The Crisis of Human Survival
The Gospel Message in the Shadow of Cosmic Anxiety and Existential Dread
By John Bashir M.A. (Philosophy), M.Th.
Part-2
My Personal Experience
The claims of modern science deeply shake the traditional concepts of human centrality, moral meaning, and divine purpose. Man is portrayed as an accidental, finite, and purposeless being. If one steps back from the social distractions and artificial colors of human civilization — even for a few moments — and reflects in silence and solitude upon the vastness of the cosmos, one begins to feel overwhelmed by the terrifying realization of one’s own insignificance and fragility. I have personally undergone this experience.
A few years ago, a false news article was published in a local newspaper claiming that I had converted to Islam. In response, certain political and religious groups forcibly excommunicated me from the Christian community. Soon after, for only a brief period of a few months, I found some relief due to the attention I received from a Muslim institution, which invited me into various activities. They provided me with immediate housing and a monthly stipend — two fundamental securities that temporarily distracted me from the sense of what I had truly lost.
Man, by nature, is selfish. As long as his basic needs are fulfilled, he rarely reflects deeply on life or its meaning. Profound awareness often emerges only after extended periods of suffering. When one is gripped by distress and denied access to essential needs, the mind naturally turns to the core questions of life. In such moments, one seeks a Being capable of answering the ultimate questions — of survival, purpose, and loss. That Being can be none other than the Creator of the universe.
After a few months, when the aforementioned institution began to neglect me — and eventually dismissed me altogether — I found myself looking at life from an entirely new angle. During that time, I had to travel by motorbike between Karachi and Lahore almost ten times. Alone, beneath open skies, through inhabited regions and desolate wastelands, I journeyed and often had to spend the night in dangerous, unfamiliar places. The distance between these two cities spans two nights and three days — time which became fertile ground for deep thought and soul-searching.
Eventually, I was granted temporary shelter in the village home of a paternal cousin in Sheikhupura, as my wife and children were with me. Though he initially agreed, he was continuously instigated against me by certain figures back in Karachi. After a few months, even he asked me to vacate and find alternative shelter.
My true adversaries were not strangers, but rather certain minority political representatives, Christian journalists and poets, and corrupt religious figures — bishops and pastors associated with the Crusade mafia — all primarily linked to the Pakistan Peoples Party Minority Wing and MQM’s minority affairs committee. When such groups wish to deprive someone of dignity, they weaponize religion and spread false rumors. The entire community then turns against the individual, blinded by a manipulated narrative. I believe such people are, in fact, defeated souls — lacking truth or substance, and thus resorting to such tactics in desperation.
This was a time of double suffering for me. I reached out to a Christian friend and requested help, saying that if my family could just find a roof over our heads, I might return to Christian ministry. He agreed and called me to Faisalabad. But only four days later, one of his relatives — a pastor — learned of my presence and, by evening, began to argue and demand that I leave immediately. With no other choice, I pleaded for the night and approached a local Islamic institution for help, only to be turned away.
That night weighed heavily upon me. I hired a rickshaw, returned to the house, packed our belongings, gathered my wife and children, and reached Faisalabad Railway Station. We spent the night there, and by early morning, traveled to Farooqabad (Chuhar Kana). I left my family at my cousin’s again and went out in search of a home — unwilling to burden him any further. Thankfully, a kind property dealer, after hearing my story, offered us a house immediately. After completing the paperwork, we moved in before nightfall.
While my wife and children found some degree of comfort in this new shelter, I myself was haunted by the trauma of recent events. Sleep became elusive. One thought gripped my mind day and night: “What will happen to my children after I die?” What should I do? Why did all this happen — to me?
Over the past 8–9 years, my body has changed. Strength, youth, and beauty have all faded. Wrinkles mark my face, fatigue burdens my limbs, and my hair has turned silver. Life is clearly on its way toward its end.
The Gospel Message in the Shadow of Cosmic Anxiety and Existential Dread
By John Bashir M.A. (Philosophy), M.Th.
Part-2
My Personal Experience
The claims of modern science deeply shake the traditional concepts of human centrality, moral meaning, and divine purpose. Man is portrayed as an accidental, finite, and purposeless being. If one steps back from the social distractions and artificial colors of human civilization — even for a few moments — and reflects in silence and solitude upon the vastness of the cosmos, one begins to feel overwhelmed by the terrifying realization of one’s own insignificance and fragility. I have personally undergone this experience.
A few years ago, a false news article was published in a local newspaper claiming that I had converted to Islam. In response, certain political and religious groups forcibly excommunicated me from the Christian community. Soon after, for only a brief period of a few months, I found some relief due to the attention I received from a Muslim institution, which invited me into various activities. They provided me with immediate housing and a monthly stipend — two fundamental securities that temporarily distracted me from the sense of what I had truly lost.
Man, by nature, is selfish. As long as his basic needs are fulfilled, he rarely reflects deeply on life or its meaning. Profound awareness often emerges only after extended periods of suffering. When one is gripped by distress and denied access to essential needs, the mind naturally turns to the core questions of life. In such moments, one seeks a Being capable of answering the ultimate questions — of survival, purpose, and loss. That Being can be none other than the Creator of the universe.
After a few months, when the aforementioned institution began to neglect me — and eventually dismissed me altogether — I found myself looking at life from an entirely new angle. During that time, I had to travel by motorbike between Karachi and Lahore almost ten times. Alone, beneath open skies, through inhabited regions and desolate wastelands, I journeyed and often had to spend the night in dangerous, unfamiliar places. The distance between these two cities spans two nights and three days — time which became fertile ground for deep thought and soul-searching.
