Post-Armageddon LOLs

The one definite statement I could make about the future is that it hasn't happened yet.

Well, okay, there's one more thing I could say about the future: I hope there is one. I have stuff to do next week and next month. And later today for that matter. I want to believe that there will be a future. That's the fatal flaw in my personal philosophy of life: the current moment is a nice moment. Thank you. May I have a little more, please?

When I was a tiny little zilla-monster many years ago and the big people in my life--my mummy and pappy--put that big fancy-looking book in front of me (which I thought at the time was just there to teach me to read well and to learn something about how to live a good life) I searched through the words as earnestly as a little monster could, genuinely trying to understand what the big fancy book was trying to tell me. It had lots of interesting and mysterious stories in it and several compelling characters, so it was quite a gripping literary experience for my wittle bwain. Over the course of a few years, I managed to read the whole thing. I would have read quicker, but it was written in this funny old-English style that made comprehension rather slow and fitful. Numerous, sundry and several were the chapters therein, and the chapters of it, numerous, sundry and several were.

Eventually--and with a building sense of anticipation--I finally got to the last chapter of the big fancy book with real gold (!) around the edges of all the pages. And the name of that chapter was called Revelations (I looked it up in a dictionary: my other good book) and I found out that a revelation was a revealing; something being shown. I absolutely tingled with excitement!

As I began to read the last chapter of the big important story my excitement turned to dread; the rush of tingling became the sort of goosebumps that begin as an non-specific thrill and then turn into a feeling that is quite clearly fear. The last chapter (or book as they say) was about the end of the world.

Things began to feel very different to me that day. I began to pay closer attention to the sky. Where I had been accustomed to watching the wind blow the clouds around, I now began to wonder if God was in the clouds about to summon the storm that would signal Judgement Day; where I had previously been able to enjoy a pretty colored sunset, I now began to ask myself if the reddish color was a blood-red to presage the examination of all my most private thoughts and feelings for the small impurities that would lead to my spending all of eternity in a place of burning, weeping and teeth-gnashing.

That was all quite too much for me to deal with. I was a nice little monster, far from perfect but I had decent manners, I loved my mummy and pappy, I wasn't selfish with my friends and I wore reasonably clean clothes most of the time. And yet I suspected that God might find things about me that He wouldn't like. What would I say to God if Judgement Day caught me by surprise?

I did what any little monster did when the big questions in life got to be too much: I asked my best friend. He told me that if I noticed Judgement Day coming, I should quickly ask Jesus to forgive me for my sins.

"Do I have to know what my sins were?" I asked, still not quite reassured.

"Um, yeah. You know when you're sinning don't you?" he replied, trying to be helpful. He was a really good friend.

"Well, I never killed anybody and I don't steal stuff. And I don't know what fornification is, so I prob'ly haven't done that either."

"If you don't know what it is, how can you know whether or not you've done it?"

I had to think about that one for a minute. "I guess I would know. If it's a bad sin, I think I would feel bad doing it, like I would feel if I stole something."

We were both about 8 or 9 years old, but we were already very capable theologists.

Still I had this nagging sense of dread that Judgement Day would come and I would be caught with some sin soiling my spiritual raiment (see? I learned lots of interesting concepts from the big fancy book) that would get me a one way ticket to H, E, double hockey-sticks.

I carried that dread for YEARS. Decades even. It weighed on my mind and scared me until I really couldn't cope with the burden of the fear and I pushed it out of my conscious mind to let it fester and swell like a splinter that tweezers can't grab in the shadowy realm of my subconscious mind.

Years went by. After a while, I began to realize a couple more pertinent factors: I actually am a good person. God doesn't hate me any more than I hate myself. And it's actually humanity that has the biggest effect on the hastening of Judgement Day--or the stoppage of it.

It's actually up to us to end the world or not, by how we treat one another; by whether we decide to make big horrible wars or not. My vote is for NOT making the big war.

But it is my understanding that some of the people who share the world with me are people who are still carrying the fear around inside themselves. I found a way to get over my fear. Not every one has been so lucky. They aren't evil people. They're scared. It's hard for them to admit that they're scared. They probably need a hug.

Love conquers fear.

It's been said before, but I really hope I can say it a little more clearly today.

Love might save the world.

Have a good day.