Shifting Sands

The elevator doors slid open with a whisper, revealing an entry hallway. Empty, or so it seemed. The three of them moved onward, the way ahead lit only by a dim red glow emanating from the low ceiling. He paused, taking in his surroundings. It looked too… open, too easy. Like a simple office floor. It wasn’t, and he knew it. Perhaps knowing was not enough. The other two had walked ahead, the light dimming further as the lift doors behind them closed. Then, a split moment before they stepped into it, he saw the flickering red line on the floor.

‘No, wait..!’ The line sputtered and died.

Red lights flashed on. Alarms blared. All around them, a mechanical voice announced their unwanted presence:

‘Intruder! Intruder! Intruder!’

They ran. Further into the building, for a reason none of them knew. Past cubicles and darkened rooms; flashing red lights and mechanical voice driving them onward. Then, voices echoed behind them: the security guards come to investigate. They were trapped!

At last they chose a room – what was probably a mid-level employee’s office – and hid. His heart beat out a martial crescendo in his chest. His breaths were ragged, far too loud in his ears. They were children, the three of them, complete novices to the art of espionage; just frightened children being where they shouldn’t be. Now they had no way out. And the voices were drawing closer.

He panicked.

He didn’t hear the other two’s frightened whispers as he crawled out of his hiding place, his heart thundering louder in his ears then even the footsteps outside the opposite door; the footsteps that should have warned him to stay still. He ran.

Voices yelled. Footsteps echoed. He ran, crashing into tables and equipment, scattering stationery. A light! Pale luminescent green cut through the darkness; the emergency exit sign! Strength born of fear surged through him, and he ran. For a moment, the voices seemed further away. He ran, turned a corner, and suddenly the door was before him. His escape, right there! He turned to look as the voices became louder. His shivering hands failed to find a knob. Panic welled inside him, spiked. The knob – where was it!? Then his hands found the crash bar, and a part of him felt stupid for it, but only for a moment. The voices were closer.

He pushed the door open. Light flooded the room. Voices yelled in surprise.

‘Over there! The door!’

The door was heavy, meant to keep fire at bay. He shoved against it, felt it hit something. Something was blocking the other side! He pushed again, threw his weight against it, felt it move. A little more! One last push, and the boy slipped through. Where to go: up or down? A voice yelled, closer now. Up! He ran. Something banged against the door. He ran; up one floor, then another. The door crashed open, voices filled the stairwell.

‘You three go down! You two, with me!’

He pushed against the door; it was locked. He ran up, quietly now, for once common sense triumphing over mindless panic. The guards didn’t bother to though. He could hear them trying one door after another, working their way up to him. Panic rose

He tripped.

The moment of the fall seemed an eternity and an instant all at once, so that the crash caught him by surprise. Voices yelled; they’d heard him. The terror came again. He got up and ran, wincing at the pain that shot through his knee at each step. He tried the next floor; the door here too was locked. The next floor then! The footsteps grew louder, echoes bouncing off the walls into an eerie cacophony. He tried the next floor; it was open! He pushed through and limped into a storeroom. The emergency door crashed open. Voices flooded through, coming closer. Closer. He crept to the corner, sat shaking and bleeding with his knees tight to his chest. They were coming closer. Closer.

There was no way out now. Not for him.

Shivering tears drowned him in fear as the voices came to take him away.

---

I want to see a miracle.

Like a child who boasts of his father’s ability, and when challenged to prove his claims, runs to his father and begs him to do what often is impossible; to make a miracle. Often, the father realizes his child’s foolishness in promising what cannot be done. Rarely does he see that it is not only out of wanting to elevate himself that the child boasts. That simple, devoted admiration that a child has in his father often times goes unnoticed, something that dies when denied for too long. But deep within the child lies not an unshakable belief that his father is all-powerful, but rather, a desire to see his father attempting the impossible, just for him.

Though it seems that disappointment always follows the inevitable failure of a mortal father to do what mortals simply cannot do, to the child, a father that tries and fails is infinitely more deserving of his trust than a father who sees only his son’s error and refuses to try at all, for he knows that the father that failed gave his best for his son. It is not whether the father succeeds or fails that truly matters, for if he fails, the child will simply learn something new about the limits of human ability. Rather, it is about whether or not the father will actually try, whether or not his child is worth attempting the impossible for. Although in some things the child needs to learn what the father should and should not do, it is in the simple innocent trust that is born within a child that the foundations for a lifelong relationship is built. 

