We approach the precipice where a choice must be made and must be made clearly and purposefully. The decision that is to come will not be one that can be unmade. We must choose our end, or we must choose our means.

Humanity has peaked. Our great danger is no longer war, famine, or plague. It is not a thing that threatens our lives, but what threatens our souls. Our species stands on the brink of the great divide. We must determine, once and for all time, who and what we are, and, most importantly, why. The everlasting question must now be answered by all men, and answered without uncertainty. For the answer we choose may not be taken back. We must finally state why we are here.

The Meaning of Man

The advent of Evolution set the great mass of intellectuals free from the need for God. It satisfied their vain hearts to have found only the means by which they were made. They soon scoffed at the meager strivings of all men before them to answer the riddle of their existence through the manufacture of gods and creeds. They now knew the how, and the how was enough to nullify the why—as if the reason for learning chords on a guitar was not to play guitar, but only to understand how the guitar is played. God, however, always puts the horse before the cart. That mass of men who always did, and continue still, to seek their meaning and not merely their means in God were neither foolish nor ignorant. They loved music more than notes. They loved the painting more than the paint. They loved God, and that is the great difference, and that difference is the great divide.

The Lands of Day and Night 

Seeking and loving the means and not the end is on this side of the barrier. Over the brink lies an already blasted wasteland of meaningless means—a vast library of stories with no conclusions. Yet that is the edge over which the world is slipping. It is darkness unthinkable. It is true hell. 

There, in the dark, men grope about for pleasures and find them innumerable, though they are all of them pointless. Yet each darkens his eyes further still. It is certainly a truism, but then fools do not know truth, and so it is worthwhile to state it simply: if something has no point then it is pointless.

The Fact of Narrative

The point here is that there is a point. There is a reason we are here. There is a direction we are heading. We are not mere senseless concoctions of mass and energy, a skin bag of chemicals, as my biology teacher so indelicately put it. Everything on earth and in the heavens backs up this notion. 

The universe holds an infinite library of stories. Everything begins and everything ends, even the universe itself. From galaxies to bacteria, everything is on an adventure. Every adventure tells a story. Each story has a meaning. 

Now, one can certainly write stories without endings, or even endings without morals, but these are, all of them, chaotic, stupid, and unnatural. Stories of this type serve mainly as declarations of their authors’ vanity and self-indulgence. In reality, every story has a moral, and the moral can only be discovered by discovering the end. Moreover, as the only intelligent creature, it is the burden and pleasure of man to make those discoveries.

Mankind’s Story

Of all living things, only Man can look into and find the way that a star is born and then the violence in which it dies. Only Man has the poetic, even godly, instinct to breathe life into those events with potent imagination. Among all creatures, Man alone writes the story of the universe as it unfolds before him. Man alone can see and understand its beginning, middle, and end. He looks back to the start of time and declares with surety how all began. He stands in the present and shows how it all continues. He looks forward into the future and prophecies with certainty how it will all end. If men would but step back from their egos for a minute, they could not help but see the great fact: they are made in the spitting image of God. More amazing still, as His copies, they possess His abilities.

This great discovery lies literally within the fingertips of all mankind, yet the mass of them fail ever to grasp it. They miss the forest for the trees. Man is made in the image of God. Man is a creator. Man is a poet. Man is a lover. These three great facts set him above the whole rest of the universe. These three great facts are the beginning, middle, and end of his story. Man builds a world to suit his needs. Man interprets the world to feed his heart. Man seeks his one love to fill his wound. For, made in the image of God, Man was made for God. As a man and woman seek their equal in the race of men, God sought His equal in the race of God. We were made to be as He is, not as individuals, but as a single-body comprised of myriad parts—numberless cells becoming one person—that person being God’s bride. That is why Man’s last great discovery was merely how he was made. His first discovery was why.

Yet man’s creative, poetic, and loving powers are corrupted and turned inward. Thus, at last, we arrive at the long awaited reckoning. We approach the precipice where a choice must be made, and must be made clearly and purposefully. The decision that is to come will not be one that can be unmade. We must choose our end, or we must choose our means. Know that to choose the latter is to grasp at vapor and wind. Still, I fear that most will unfurl their arms like sails to embrace the coming storm, and precious few will turn their ships to harbor before it strikes.