The futility of life is a fact everyone has to address. Not all people think that life is futile. Some think that being born to die does not constitute futility. For me, this is hard to fathom. If death means the cessation of life, then being born only to cease to exist is futile. There is no point in creating something just to destroy it.
Say, for instance, you went to the trouble of
spending five years of your life to build a house. You spent time thinking
about what you were going to build. You went to the trouble of drawing what
your house would look like. You even went to the trouble of mapping out the
processes involved. Finally, you had the plans and the details of the materials
required, and where they could be obtained.
You had to dig out the holes for the foundation
posts. You intended to pour concrete into the holes for the foundations. You
needed the iron rods and bars to place in the foundations. However, you
discovered that this was going to require more effort than expected, so you
decided to purchase pre-made concrete posts with wire extending from them so
you could tie the floor bearers down to the posts. The holes for the
foundations were dug, the posts positioned in place, and the earth compacted
around them. The bearers were stretched out on top of the foundation posts. The
wire was wrapped around the posts and fixed securely into the bearers. Floor
joists were laid across the rows of supporting bearers stretched across the
foundation posts. The wood for the floor joists was not as thick as the
bearers. Instead of four inches by four inches, the joists were four by one
inch thick. You decided against using particle board for the floor and chose
tongue-and-groove, three-by-one-half-inch floorboards. You ensured the flooring
was securely jammed together before you began to nail in the floorboards.
Once the flooring was completed, you built
much of the frame on the ground. Each portion of the frame consisted of studs,
noggins, sole (floor) plates, top (ceiling) plates, and braces. The vertical
studs were ten feet long and had a diagonal brace running through them,
attaching to both the sole plate and the top plate. Every four studs had a
brace running diagonally from the sole plate to the top plate. You realized
that it was easier to put the noggins in later to ensure the width of the gap
between the studs remained constant once the frame was completed. The doorjambs
and lintels were added once the wall frames were erect. You then placed the
ceiling joists on top of the wall plates. Next, you set your roof at the
desired pitch with jack rafters, ridging, and hips, before putting in the
rafters, pearling, struts, strutting beams, hanging beams, collar ties (rafter
joists), and gable ends. Once these were in place and secured, you installed
the fascia around the bottom of the rafters and the bargeboard on the gable
with beading. Additional noggins and braces were placed in the walls. Rafter
joists were fixed across the wall plates. Instead of butt joints and using gang
nails, you preferred to make notches into the plates for the studs and in the
studs for the noggins. Planing the studs to create the notches took more time,
but you wanted to build a house that was sturdy and capable of standing for
centuries. Wherever possible, you used mortise and tenon joints or half-lap
joints instead of butt joints and gang nails, which is the modern method of
building.
You purchased the most expensive slates you
could find for the roof. Instead of plasterboard, you used lath and plaster for
both the walls and the ceiling. You nailed thin strips of one-inch-wide wooden
battens with narrow gaps between them for the plaster to grip. This took longer
than using plasterboard, but you wanted to make a house that could stand the
test of time. The outside was clad with treated wood and painted. You invited
your friends around to see the house. They all admired it. You invited them a
second time. They came thinking you were going to have a moving-in party.
Instead, much to their dismay, you lit a bonfire next to the house. You threw
gasoline on the house beside the bonfire. Your friends were aghast with horror
as the house went up in flames. They exclaimed that you were mad. They thought
you had gone insane. You had gone to the trouble of building a house that would
last a few hundred years, and then you simply set it alight. What a waste of
effort—absolutely pointless—futile!
Could you imagine going to the effort of
saving money for ten years, then taking another five years to build a house
that people would admire, only to set it alight so they could watch it go up in
flames?