I want to see my Father do a miracle. I want to see Him challenge the odds and do what cannot be done, for my sake. I want to know that I am worth that miracle; that I am worth His effort, His time and His love. In its most simple, basic form, I want Him to prove His love to me. I want to see Him save me from the pit. I want to feel Him near me and hear His voice. I want Him to prove beyond all limitations and beyond all my doubts that He will come to my rescue and that He will do what no mortal father could or would do. But perhaps most of all, I want Him to prove that He will do it for me.

Just for me.

Like Peter, I was called. 

Like him, I stepped out of the boat.

Like him, I saw the waves and the storms. 

And like him, I sank. 

But when I turned, I could no longer see the Lord. 

And I floundered amidst the waves, desperately keeping my head above water. 

Like Peter, I reached out. I cried out. 

Maybe His hand is already there, waiting for me to hold on to Him. 

Maybe He is calling my name, telling me to grasp hold of His hands. 

Maybe I can hear Him. Maybe I can’t. 

Maybe I can’t.

We smile, though we hurt inside..  We laugh, to hide our tears..

    We smile, as we watch others’ happiness..

      We laugh with them, wondering if we’ll ever smile so truly..

We smile, to lift someone up..

  ..though we have not the strength to lift ourselves..

We see others smiling at us, and we smile in return..

  ..hoping that no one will see past the lies..

We smile when there’re people smiling with us..

 ..and cry bitter tears in the silence of our loneliness..

Wearing plastic smiles, and feigning good cheer,

  ..And greeting others with happy grins..

    ..Expecting them to wear their smiles, just as they expect us to wear ours..

And when the mask cracks, and the hurt seeps through,  

  ..They say nice things, and mumble comforting words, and think they understand..

    ..But do they?

And when they say enough, and the pain subsides,

We blink back the tears,

  And nod and smile,

    Saying, “I’m okay”,

    And, “I’ll be fine”,

  And put back the mask..

And we smile again.

---

'Let me explain the problem science has with Jesus Christ.' The atheist professor of philosophy pauses before his class and then asks one of his new students to stand.

'You're a Christian, aren't you, son?'

'Yes sir,' the student says.

'So you believe in God?'

'Absolutely.'

'Is God good?'

'Sure! God's good.'

'Is God all-powerful? Can God do anything?'

'Yes.'

'Are you good or evil?'

'The Bible says I'm evil.'

The professor grins knowingly. 'Aha! The Bible!' He considers for a moment.

'Here's one for you. Let's say there's a sick person over here and you can cure him. You can do it. Would you help him? Would you try?'

'Yes sir, I would.'

'So you're good...!'

'I wouldn't say that.'

'But why not say that? You'd help a sick and maimed person if you could. Most of us would if we could. But God doesn't.'

The student does not answer, so the professor continues. 'He doesn't, does he? My brother was a Christian who died of cancer, even though he prayed to Jesus to heal him. How is this Jesus good? Hm? Can you answer that one?'

The student remains silent.

'No, you can't, can you?' the professor says. He takes a sip of water from a glass on his desk to give the student time to relax.

'Let's start again, young fella. Is God good?'

'Er...yes,' the student says.

'Is Satan good?'

The student doesn't hesitate on this one. 'No.'

'Then where does Satan come from?'

The student : 'From...God...'

'That's right. God made Satan, didn't he? Tell me, son. Is there evil in this
world?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Evil's everywhere, isn't it? And God did make everything, correct?'

'Yes.'

'So who created evil?' The professor continued, 'If God created everything, then God created evil, since evil exists, and according to the principle that our works define who we are, then God is evil.'

Without allowing the student to answer, the professor continues: 'Is there sickness, Immorality, Hatred, Ugliness, All these terrible things, do they exist in this world?'

The student: 'Yes.'

'So who created them?'

The student does not answer again, so the professor repeats his question. 'Who created them? There is still no answer. Suddenly the lecturer breaks away to pace in front of the classroom. The class is mesmerized.

'Tell me,' he continues onto another student. 'Do you believe in Jesus Christ, son?'

The student's voice is confident: 'Yes, professor, I do.'

The old man stops pacing. 'Science says you have five senses you use to
identify and observe the world around you.

Have you ever seen Jesus?'

'No sir. I've never seen Him'

'Then tell us if you've ever heard your Jesus?'

'No, sir, I have not.'

'Have you ever actually felt your Jesus, tasted your Jesus or smelt your Jesus?
Have you ever had any sensory perception of Jesus Christ, or God for that matter?'

'No, sir, I'm afraid I haven't.'