Eventually, I was granted temporary shelter in the village home of a paternal cousin in Sheikhupura, as my wife and children were with me. Though he initially agreed, he was continuously instigated against me by certain figures back in Karachi. After a few months, even he asked me to vacate and find alternative shelter.
My true adversaries were not strangers, but rather certain minority political representatives, Christian journalists and poets, and corrupt religious figures — bishops and pastors associated with the Crusade mafia — all primarily linked to the Pakistan Peoples Party Minority Wing and MQM’s minority affairs committee. When such groups wish to deprive someone of dignity, they weaponize religion and spread false rumors. The entire community then turns against the individual, blinded by a manipulated narrative. I believe such people are, in fact, defeated souls — lacking truth or substance, and thus resorting to such tactics in desperation.
This was a time of double suffering for me. I reached out to a Christian friend and requested help, saying that if my family could just find a roof over our heads, I might return to Christian ministry. He agreed and called me to Faisalabad. But only four days later, one of his relatives — a pastor — learned of my presence and, by evening, began to argue and demand that I leave immediately. With no other choice, I pleaded for the night and approached a local Islamic institution for help, only to be turned away.
That night weighed heavily upon me. I hired a rickshaw, returned to the house, packed our belongings, gathered my wife and children, and reached Faisalabad Railway Station. We spent the night there, and by early morning, traveled to Farooqabad (Chuhar Kana). I left my family at my cousin’s again and went out in search of a home — unwilling to burden him any further. Thankfully, a kind property dealer, after hearing my story, offered us a house immediately. After completing the paperwork, we moved in before nightfall.
While my wife and children found some degree of comfort in this new shelter, I myself was haunted by the trauma of recent events. Sleep became elusive. One thought gripped my mind day and night: “What will happen to my children after I die?” What should I do? Why did all this happen — to me?
Over the past 8–9 years, my body has changed. Strength, youth, and beauty have all faded. Wrinkles mark my face, fatigue burdens my limbs, and my hair has turned silver. Life is clearly on its way toward its end.
The Crisis of Human Survival
The Gospel Message in the Shadow of Cosmic Anxiety and Existential Dread
By John Bashir M.A. (Philosophy), M.Th.
Part-2
My Personal Experience
The claims of modern science deeply shake the traditional concepts of human centrality, moral meaning, and divine purpose. Man is portrayed as an accidental, finite, and purposeless being. If one steps back from the social distractions and artificial colors of human civilization — even for a few moments — and reflects in silence and solitude upon the vastness of the cosmos, one begins to feel overwhelmed by the terrifying realization of one’s own insignificance and fragility. I have personally undergone this experience.
A few years ago, a false news article was published in a local newspaper claiming that I had converted to Islam. In response, certain political and religious groups forcibly excommunicated me from the Christian community. Soon after, for only a brief period of a few months, I found some relief due to the attention I received from a Muslim institution, which invited me into various activities. They provided me with immediate housing and a monthly stipend — two fundamental securities that temporarily distracted me from the sense of what I had truly lost.
Man, by nature, is selfish. As long as his basic needs are fulfilled, he rarely reflects deeply on life or its meaning. Profound awareness often emerges only after extended periods of suffering. When one is gripped by distress and denied access to essential needs, the mind naturally turns to the core questions of life. In such moments, one seeks a Being capable of answering the ultimate questions — of survival, purpose, and loss. That Being can be none other than the Creator of the universe.
After a few months, when the aforementioned institution began to neglect me — and eventually dismissed me altogether — I found myself looking at life from an entirely new angle. During that time, I had to travel by motorbike between Karachi and Lahore almost ten times. Alone, beneath open skies, through inhabited regions and desolate wastelands, I journeyed and often had to spend the night in dangerous, unfamiliar places. The distance between these two cities spans two nights and three days — time which became fertile ground for deep thought and soul-searching.
Eventually, I was granted temporary shelter in the village home of a paternal cousin in Sheikhupura, as my wife and children were with me. Though he initially agreed, he was continuously instigated against me by certain figures back in Karachi. After a few months, even he asked me to vacate and find alternative shelter.
My true adversaries were not strangers, but rather certain minority political representatives, Christian journalists and poets, and corrupt religious figures — bishops and pastors associated with the Crusade mafia — all primarily linked to the Pakistan Peoples Party Minority Wing and MQM’s minority affairs committee. When such groups wish to deprive someone of dignity, they weaponize religion and spread false rumors. The entire community then turns against the individual, blinded by a manipulated narrative. I believe such people are, in fact, defeated souls — lacking truth or substance, and thus resorting to such tactics in desperation.
This was a time of double suffering for me. I reached out to a Christian friend and requested help, saying that if my family could just find a roof over our heads, I might return to Christian ministry. He agreed and called me to Faisalabad. But only four days later, one of his relatives — a pastor — learned of my presence and, by evening, began to argue and demand that I leave immediately. With no other choice, I pleaded for the night and approached a local Islamic institution for help, only to be turned away.
That night weighed heavily upon me. I hired a rickshaw, returned to the house, packed our belongings, gathered my wife and children, and reached Faisalabad Railway Station. We spent the night there, and by early morning, traveled to Farooqabad (Chuhar Kana). I left my family at my cousin’s again and went out in search of a home — unwilling to burden him any further. Thankfully, a kind property dealer, after hearing my story, offered us a house immediately. After completing the paperwork, we moved in before nightfall.
While my wife and children found some degree of comfort in this new shelter, I myself was haunted by the trauma of recent events. Sleep became elusive. One thought gripped my mind day and night: “What will happen to my children after I die?” What should I do? Why did all this happen — to me?
Over the past 8–9 years, my body has changed. Strength, youth, and beauty have all faded. Wrinkles mark my face, fatigue burdens my limbs, and my hair has turned silver. Life is clearly on its way toward its end.
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