Nihilism and Christianity

It’s 3:10am on May 19, 2019. I’m listening to my favorite album of all time “Stay Gold” by First Aid Kit. It came out in 2014 and its nihilistic lyrics put words to my traitorous Christian thoughts for the first time, to beautiful melodies, as a gift. Oh yeah, I had a panic attack today in public today that triggered a manic episode for me, so yeah, no sleep. I’m not tired at all. So I just find things to do while the normal people sleep.

Nihilism is an interesting party topic, but to really study it is a great joy. Nihilism appeared in 1817 defined as “the doctrine of negation.” From Latin nihil “nothing at all.” The term has ties to the Russian Revolution. I have experienced the unrequited (on His part) love of God. I just know it and He is real. But if I weren’t a Christian, and even as a Christian, I lean extremely towards the nihilistic side of life. I don’t think there’s a problem with this as long as I am willing to weep at the feet of Jesus in gratitude.

I can’t tell you how many klonopin I’ve taken to fall asleep, sweet sleep, away from the suffering. (And don’t worry, I am well under the overdose margin; I am not trying to kill myself, so please don’t be alarmed.) I’m on my third glass of wine (over three hours). But I pour heavy, and the bottle’s empty. There’s a great Andrew Bird lyric that come’s from his song, “So Much Wine, Merry Christmas,” that goes, “Listen to me, butterfly, There’s only so much wine, That you can drink, In one life, To save you from the bottom of your glass.” I love that affront to the numbing of the pain of true nihilism. You see, most people aren’t true nihilist’s; they’re existentialists. I’m not knocking existentialism, but coming up with your own meaning to life is different then embracing the vast wasteland of life.

I am mad at God. I truly wish this wasn’t the case; I do devotionals and read books by devout Christian authors, but I can’t shake my rage at the sufferings of this chaotic, lonely planet. Let alone my own sufferings. So, to the utter dismay of my Christian friends, I fall asleep embracing the Chaos. Or I completely numb myself with drink and dance and end up somewhere safe every night, God only knows how. I know there’s a God. I’ve irrevocably felt him in the depths of my core. But sometimes it’s easier to embrace what seems utterly obvious, that “shit gets fucked up and people just disappear” (to quote a First Aid Kit song) then to have the integrity to uphold the goodness of God. I admire you, you followers of Christ, who can live, day in and day out with no questions, but that’s not me. That’s never been me. I do believe; help my unbelief.