Jesus said:
“For which of you, desiring to build a tower,
doesn’t first sit down and count the cost, to see if he has enough to complete
it? Or perhaps, when he has laid a foundation and is not able to finish,
everyone who sees begins to mock him, saying, ‘This man began to build and
wasn’t able to finish.’” (Luke 14:28–30)
“Everyone therefore who hears these words of mine and does them, I will liken him to a wise man who built his house on a rock. The rain came down, the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house; and it didn’t fall, for it was founded on the rock. Everyone who hears these words of mine and doesn’t do them will be like a foolish man who built his house on the sand. The rain came down, the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house; and it fell—and great was its fall.” (Matthew 7:24–27)
Instead of a tower, we could speak of a house. When a person starts
something and is unable to finish it, people laugh at that person because his
actions have become futile. Likewise, when a person builds on a foundation that
cannot withstand the elements, people would laugh too. These are futile efforts
because they are brought to nothing. Most people would agree that saving for
ten years and then building a house that could last a couple of hundred years,
only to burn it down as soon as it is built, is an act of futility.
This is essentially the point about futility.
People can do what appear to be meaningful things, but they are futile in the
end. We can purposefully express our thoughts about futility in a demonstrative
way, or we can live in ignorance and, believing ourselves to be wise, merely
live a life of futility.
When we speak to others about futility, most
will admit that for a person to save money, build a house capable of lasting
for centuries, and then turn it into ashes is absurd. Many homeless people
could have used the house. If the owner wanted to keep the land, the house
could have been sold or relocated. What would infuriate many is the absolute
waste of good resources—not to mention the environmental damage caused by the
fire. Yet the story reflects what many people actually do with their lives.
People spend their lives striving to achieve
many different things. Tycoons such as Rupert Murdoch, who built the mega-media
giant News Limited, seek to create empires that span the globe. Most people,
though, think more modestly—building reserves for retirement. When young, most
couples seek to establish a family and enjoy the company of their children and
grandchildren. Rupert Murdoch went from owning a city newspaper with a
circulation of approximately 50,000 to overseeing a global news juggernaut.
Unlike Murdoch, most people do not see all of their desires realized. Yet many
will say their lives have meaning because they find significance in what they
do.
Finding significance in an otherwise futile
existence is what some forms of nihilism
attempt to address. What is known as existential
nihilism and ethical nihilism
are efforts to find significance in a worldview that denies eternal meaning. In
essence, these are attempts to find meaning in futility—without God.
Nihilism is often attributed to Friedrich
Nietzsche, who rejected Christianity and spent much of his life in despair.
However, nihilism actually dates back to around 450 BC and is linked to the
Greek philosopher Gorgias, whose work On
Non-Existence developed three sequential arguments: (1) nothing exists;
(2) even if something exists, it is unknowable; and (3) even if it is knowable,
it cannot be communicated. His conclusions closely mirror Buddhist notions that
existence is suffering and that escape is only found through the negation of
being.
One definition of nihilism is the belief that
all values are baseless and that nothing can be known or communicated. It is
often associated with extreme pessimism and radical skepticism that condemns
all existence. A true nihilist believes in nothing, has no loyalties, and no
purpose—except perhaps an impulse to destroy.
Nihilism has gained popularity among atheists.
All nihilists are atheists, but not all atheists are nihilists. Some atheists
believe that evolution has a purpose. True nihilists, however, see no purpose
in existence. Yet, like many human inventions, nihilism now comes in multiple
forms:
·
Epistemological
nihilism denies the possibility of knowledge or truth and is linked to
extreme skepticism.
·
Political
nihilism advocates for the destruction of all existing political,
social, and religious structures before any improvement can occur.
·
Ethical
(or moral) nihilism rejects the idea of absolute moral values. Good
and evil are considered vague, and any related values are merely social or
emotional constructs.
·
Existential
nihilism, perhaps the most recognized form, asserts that life has no
intrinsic meaning or value.
Sadly, some who say they are seeking truth
become entangled in nihilism. You would think they’d recognize that nihilism
offers no point or hope—for there is no significance in being born just to die.
