Of Life & Massive Butts

(As a gesture of good faith, here's a really long post.)

I was sitting outside, enjoying some sunshine when an ant started to crawl up my foot. As I bent to obliterate the impertinent insect, it occurred to me how very cruel that would be.

Just think about it. That poor ant, let’s call him Ben, had been busy minding his own little ant life when suddenly comes along my big butt to end his brief but happy life. For all I know poor Ben had had to ran for his life, leaving his poor ailing grandmother to die in the shadow of my fast-approaching rear. Maybe Ben had a wife and two little ant babies. Or not because that’s not how ants reproduce but for the sake of argument, Ben had a nice little family unit going on and I may have pulverized them into mulch. Their tiny ant brains smeared against the ground. Oh the horror!

When you think about it though, Ben’s minuscule existence is a lot like everyone else’s. I mean, it’s unlikely that your present reality will be cut short by the appearance of a massive butt (unless you make a habit of walking behind a blind sumo-wrestler) but there’s plenty of potentially fatal surprises that could come your way. Chemical accidents, fire accidents, heavy-machinery accidents, all-forms-of-transportation accidents. You could take ill, the doctor could miss something, the pharmacist could be a quack, the wound could get infected, you could survive the fall only to pass out on the third floor staircase the next day. Earthquakes, tsunamis, erupting volcanoes, sink-holes, floods, mud-slides, collapsing buildings…  There’s a veritable array of massive butts. It’s enough to make you want to stay home and never leave.

But who’s to say you’re any safer there.

I’d like to think Ben knew all that. I won’t think any less of him because he happens to be an ant. I say: Ben knew he was probably going to die as he crawled up my foot. But he did it anyway because he had a family that needed food. Or he was just curious. Or he did it on a dare. Or it was hard-wired into his DNA. The reason doesn’t matter. Ben was living his life.

Alright I admit it. My metaphor is falling to pieces and it may have been shaky to begin with. But is there anything so scary as the unanticipated? Do we all live with a sub-conscious fear of our impending destruction? And so we save up for the inevitable arrival of that rainy day while doing everything within our power to keep it at bay for as long as we can. We lock our doors at night. We get insurance. We keep dogs.

I think there’s a lot to be said for the blind, stupid courage it takes to live your life. For Bens crawling up your foot. It’s probably easier to do if you don’t think about this stuff. But if you do spend time thinking about it, then you would come to either one of these two conclusions;

1. The world is a terrible, senseless place where horrible things happen to anyone at random, OR
2. It’s only by the Grace of God that you have survived this long

I prefer the latter conclusion myself seeing as creation speaks to the intelligent design of a creator but that’s a whole different story and I’d have to find another ant. But if God is still interested in keeping you around then He must have a reason. Why don’t you ask Him what it is. If he cares enough to give Ben a reason to clamber up my foot then He cares enough to give you a reason to leave the house in the morning. He’ll answer you, I promise. Not how you might expect but He will answer.