A Survivalist Argument for Divine Intention
[Opening Scene – Light tropical rain, ambient jungle sounds]
Jamie enters, holding a banana leaf like an umbrella. Symeon is seated on a log near a small campfire, sipping tea from a tin cup.
Jamie (bright-eyed):
Symeon, I’ve been reading about human origins again. You know, the latest theories say early humans evolved in warm, lush places like this—rainforests! Makes sense, right? Plenty of fruit, no need for clothes. Paradise!
Symeon (without looking up):
Try sleeping one night naked in Borneo and get back to me.
Jamie (laughs nervously):
Wait, seriously? I mean... it sounds possible…
Symeon:
It sounds possible—until you spend time here.
The jungle is charming around 2 p.m.
At 2 a.m., it’s something else entirely.
Jamie:
How bad could it be? I mean, you just find a banana leaf and curl up, right?
Symeon:
Yes. Under a leaf.
With centipedes.
And leeches.
And ants. With goals.
And when the rain turns cold, and the damp gets into your bones, you’ll realize:
A naked ape does not survive the night in Borneo.
Jamie:
But early humans must have adapted over time—gradually developed tools, maybe some shelters…
Symeon:
Gradual doesn’t cut it when exposure kills you before dawn.
You don’t invent fire one toe at a time.
You don’t evolve a sentence before you’re eaten by something with more fur and less philosophy.
And you certainly don’t outlast a jungle thunderstorm with optimism and abs.
Jamie:
Okay... but isn’t evolution kind of amazing? I mean, life finds a way, right?
Symeon:
Life does find a way.
But not by accident.
And not without language, memory, cooperation, clothing, and someone willing to teach you where the dry logs are.
Jamie:
So what are you saying? That God dropped off a tent and some trousers?
Symeon:
I’m saying the rainforest points to design, not chance.
You don’t write a symphony by dropping rocks on a piano.
And you don’t get human consciousness by falling out of a tree and hoping for the best.
[Sudden rustling in the bushes]
Jamie leaps up. A large jungle centipede crawls out from behind a log.
Jamie: (yelping)
OH. NOPE. NOPE. NOPE.
Symeon:
Ah. One of the locals.
You’ll find the banana leaves are less helpful when your foot is bleeding and philosophical despair sets in.
Jamie:
This is not paradise! This is… this is… divine judgment!
Symeon:
Or divine mercy—reminding you that you were made for something more than surviving barefoot under a leaf.
Bonus Line (added by demand):
Symeon: And tell me this—if fur was working just fine… why would our ancestors ditch it and commit evolutionary suicide?
[Closing Scene – Rain picks up. Jamie huddles under Symeon’s tarp, looking humbled. A kettle whistles softly.]
Symeon (voiceover):
Some truths stick with you—like the memory of your first leech bite.
But others go deeper:
You were not made by this world.
You were made for the One who walked in its garden,
clothed its children,
and still whispers in the rain.
© The TheoLounge Project | Symeon & Jamie Series