When people invoke Nietzsche or nihilist ideologies, or any philosophy or
religion that suggests we come from nothing and return to nothing, they must
answer one unavoidable question: What is the point of developing such a
worldview? Some might say, "To justify one’s current existence." But
what an absurd notion.
The mere fact that people develop worldviews
at all is evidence of a deep-seated need for meaning. Even those who adopt the
worldviews of others show that they crave significance. Many reject nihilism
and claim we pass through cycles of rebirth—from nothing back to nothing, or
from a source back to the source. But this too is a form of nihilism with no
enduring worth. The same applies to those who say they are on their fourteenth
incarnation, reincarnation, or transmigration—journeying from non-being back to
non-being—claiming the purpose of this present life is to find the quickest
escape from suffering. This is usually framed as achieving nirvana and transcending material existence by entering a
state of perfect peace devoid of pain. Yet, you will never meet someone who has
demonstrably attained nirvana. To do so would mean ceasing to suffer
forever—and ceasing to exist.
One must ask how adherents of Buddhism,
nihilism, or atheism can be so certain their belief systems are superior to a
worldview that offers the assurance of rebirth and transformation in the here
and now. Most Westerners who reject Christianity were born into cultures shaped
by it but lack true understanding of its message. If they did, they would
realize there is significance in being
born—if we seek out the truth about what it means to be “born only to die.”
Indeed, futility is an insult to intelligence.
The earlier story of building a house just to burn it down illustrates the
obvious absurdity of a life without purpose.
Rather than confront the truth or acknowledge
the reality of futility, many people attempt to justify their existence by
arguing that their lives hold meaning in one form or another. At the very
least, they demonstrate the human capacity for reason—even if the reasoning is flawed.
The very fact that we have the capacity to reason but not the ability to
overcome death is what truly needs to be addressed.
When we consider ourselves, we must ask: Are
we truly reasoning beings who believe that being born only to die is not futile? Amazingly, many do.
Reading the book of Ecclesiastes is worthwhile, for it offers a powerful meditation on futility. Though framed in the context of ancient Israel’s culture, its message is timeless. Reading it prompts reflection on the futility of our own lives. Its drumbeat is steady but honest. No one asks to be born. No one wants to die—unless the pain of this present existence becomes unbearable.
However, what each of us needs to address within the framework of our
existence on planet Earth is this: How is it
that we can conceive of eternity? Surely, there must be a reason for our
ability to think about eternity. The idea that we could live forever—never
die—makes sense if we were created with the intention of possessing everlasting
life. But it does not make sense if we are
merely born to die.
We could say that it is illogical to believe
there is significance in being born only to die. We could also say that it is
just as illogical to use logic to argue that existence is more than
that—especially since, once we are dead, we cannot verify it to those still
living on this planet.
The claim that “nothing can be known” is often
raised. By nothing, we assume what is
meant is certainty of knowledge. Yet
finding “nothing” appears impossible—no one has ever produced “nothing.”
Claiming a handful of air is nothing only holds water until someone points out
that what seems like nothing actually consists of oxygen and other gaseous
elements.
What may seem logical often does—until it is
undermined by superior knowledge. There is irrationality in the logic we may
use to say, “We were created because we know how to create things.” This leads
us to conclude we must have been
created. But we cannot identify our Creator in the same way we identify other
finite objects. Logically, if we were created, there must be a Creator—and that
One must be known. If not, how can we know we were created and are not simply
the result of circumstance or chance?
Of course, once we accept the idea that the
first two humans were created, the troubling question becomes: Who created the Creator? And who created that Creator? It’s a question that can go on
ad nauseam.
Many reply, “Nobody created the
Creator—everything evolved.” But this response raises other problems. How did
creatures requiring eyes, lungs, and hearts develop them? The complexity of
these organs functioning together could not have arisen by accident, whether
over one hundred, a thousand, a million, or even a billion years.
