Why Am I Here?

To Be Honest, I'm Still Not Sure.

This initial post’s titular question works on a couple of levels:

1. Why am I here on Substack?

2. Why am I here at all? (i.e., why do I exist?)

I have a bit of clarity about each, but my sub-titular ambivalence also attends each version of the question. I’ll start with the second.

In some ways, I’ve spent the forty-one years of my life pondering why I’m here. I find myself chronically seeking some means of justifying my existence, as if the sheer fact of my being is not justification enough (though it is).

In a lot of ways, this neurotic uncertainty has served me well. That anxiety for validation has led to a rather productive life and career. Trying to prove that you deserve to exist and be happy is a pretty effective way to get a lot done, at least in my experience. Of course, in a lot of ways, it’s not served me well at all. That desperate clawing for approval is no way to live. “Success” and “achievement” are perpetually moving targets, and so hitching one’s wagon to such stars is a recipe for frustration.

And to do so is also to believe a lie about oneself and about reality. No one has to prove their right to life or happiness. (More on that later.)

Over the last few years, through some therapy and intentional work on myself, I’ve gotten more adept at not doing this, though I still have a ways to go.

That brings me to the other question: Why am I on Substack? Given everything I’ve just (over?)shared about myself, do I really want to have another thing that I’m doing? Much less a thing with metrics, subscribers, and so on? Isn’t this just another food-source for the proverbial monkey on my back? Like I said, I’m not sure this is a good idea.

And yet here I am.

Why?

Well, I hope it’s not to set forth on yet another quixotic attempt to curry validation. For precisely that reason, I’m starting this venture by giving myself permission (in front of God and everyone) to quit if I decide that this isn’t working for me.

Nevertheless, I think I have things worth saying, and I’d like to be able to share them in case they’re helpful to others.

I’ve always been a writer, and find that I think better when the words are flowing from a pen (or keyboard) than when they remain “inner words” in my mind. With three books published and a fourth on the way, I want to find better ways of connecting with readers (both actual and potential). And I can’t think of a better way to do so than through writing. And the mode of writing I can engage in here fills a niche that none of the other fora I use really can. This forum will allow me to write in a more personal, even confessional way that isn’t really appropriate for the academic settings in which my work usually unfolds.

So why am I here?

As a theologian, I venture a theological answer to this question. I exist because God loves me and wants me to be. On the one hand, this is nothing special, because everything that exists does so by the love of God (either because it’s identical that love, which is to say, it’s God, or because God has lovingly willed that it be, which is to say that it is God’s creature). On the other hand, nothing could be more profound.

Creaturely existence is radically contingent, and this at a couple of levels. First, God alone is necessary, so the existence of creatures at all is a contingency (which, as my friend Jon Heaps, channeling Thomas Aquinas and Bernard Lonergan, points out, has nothing to do with the subjunctive mood, but simply means a dependence upon some other thing). Second, in our finite universe, characterized by emergent probability, there’s no need for any particular creature. The human race would still be what it is if my parents had never met.

And so, for any of us to be here means that we’re here on purpose, by God’s choice, rather than because of any need. Recognizing our contingency brings us to the point of recognizing the most radical affirmation of our being.

I am here because God loves me. I am here to bear witness to that love, both in the fact of my living, and in the work I undertake within that life. As a human being, I witness to that love existentially. As a theologian, I try to witness to that love through theoretical elaboration.

What to expect from Per Crucem in Deum.

My project is driven by questions of how it is that human beings come to share in the life of God (this lies behind the title of this substack: Per crucem in Deum translates to “Through the cross into God”). I explore this in my academic publications. I’ll also be exploring it in a different mode here, and plan to write at a sustainable pace (something like every two to three weeks). This exploration will be useful for me whether or not it strikes a chord with anyone else. As I said, I think through writing, so this will be good for me, even if everything I write winds up vanishing into the proverbial aether.

I imagine that this platform will be an evolving endeavor. I’ll talk about the things I’ve written, the things I’m writing, and the things I’m thinking about as I try to make sense of my existence (and all others’ existence) in the context of God’s love.

Finally, a word on subscriptions. The launch of this Substack coincides with my decision to step away from social media (at least through Lent, though there’s a big part of me that hopes it becomes permanent). I’ll probably use at least the first Sunday in Lent to post a link to this essay, but, by and large, the only reliable way to be sure you know about new posts will be to subscribe. You can always unsubscribe if this isn’t working for you. After all, I’ve just given myself that same permission. I went back and forth on whether or not to have paid subscriptions as an option, finally deciding to do so, because I don’t make enough at my day jobs to be turning money away, should anyone be inclined to give it. But I’m also not approaching this as a revenue stream, and don’t anticipate paywalling anything in any meaningful way. So please don’t feel any pressure to pay for this. (I’ve never paid for anyone else’s Substack, nor do I intend to!)