12. ANCHOR: The Faith That Makes the Soul Unsellable

Does the Universe Care?

A purely materialist universe has no place for meaning. We are nothing but accidental byproducts of evolution. We may care for each other, since that is how the survival game has wired us. But the nature that created us does not care. Soon, everything will be forgotten: everything we have done, everything we have valued. Our values are a brief flicker in an infinite dark.

This loneliness may in the end drain our energy. We may still think that feeding the hungry is right – but in a universe that does not care, why keep going when it gets hard? The Golden Rule is simple in theory. In practice, it demands that we override our own ego and act against our immediate self-interest.

Why care at all in an indifferent universe? Every moral act becomes a defence against a vacuum. Without a source beyond ourselves, we slowly deplete our inner reserves. In the end we may collapse inward – like a star that runs out of fuel and folds into a black hole.

Many sense that we need God precisely here – as the ultimate guarantor of values, the one who makes morality objective and real. But a simple divine command is not enough. If God says 'you must care,' we might ask: why? If the answer is simply that he can crush us like ants if we don't, then might is right. And a morality built on that foundation leads straight to cruelty.

Nor do we need a perfect ethical system – a complete set of instructions with answers to every moral dilemma. What we lack is not instructions but fuel – the motivation to keep the Golden Rule when it is hard, when it is costly, when no one is watching. We need a bulwark against the voice that whispers: nothing really matters.

What I mean by positive faith is this: the conviction that ultimate reality itself cares – that what we do matters, finally and truly. How could we be careless and irresponsible if we have faith in a God who cares? A faith like that functions as the sun – an inexhaustible source of energy and stamina for the long work of caring.

What are the grounds for such a conviction? There are forces that pull us beyond what is visible: the true, the good, and the beautiful. And then there is the “divine folly”, which – as we saw in the previous chapter – once burst into history like an earthquake, sending shockwaves still felt today.

These are signs. If ultimate reality is personal rather than impersonal – friendly rather than indifferent – then a trusting faith is not wishful thinking. It is a recognition of what is truly there.

Let us now turn to a positive faith that has shaped human hearts for millennia and still offers a firm anchor in a stormy world. It is not a faith of favour and privilege, but of care and responsibility. The ultimate guarantor of values is not a God of raw power – but a God of love. That is the personal life-force that strengthens the soul and upholds human dignity.

Three Parts of the Anchor

When talk of human dignity is not grounded in anything, it easily becomes a castle in the air, which disappears at the slightest strain. The belief can be anchored in the biblical idea that we are created in the image of God. Human love of science and music is a sign of a deep inner link with the Creator.

When the belief that all human beings are created in the image of God becomes a fundamental part of who we are, we instinctively reject humiliation and dehumanisation. It creates a unifying bond. Dividing identities (like nationality) becomes less important than this unifying identity. It becomes natural to think that the Golden Rule and principles of justice apply equally to all.

Add to this another statement of faith. The Cross and Resurrection is a story of how Christ suffers and dies at the hands of the powerful, yet survives and triumphs. It is a complete reversal of conventional logic and worldly principles. Instead of ‘survival of the strongest’, it is about ‘survival of the gentle-hearted’.

Many in our society are attracted to the idea of unbridled power. What begins as an admiration for strength and toughness can turn into callousness and brutality. The ability not to care becomes a source of pride. Heartlessness becomes a virtue, gentleness a weakness. Such an attitude fits perfectly with fascist ideology, which glorifies uninhibited cruelty and sees it as something to be admired.

Faith in the Cross is a protection against this fall into darkness. It leads to a transformation of the heart and challenges the common perception that strength lies in the ability to dominate. The fascination with power disappears. Gentleness, not heartlessness, is the true value and source of strength. Even though self-defence can be justified, it is only a necessary evil. Callousness and aggressiveness must never become a pleasure or a way of life.

To believe in the Cross is to have faith that good will triumph over evil. It is a symbol of protection against a world where might is right and ruthlessness is the key to success. Believers gain the courage to refuse to take part in games that corrupt the soul. It is better to suffer injustice than to do injustice.

The mystery of the Cross carries a deeper significance: it is a sacrifice made to save sinners. There is ultimate responsibility, but also ultimate forgiveness. Measured against a perfect divine standard, we do not pass – and we know it.

That awareness changes everything. Knowing your own shortcomings before God produces humility, not superiority. And it adds something the secular outlook cannot supply: a divine perspective on the human blind spots. You never fully know what God knows about yourself – let alone others. You are not in a position to render final verdicts. The judgment seat is not yours. Such faith renders comparison and virtue signalling beside the point.

This is a God who does not watch us from afar, but who comes down to earth and suffers alongside us. When we look at the sufferer, we are looking at the divine. This is a faith that will not let us look away or lose heart: A God who suffers in the world, but cares about it anyway – a sun that shines on the righteous and the unrighteous alike.

Now combine these two beliefs with a third: God as a spiritual guide out of the shadowlands. A trusting faith opens the heart to the possibility of being wrong and frees us from the chains of stubborn certainty. It becomes possible to hold opposing ideas in mind and to integrate. It no longer matters so much if one’s worldview is shaken from time to time. There remains a steady pull toward truth and the good, toward the widening of horizons. We step out of the cave’s shadowed life and into the world of sunlight.

In the Christian tradition, God is known as Creator, Saviour, and Helper – the divine Trinity. United, they stand as a formidable force against what destroys and for what is good. Faith in God is like an anchor that keeps you from drifting away with the current. With faith, you’re harder to buy – less like a puppet on strings, less easily bent by flattery or fear. You learn to drive your own chariot. With trusting faith, your soul is not for sale.