Evolutionists have long struggled with the
age-old question: Which came first—the
chicken or the egg? If they had solved it, nobody would still be raising
it in arguments about the existence of a Creator. If the egg came first, who
created the egg? If the chicken came first, who created the chicken? People
often reveal their ignorance by arrogantly choosing one or the other.
The truth is: the rooster had to come first—or there could be no fertilized
egg, and no reason for creating the chicken to lay that egg. This still doesn’t
answer the question about the Creator. But it does suggest that a Creator is necessary for the Creation to exist. The
complexities of creation are manifold. Anyone who thinks a human, ape, or other
creature simply evolved from nothing has not thought clearly about the
intricate organs required for a body to function. Some massive leaps must have
occurred to go from simple organelles to complex organisms.
Consider the circulatory system. It cannot
function without arteries, veins, lungs, and the heart. The lungs and heart are
intricate organs in themselves, but they also must connect to perform the task of oxygenating the body and
removing carbon dioxide or other gases. The alveoli—an incredible multitude of tiny sacs and
ducts—form the major part of the lungs. Without them, there is no breathing.
The alveoli did not come about by random chance and replicate like a polymerase
chain reaction (PCR). The evidence points to the human body being designed.
Arguments about bodily malfunction and design
flaws have nothing to do with the original creation. There are explanations for
why humans are born to die. Like other biological creatures and plants, we go
through the cycle of birth, growth, maturity, reproduction, and death.
Unfortunately for those who claim everything is evolving, many phenomena are
difficult to reconcile with that idea. Creatures that actually change their physical characteristics during
different life stages—such as frogs, butterflies, and moths—do not reflect
gradual evolution. Instead, they demonstrate restricted forms of microevolution.
In particular, the caterpillar–chrysalis–butterfly–egg cycle speaks more of a
Creator than of chance.
Logic based on a faulty premise may appear sound, even though it is wrong. This
is often found in apologetics, where people defend their belief systems. Any
scientist who begins with the premise “No Creator” will not see truth as
something to be sought. Fudging figures, creating illusions with manipulated
data, is just as delusional as those who believe a talisman, figurine, or
statue can bring rain or destroy an enemy.
Apologetics is the discipline of constructing
arguments to defend one’s convictions. However, apologetics rarely win people
over. Arguments tend to reinforce the views of those making them. If someone
doesn’t see the flaws in their argument, nothing will change.
Doubt
is what causes a person to change their views. When we doubt, we usually seek
answers to resolve those doubts. Much depends on our motivation—which, in turn,
depends on how much pain our doubt causes us. If we are comfortable with our
present condition, we may ignore what others show us, because it doesn’t
immediately impact us. But pain often causes us to reconsider our beliefs.
For example, if someone doubts God’s
existence, they often seek comfort from others who share that doubt. Sadly,
organized religion or certain individuals who claim to represent God are
frequently the cause of those
doubts—which then transfer to doubts about God Himself.
Unless a person admits that being born only to die is a futile
existence, they are unlikely to reflect on injustice, love, wisdom, morality—or
their own subjectivity—in relation to the One Who Exists, besides Whom there is
no other.
For those drawn to nihilism, there must be
reasons. Often, they believe nihilism offers the best path to improve life for
others. While acknowledging that they will die and never asked to be born, some
think that once the current social structures are dismantled, a utopia can be
introduced—one without racism, homophobia, or sexism, where all have access to
the fountain of youth.
Some nihilists think themselves quite clever
and may present simple arguments from empiricism (truth is determined by
experiment) or rationalism (truth is determined by thought alone).
Here’s a parable of four views trying to
convince a blind man of their “truth”:
·
Empiricist:
“Can’t you see the truth?”
o Blind Person: “No, I’m blind.”
·
Rationalist:
“I think, therefore I am.”
o Blind Person: “You used speech to make
that claim—sight or hearing is still needed to interpret.”
