesn’t require assigned meaning; only that there is meaning. There is a pace and rhythm to events which we cannot comprehend, though we defeat the whole universe through the regulation and refinement of reason. I see the contrast and its beauty, the good all the clearer for the senseless evil. Good being self-existent, it has no need for that duality; but we are the only creatures who see meaninglessness. In our darkness, we understand infinity by finity; sinlessness by sin. We see meaninglessness because we are wistful in our rationality, a deeply meaningful emotion — wistful for freedom.
Shall I then play the fool by tearing pages from the book? These dire and desperate things — the gentle pacing of the plot, the senseless wretchedness — they are made for the awareness of the heart. Sense will be made of it later. To say there is no God, no story, no hint of theme or metaphor to life, just because evil is found — that would be to attempt a book-burning.
Rather, let us read the story, and see just where it leads.