I came to a rather profound conclusion a couple of weeks ago. My life has no meaning.
For all of my theology and talk of God's love, the fact is, I'm a big fat faker.
I walk down the street and fully expect people who look at me to know: I may be able to articulate the theological view that God is love, and we are created in God's image, and we are made for love, but deep down inside, I actually believe that I am one of God's few mistakes; I am one of those God probably wishes she could claim a do-over on.
I have come to the seemingly valid conclusion, based on observable evidence, mind you (I honestly believe my conclusions would hold up under scientific scrutiny--replicable results and all that), that I have nothing of real value to offer the world, let alone any person in this world. My life has no meaning.
I suck. I have about as much value, maybe less, than the likes of Ted Bundy and John Wayne Gacy. I mean, Ted Bundy at least provided a fascinating case study. John Wayne Gacy not only provided a fascinating case study, but made it so easy to mock Republican candidate Michele Bachmann for her inability to keep her facts straight.
I am not infamous. I'm just unimportant. Worse than that, really, I am simply in-valid. I have nothing to offer that anyone wants. I am irrelevant.
And it's not as though this is something I can change. One cannot simply make something out of nothing.
So, I take up space. And precious resources like oxygen every time I breathe and non-renewable fossil fuels when I drive to work each day. I waste people's time with my need to clarify things so I know I'm doing it right. I waste people's Saturdays when they come to my blog and read about my descent into the mire and muck of self-pity. Those who read this will surely agree and grow bitter and resentful that I took their precious time.
Big fat faker. Irrelevant. In-valid. No one wants anything I have, so it must be the case that I have nothing of value to offer. Worthless.
One day, my cats really will eat my undiscovered corpse, and then, at least, I will have served a purpose: keeping them alive, and making the clean up job so much easier. I anticipate, of course, that they will begin with my eyes. Any chance I can just fast-forward through the intervening 60 years?