'Yet you still believe in him?'

'Yes.'

'According to the rules of empirical, testable, demonstrable protocol, science says your God doesn't exist. What do you say to that, son?'

'Nothing,' the student replies. 'I only have my faith.'

'Yes, faith,' the professor repeats. 'And that is the problem science has with God. There is no evidence, only faith.'

The student stands quietly for a moment, before asking a question of his own.

'Professor, is there such thing as heat?'

'Yes,' the professor replies. 'There's heat.'

'And is there such a thing as cold?'

'Yes, son, there's cold too.'

'No sir, there isn't.'

The professor turns to face the student, obviously interested. The room suddenly becomes very quiet. The student begins to explain.

'You can have lots of heat, even more heat, super-heat, mega-heat, unlimited heat, white heat, a little heat or no heat, but we don't have anything called 'cold'. We can hit up to 458 degrees below zero, which is no heat, but we can't go any further after that. There is no such thing as cold; otherwise we would be able to go colder than the lowest -458 degrees.

Every body or object is susceptible to study when it has or transmits energy, and heat is what makes a body or matter have or transmit energy. Absolute zero (-458 F) is the total absence of heat. You see, sir, cold is only a word we use to describe the absence of heat. We cannot measure cold. Heat we can measure in thermal units because heat is energy. Cold is not the opposite of heat, sir, just the absence of it.'

Silence across the room. A pen drops somewhere in the classroom, sounding like a hammer.

'What about darkness, professor. Is there such a thing as darkness?'

'Yes,' the professor replies without hesitation. 'What is night if it isn't darkness?'

'You're wrong again, sir. Darkness is not something; it is the absence of something. You can have low light, normal light, bright light, flashing light, but if you have no light constantly you have nothing and its called darkness, isn't it? That's the meaning we use to define the word. In reality, darkness isn't. If it were, you would be able to make darkness darker, wouldn't you?'

The professor begins to smile at the student in front of him. This will be a good semester. 'So what point are you making, young man?'

'Yes, professor. My point is, your philosophical premise is flawed to start with, and so your conclusion must also be flawed.'

The professor's face cannot hide his surprise this time.

'Flawed? Can you explain how?'

'You are working on the premise of duality,' the student explains. 'You argue that there is life and then there's death; a good God and a bad God. You are viewing the concept of God as something finite, something we can measure.

Sir, science can't even explain a thought. It uses electricity and magnetism, but has never seen, much less fully understood either one. To view death as the opposite of life is to be ignorant of the fact that death cannot exist as a substantive thing. Death is not the opposite of life, just the absence of it.'

'Now tell me, professor. Do you teach your students that they evolved from a monkey?'

'If you are referring to the natural evolutionary process, young man, yes, of course I do'

'Have you ever observed evolution with your own eyes, sir?'

The professor begins to shake his head, still smiling, as he realizes where the argument is going. A very good semester, indeed.

'Since no one has ever observed the process of evolution at work and cannot even prove that this process is an on-going endeavor, are you not teaching your opinion, sir? Are you now not a scientist, but a preacher?'

The class is in uproar. The student remains silent until the commotion has subsided.

'To continue the point you were making earlier to the other student, let me give you an example of what I mean.'

The student looks around the room.

'Is there anyone in the class who has ever seen the professor's brain?' The class breaks out into laughter. 'Is there anyone here who has ever heard the professor's brain, felt the professor's brain, touched or smelled the professor's brain? No one appears to have done so. So, according to the established rules of empirical, stable, demonstrable protocol, science says that you have no brain, with all due respect, sir. So if science says you have no brain, how can we trust your lectures, sir?'

Now the room is silent. The professor just stares at the student, his face unreadable. Finally, after what seems an eternity, the old man answers. 'I guess you'll have to take them on faith.'

'Now, you accept that there is faith, and, in fact, faith exists with life,' the student continues. 'Now, sir, is there such a thing as evil?'

Now uncertain, the professor responds, 'Of course, there is. We see it everyday. It is in the daily example of man's inhumanity to man. It is in the multitude of crime and violence everywhere in the world. These manifestations are nothing else but evil.'

To this the student replied, 'Evil does not exist sir, or at least it does not exist unto itself. Evil is simply the absence of God. It is just like darkness and cold, a word that man has created to describe the absence of God.

God did not create evil. Evil is the result of what happens when man does not have God's love present in his heart. It's like the cold that comes when there is no heat or the darkness that comes when there is no light.'

The professor sat down.

---

(Taken from charmer-91's blog)