Casting My Pearls

By Jesse Eric Whitehead

I hoist the bulging bags of recycling with each hand, and head for the front door, the clinking sounds of glass and metal filling the air.

“What a racket,” says my roommate Matt, lazily sprawled out on the sofa watching TV, a Pepsi in one hand, a bag of chips in the other.

“Hey bro, open the door,” I say, “got my hands full.”

He laughs, “sorry bro, got my hands full too.”

I finagle the knob open somehow and take the bags out to my Jeep. I return for the remaining bag and my keys. As I walk back into our shared living room, Matt says, “why do you waste your time with that? It’s stupid, man.”

“I’ve always recycled,” I defend myself. “It’s such a waste filling up the dump with stuff that can be reused again. Actually, it seems kind of immoral to trash the world, don’t you think?”

“Oh, come on,” Matt scoffs. “We’re in the last days. Jesus is coming back anytime. It doesn’t matter.”

I shake my head. “You know, people have been saying it’s the end of the world since I was a little kid. Ever since Jesus walked on earth really, two thousand years ago. God wants us to be good stewards of the earth. We’re supposed to take care of it, not trash it.”

Matt shrugged, dismissing my words with a wave of his hand. “All talk. It’s too late for that. I’m not recycling when I’m going to be leaving in the Rapture at any time. You know, a prophet even came to my church recently and said God told him that Christ is coming back very soon. Maybe even today.” Matt sings the words to the old hymn, “when the roll is called up yonder, I’ll be there!”

“Well, maybe it could happen today,” I concede, “but what if it doesn’t? I mean, what if it takes another two thousand years? Or what if it already happened, and we missed it? Didn’t Jesus tell his disciples that he would return before they passed away?”

“Man, I thought you were a Christian,” Matt smirks. “That’s ridiculous. Look at what’s going on in the world. All Christians should know we’re in the last days.”

“I am a Christian,” I say, “but I’m just asking, what if? Can’t you see the effects of pollution? Climate change? The polar caps melting, the weather getting more extreme, animals going extinct. The science is undeniable.

Matt rolls his eyes, his smirk deepening. “Have you gone woke? Climate change is fake, bro. It’s what the liberals, democrats, and communists made up to control people and dumb them down.”

“The real truth is in the scriptures. When Jesus comes back, you can have this world, because I won’t be here.”

“I read scripture too,” I reply, “but maybe I read it differently than you. Faith won’t clean our oceans, land, and air. Doing the right things, like recycling, and less polluting, will. We need to be responsible. We can’t just ignore what’s going on.”

“Sure we can,” he retorts. He empties his Pepsi, crumples the can, and hands it to me. “For your recycling.”

“Look bro, you can waste your energy on recycling, but I won’t. I’m not going to worry about it. The world is evil, it’s trash. It’s all going to burn, anyway. When the trumpet sounds, I’ll be flying through the clouds with the angels.”

I’m sad and frustrated at Matt’s entrenched attitude. He seems more focused on his own well-being and personal salvation than that of the planet and its inhabitants.

“Your faith offers you escape,” I say, “but my faith in God, and my belief in science, compels me to act. If God gave us this beautiful planet, why should we let it go to hell?”

“Well, I sure won’t be going to hell, but maybe you will be,” Matt snorts. “I trust my faith more than I trust your science.”

I can’t counter that. He is implacable. I feel like I’m casting my pearls before swine, something Jesus once said. Some people’s minds can’t be changed, no matter the facts or reasoning.

“Later,” I say, as I nod and step out the door, bag and keys in hand, leaving Matt to his smug disconnect. I’m not an authority on “end times,” but right now I’m living in “these times.” And I’m going to do my part as long as I’m here.