·
Nihilist:
“See? Nothing can be certain.”
o Blind Person: “You can’t prove that.”
o Nihilist: “You’re catching on! Nihilism
is the only philosophy worth following.”
·
Realist:
“But the reality of pain proves the certainty of existence.”
Pain, in fact, is the greatest motivator we know. When we feel pain, we seek relief by any means. A person in intense agony from a toothache may even pull their own tooth without a painkiller. In such moments, the pain of removal is negligible compared to the suffering already endured. If the pain hasn’t yet driven someone to act, it simply means the intensity is not yet unbearable.
Nihilism
Nihilism varies according to the
nature of the person who espouses the philosophy. The popular view is that nihilism
is synonymous with cynicism and despair. In truth, nihilism is a worldview in
which adherents claim to believe only in personal observations and experiences
that prove true—or in what others, deemed scientifically qualified, can prove
true—so long as it aligns with their own worldview.
Evidently, this modern view of
nihilism is based on the following premises:
- The beginning of the universe was a random event that occurred within a certain set of parameters;
likewise, all subsequent events have happened by chance. Life is an end in
itself, and there is no such thing as purpose.
- Consequently, absolute truth does not exist. Value systems and ethical codes are futile
constructs—except when they serve the nihilist’s self-interest or are seen
as natural behavior.
- As a result, responsibility, obligation, and the like
are falsehoods. Nihilists are inclined to
ignore or mock societal norms and conditioned mindsets.
- The first priority of every nihilist is self-interest. This includes personal well-being, satisfaction, and
survival. Every action is performed with this goal in mind. The nihilist
does not consciously pursue these actions; rather, they are viewed as
instinctual responses that require no reflection.
- There are two types of nihilists:
- (a)
Those with an undamaged psyche, who maintain inner unity and are
motivated by a creative libido. These individuals are not
necessarily self-absorbed and may find altruistic deeds enhance their own
well-being. In fact, some nihilists might even follow traditional
dogmas—so long as they prove personally beneficial.
- (b)
Those motivated by a self-destructive id, whose actions reflect a
death wish. These nihilists oppose anything suggesting purpose, values,
or social cohesion. Morals, ethics, and values are seen as human inventions.
Thoughts and ideas are not beliefs but mere images of a non-existent
reality; therefore, every proposition is considered invalid. Life is
viewed as pointless, and death—becoming nothing—is bliss. Since nothing
exists and we cannot truly know anything, non-existence is a blessing
that can never terrorize anyone. Thus, those who know nothing have
nothing to doubt.
The nihilist worldview is inherently
contradictory—a mindset seeking to justify the futility of life as the
meaningful basis for its own meaningless existence. The mere fact that a
nihilist holds any belief system is a contradiction. A true nihilist, by
definition, would commit murder-suicide or destroy everything upon realizing
that life is futile and meaningless. Yet even those with destructive
inclinations carry an inner fear: What if death is not as pleasant as
presumed? What if there is more to existence than merely being born to die?
When talking to someone who claims
to be a nihilist, the “why” test is often the best approach. There's no
need to point out that life is futile—the nihilist already believes that. What
they need to grasp is how invalid their reasoning is for holding to nihilism,
even though they’ll likely deny holding any belief system at all.
The "why" test is a
hard-hitting method, not unlike the annoying yet incisive curiosity of a
three-year-old. While it might seem aggressive or off-putting, it's necessary
when people are in denial and constantly speaking in contradictions. Asking why
someone hasn’t killed themselves yet is a jarring way to begin a
conversation—but in context, it becomes appropriate when someone uses nihilism
as their raison d'être (justification for existence). Their answer will
reveal a great deal about their inner world and often opens a new avenue to
explore their mindset.
In truth, few people are
dyed-in-the-wool nihilists—or even true atheists.
Fear and doubt are two reasons why
people often refrain from doing what they claim they would like to do. People
don’t kill themselves because they fear what lies behind the curtain of death.
