Without Belief, Life Is Empty

“The cosmos is all that is, or ever was, or ever will be.”

--Carl Sagan

*

“The fool hath said in his heart, ‘There is no God.’ ”

--Psalms 14

*

Who can listen to the magnificent strains of the “Hallelujah” chorus without acknowledging the genius of its composer, George Frideric Handel?

An atheist lives in a wildly inhospitable place. Every statute and ordinance of the cosmos guarantees his destruction. The universe is destined to crush him under the weight of its grinding mass. He’s an orphan in a vast and indifferent void.

Brilliant astronomer Carl Sagan, an ardent atheist, frequently ridiculed religionists. He felt their pursuit of faith to be foolish.

According to close friends, he held steadfast to atheism to the end. When he died of pneumonia in 1996, there was no deathbed conversion. He left life affirming the cosmos--and rejecting God.

Sagan bade farewell to loved ones, convinced they were never to see one another again. He slipped into unconsciousness and, finally, nonexistence.

According to the renowned scientist’s beliefs, his DNA will continue to exist--at least until the universe is a spent ember--but the essence of who he was has been extinguished.

As a Christian, I view the cosmos differently. I made a personal choice a number of years ago to become a Christian, and that decision has profoundly changed my perspective.

For many years I beheld life through the narcissistic spectacles of the agnostic. For a short period even, I flirted with atheism. To borrow a Joni Mitchell lyric, “I’ve looked at life from both sides now.”

In a heartbeat, I’ll take the radiant truth that is the Christian gospel.

Since electing to become a follower of Jesus Christ, I’ve learned several remarkable truths:

1. That the magnificent creator of the cosmos indeed exists, and I can know him;

2. That he has known of me from the beginning and has made provision for me; and

3. That he loves me despite my failings.

How extraordinary! The one who carved the Grand Canyon, set waves to crashing against Big Sur’s promontories and built the Hawaiian island chain from the depths of the ocean floor reaches out to embrace me.

In accepting him, I’ve discovered that God brings depth and dimension to life. He adds meaning to every moment and texture to each spectacular sunset, to every alpine meadow and to an infant’s peaceful slumber.

Without him, I’m shackled to an altar of personal ambition or, worse, to an existence of unremitting emptiness and despair.

In his absence, I embrace the world’s substitutes for religion: career achievement, political and social activism, self-gratification. But the hunger that aches within my spirit goes ignored.

Since I’ve elected to follow him, he humbles me at every turn with forgiveness and generosity. He empties me of myself and fills me with something better--himself.

He lifts me, loves me, carries me, comforts me. And he accords meaning to absolutely everything.

The atheist’s vigil is lonely. Nothing of true significance or transcendence cares a whit about him. Though, frankly, I can’t understand why, I am loved by the creator of a billion galaxies.

When finally I go to my own deathbed, I have the assurance that I’ll not glide alone into a yawning abyss. The great First Initiator--my Heavenly Father--awaits with his promise of eternity.

“I am the way, the truth and the life,” Christ says.

Carl Sagan and I hold differing views of the cosmos. I’ve chosen one of hope. I possess hope, not because I’m smarter or more clever than Sagan--and certainly not because I’m more deserving.

I’m able to grasp it for one reason: Christ went to a cross to purchase my redemption. I embrace a profound truth that any 4-year-old will heartily endorse: “Jesus loves me, this I know; for the Bible tells me so.”

Beautiful simplicity, meant even for the wise.

On Faith is a forum for Orange County clergy and others to offer their views on religious topics of general interest. Submissions, which will be published at the discretion of The Times and are subject to editing, should be delivered to Orange County religion page editor William Lobdell.