The sun was slowly rising behind me as I drove. My mind was a jumbled mix of thought as I headed to my doctoral class on the philosophy of postmodernism. In my lap sat a book I was reading on Friedrich Nietzsche, the Nietzsche who is known in philosophical circles as the great proponent of nihilism, which laid the foundation for postmodernism. Nihilism did not teach that man was free to break moral laws, rather, it taught that there were no moral laws to break. Nietzsche believed that "the uppermost values devalue themselves, that all goals are annihilated, and that all estimates of value collide against one another." Life, philosophy and religion are all genuine nothingness.

I was trying to put my finger on this nothingness when I spotted a hitchhiker in the distance. Against my better judgment I stopped, threw Nietzsche in the back seat, backed up and introduced myself to Earl. Earl was a country western song personified. He had been married twice, reeked of hard liquor, had a daughter he did not know, and spent the better part of his life on the construction crew of a traveling fair. To use Earl's words, his "odometer had turned over more than once." He had two weeks off from the fair, and I enjoyed the company as we drove.

I tried to engage Earl in a conversation about his faith and was served some predictable, canned good-ole-boy lines. After more probing he finally turned to me and said, "It don't really matter. I just basically do what I want and don't try to hurt nobody. What I do don't really mean anything anyway. Know what I mean?"

I did know what he meant. In fact, I knew exactly what he meant; I had just been reading about it. I could hardly believe it, but sitting in my front seat was a real live nihilist. So there I was, Earl in the front seat, Friedrich in the back; Southern Comfort meets German nihilism. We were all going the same way to very different destinations.

As Earl began to speak, I realized the similarities were uncanny. It was almost as if Earl and Nietzsche met in a parallel universe and decided to both come to this time and see who could find the meaning of life. If that were the case, I would definitely say Earl wins. Nietzsche spent his life and arrived at nihilism, while Earl arrived at nihilism and spent his life. Earl lived what Nietzsche thought, while Nietzsche merely thought what Earl lived. Sure Earl will never have a scholarly journal in honor of his thought, but then again Nietzsche never was thrown out of a Willie Nelson concert.

As I dropped Earl off, I shared my faith with him again and left him with a book on how to find Christ. Some may think it a waste of time, but time has not yet run out for Earl like it has Nietzsche. For while I will never meet Nietzsche, I am afraid that Earl will.