They're not entirely sure their worldview is valid. This uncertainty exposes
that many are not truly convinced of their rejection of purpose.
Nihilists may admit that life on
Earth is futile, but they paradoxically find purpose in this futility, while
simultaneously denying that any purpose exists. Once a nihilist admits that any
purpose exists at all, it becomes possible to help them explore whether life on
Earth is futile—and yet life itself is not. It would be unjust for a Creator to
endow humans with the capacity to ponder futility, only to then discard them
without purpose or hold them accountable for actions, if the soul
disintegrates at death.
Nietzsche, before developing his nihilistic philosophy, was trained
in Christian theology. But he may have never read (or perhaps dismissed) the
words of Jesus:
“Do not fear those who kill the body
but cannot kill the soul. Rather fear Him who can destroy both soul and body in
hell” (Matthew 10:28).
If Nietzsche had read this, it
either did not register or he rejected it.
Not all theologians read the Bible
thoroughly. Many focus more on theology and the works of church doctors than
the Scriptures themselves. Often what they read of the Bible is filtered
through partial quotations. This explains why many theologians—especially in
Roman Catholicism—possess an impoverished understanding of what the Bible
actually says.
Jesus clearly taught that we are to
fear Him who can destroy the soul—not merely kill it. Killing doesn’t
always mean destroying. Jesus was killed but not destroyed. He returned to
life, and His body was not found in the tomb. After three days and three
nights, He rose from the dead. His physical body was revived, not discarded.
Though declared dead, His legs were not broken (unlike the other two crucified
with Him), affirming His death had already occurred (John 19:31–33).
Those who claim that nothing
exists are often self-righteous and adamantly certain of their views. But
for their own sake, they must face the reality that there is no significance
in being born to die. If someone says there is no ultimate purpose, they
are still focusing on purpose—albeit to deny it.
Others say, “God doesn’t exist, and
if He does, there is no evidence.” But to deny everything while suggesting
“something” might exist betrays doubt. If a person admits that they’re
not truly a nihilist or atheist, then it becomes possible to help them
rediscover that their moral instincts may point to something higher—something
objective.
For those who begin to doubt their
initial defenses about why good deeds matter, the metaphor of building a
house only to burn it down ought to provoke deeper thought.
The fact that many self-proclaimed
nihilists still observe social conventions suggests there is
significance in human interaction. Morality is about relationships—nothing
more. Many atheists and nihilists acknowledge that they find meaning in
relationships. And indeed, morality is about relationships between persons,
not things.
Attributing morality to our
connection with inanimate objects is generally considered absurd—though today,
that line has blurred. Some claim to have romantic or even sexual relationships
with dolls. While bestiality remains taboo, it too highlights the distortion of
true moral understanding.
Yet if we accept that humans are
made in the image of God, then it becomes easier to accept the absolute
truth of morality and the importance of our relationship with our Heavenly
Father. Sexual sin is an abomination in the sight of God—just as bearing false
witness and coveting what belongs to others.
Moral Reality and the Pain of Meaninglessness
Speaking of relationship
being the essence of morality—how does it feel to be the victim of abuse? How
does it feel to be dumped by a lover, or divorced by a partner? What is the
point of saying “I love you” if the words were never truly meant—especially
when that person ends up walking away?
Some further questions worth exploring:
1.
Don’t you think it is wrong when people do not keep
their word?
2.
How are we to trust anyone if what people say is always
meaningless?
3.
Wouldn’t you prefer it if people kept their promises to
you?
4.
Do you really like being lied to?
5.
Doesn’t it hurt to think that life is just so dreadful?
6.
Do you feel pain at all?
7.
How about emotionally—do you feel pain when you are let
down?
8.
Do you know what it feels like to have your feelings
hurt?
9.
Have you ever seen your feelings outside of your body?
10. Have
you ever seen your feelings at all?
