On Monsters and Phantoms

by H.G. Roberts

Everything changed knowing I was going to die. A strange dichotomy took hold, anchoring me in a limbo world where everything mattered, yet nothing mattered. Everything had value, yet nothing had value. I couldn’t pick a lane. I couldn’t decide if I should dig in or let go. Every word I spoke to Miranda and others at Glasser was delivered with as much love, empathy, service, conviction, and compassion as I could muster. I tried not to waste my words, lots of which were “yes” and “of course” and “I’d be happy to.” Brand management suddenly became a meaningful pastime, however specious I had once thought it.

I wanted every moment to count, but count because soon every moment would only be a memory, a chance for Miranda, Cali, whomever, to reflect favorably on my life,

I wanted everyone to remember me fondly, even if God wouldn’t. At best, I could bequeath to others the ability to smile when they thought of me.

There’s authority dependence, lack of personal agency, sources of external validation, false identities.

Without Satan constantly working against you by tempting and thus corrupting men’s hearts and minds into sin, redemption and salvation are moot, and mercy is meaningless.

On the surface, we could say that a God who has a desire to redeem is a God worthy of our worship. But when we recognize that you need evil and damnation for redemption to actually work, we scratch our heads and ask how a system like this makes any sense, or why it’s even necessary.