We can ask these questions of ourselves. When
we do, we often find that life doesn’t seem as cheery as we might want it to
be. Positive thinking has its merits—but not when it’s used to deny reality. People can claim that life
isn’t futile, even if they believe there is no purpose. But in my experience,
when individuals begin revealing their self-interest and inner wounds—or when
they are confronted with the futility of their own nihilistic or atheistic
thinking—things begin to change. Life without meaning starts to feel completely
pointless. And without ultimate purpose, life is indeed futile.
As strange as it may seem, feelings are often spoken of as though they
possess personhood. People say their feelings are “hurt” as though
feelings are sentient beings. Yet feelings are never seen acting independently,
nor can they be bottled up and placed on a table for inspection. However, the
way people speak about them suggests that the unseen is real.
In experiencing emotional pain or joy,
individuals are grappling with the reality
of the unseen. These sensations may seem euphoric, thrilling, even
ecstatic—but when that thrill turns to anguish due to betrayal, neglect, or
emotional loss, it becomes what we could call spiritual pain.
Exploring why people claim there is no God yet believe there is meaning in living a futile life can be
both enlightening and deeply engaging. The key is to enter a person’s
thought-world through open conversation, drawing out their hidden assumptions
and deep convictions. This rarely happens through interrogation—what I earlier
called the “why test.” The “why
test” resembles cross-examination and is more appropriate when someone becomes
defensive and insists that their view is correct despite contradictions.
Real relationships are based on trust, and trust requires mutual
understanding. When I want to discover what someone truly believes, I often
ask: “What is your perception of being born
to die?” This question helps reveal whether the person desires truth or
prefers illusion. People who want to “be real” are willing to confront life’s
futility. Once someone admits that life
was not meant to be futile, they can begin to reflect on whether there
might be a higher purpose to
human existence.
Without that higher purpose, there is no meaningful destiny to set one’s hopes
upon. Personally, this is essential when determining whether I can trust
someone. If a person has no concept of integrity or morality, I consider them untrustworthy.
One cynic claimed that nobody truly denies the
possibility of life after death. He argued that if you don’t believe in this
world’s futility or a higher purpose, consider this: Why do Hollywood film producers continue making movies centered
on death, destruction, and existential dread? They sell these nihilistic
fantasies to the masses for money—and their significance is measured not in
truth, but in Oscars, Grammys, bank balances, and red carpet
fame. As for what happens after death? These elites believe a deal will be
offered—and perhaps they’ll bribe their way into the pearly gates.
Meanwhile, futurists imagine a coming age of enlightened
existence—made possible by scientific progress and technological change. They
envision a world where humans live more harmoniously with each other and with
nature. Morality will increase, they claim, because education will flourish.
People will be taught to respect one another and the Earth. Racism will cease
as humanity appreciates the unique traits of each ethnicity. Societies will
blend into a more homogenous whole, drawing strength from diversity. Outdated
traditions and social constructs that hinder peace will simply fade—not by
force, but by the collective recognition that they are useless.
It’s a compelling vision—but one must ask: if there is no higher purpose, and all is ultimately meaningless, then what exactly are we progressing toward?
Futility, Futurists, and the Essence of Existence
Futurists may hold ideals they believe will
transcend current thinking and destructive lifestyles. But the reality is,
these ideals are not occurring today—and
human nature must change before
society can change. Technology does not change a person’s thinking or belief
system. It may be used to bring about what a person desires, but it cannot
change the nature of that person.
For instance, if a nihilist sees a gun as a
means to terrorize those who do not possess guns, he will likely proceed
without hesitation. However, if others realize that gun ownership can deter a
nihilist from harming them, they may invest in guns for self-defense. In that
moment, the nihilist—confronted by resistance—modifies his behavior. This
highlights the futility of belief systems
that can be easily revised when
people begin to take personal responsibility.
One nihilist wrote:
“Nihilism is great! Nothing matters! Have a
good time! Chill out! Be good to each other! Be a hippy/nihilist hybrid and
love the world!”
But if nothing matters, why advise people to
be good to each other? That statement is inherently self-contradictory. If being good matters, then not everything is meaningless. Such internal
conflict in thought exposes the frailty of nihilistic reasoning. Yet, the selfishness of the selfish is not easily
overcome—unless they are left to swim in their own excrement and come to hate
the stench of their own lives.
Psychiatrist Anthony Daniels (writing under
the pseudonym Theodore Dalrymple) once stated:
“When every benefit received is a right, there
is no place for good manners, let alone for gratitude.”
In a radio interview discussing his book Life at the Bottom: The Worldview That Makes the
Underclass, Daniels recounted an experience with a woman living in public
housing. She was a single mother with several young children. Visiting her
home, Daniels was shocked by the state of her backyard: cluttered, dangerous,
and filthy—an open invitation for rats. When he asked her when she planned to
clean it up, she responded that she had already called the council multiple
times, but they hadn’t come. She didn’t see it as her responsibility. She had no concept that initiative, not entitlement, prevents
harm and disease.
This mindset, cultivated by nihilistic philosophies, fosters a victim culture. People raised in this
worldview do not believe they can make a difference in their own lives or in
their own backyards. Similarly, the futility
of life can only be overcome when individuals take the initiative to
ask whether there is a higher purpose
beyond simply being born to die—and watching all their efforts burn to ash.
Like the woman surrounded by backyard junk, those who live dependent on welfare
often see themselves as victims rather than agents of change. Someone else is always to blame.
The Greek philosopher Hegesias of Cyrene (3rd century BC) taught that happiness is impossible. Convinced of
life’s futility, he argued that wealth or poverty, freedom or slavery—none of
it mattered more than death. Life contained more pain than pleasure. According
to the Roman orator Cicero, the
Egyptian king Ptolemy II Philadelphus
banned Hegesias from teaching in Alexandria because his book, Death by Starvation, was persuading people
that death was preferable to life.
Surely, it is better to seek a higher purpose than to embrace
such hopeless philosophies. The greatest futility is not merely to be born and
die—but to believe that existence itself
has no meaning.
Yet we humans can grasp the concept of eternity and infinity—abstract ideas far beyond survival instincts or
materialistic thinking. If we are capable of contemplating eternity, then we
are capable of comprehending ultimate
meaningfulness. To reject the idea that our existence serves any
purpose apart from blind chance is to abandon
our right to eternal life, if it exists. It is to abdicate our claim
to justice, and to surrender any
concept of essential self or
moral human nature.
To say that the universe is all that exists,
and that there is no meaning outside its bounds, is to disregard much of scientific inquiry, which increasingly
suggests there is more to reality than matter alone. We may feel as though we
live in an unresponsive, materialistic universe—but it is not an isolated one, even if we feel
disconnected from its Author.
The atheistic
existentialist nihilist movement, made popular in 20th-century France
by Jean-Paul Sartre, was based
on the premise that “existence precedes
essence.” In other words, we exist first, and then we define ourselves.
This view expresses a form of scientific
materialism, but it raises a contradiction: science is the pursuit of truth. If truth does not
exist, then scientific discovery has no meaning—just as nihilists claim. But
this renders their entire argument absurd
and self-defeating.
The reality is: essence is existence. We exist because we possess the essence of being. If we did not possess
essence, we would not exist. Likewise, we know God The Creator must exist because we are
capable of conceiving eternity
and infinity. These are not
inventions—they are intuitive faculties
of the soul.
God, therefore, is the essence of time and infinity. He is the
foundation of all existence. As Scripture says:
"All things were made through Him, and
without Him was not anything made that was made." (John 1:3, WEB)
Everything that exists does so because of the Lord God, Creator of the Universe, the Creator of Heaven and Earth. "For in Him we live and move and have our being!" (Acts 17:28).
