The Big Questions

It always irks me whenever I hear someone call the idea of God “illogical”, as if it were more logical to believe in nothing at all without any impulse to investigate further into the true origin of our universe. You have to wonder from time to time why it is that we’re more inclined to give mankind and its inventions more faith than the Creator, why we cringe and shy away whenever we hear the name of Jesus. It wouldn’t be fair to say we’ve desensitized ourselves to God solely by fictionalizing Him in popular culture. No, it’s much more complex than that. For most of us, it’s more favorable to numb God out of our minds, because it relieves us of our accountability to sin, like throwing a ball through your neighbor’s window and not having to apologize. The first thing that Adam and Eve did after they sinned was run away from God, and it’s the same thing we’re doing now.

When you finally crack open the honesty box and start asking the big questions about life and death, it’s really not so illogical to believe that somewhere in a universe that has no beginning or end exists an equally as eternal God, that the only planet within our entire realm of deep space exploration that sustains life, harmony, and civilization, is our planet. Is it so illogical to believe in love, or any of the many other indescribable forces that we know to exist without having much solid form of matter to prove it? Is it so hard for us to believe that God endeavored to create perfect love, the purest form of the greatest existing energy in the universe, by birthing mankind and giving us the option to choose Him over evil if we so wished. We pour on ourselves the nuisances of our life, mistakenly calling them flaws and imperfections instead of understanding that, without darkness in the middle of the garden, we would have no appreciation of the counterbalancing light that surrounds us. Only then, in our conscious will to choose God, is perfect love possible. But still, we fear that the belief in God will steal our lives away, instead of seeing that it is not so different from the simple bond between child and parent. It becomes easier for us to believe that a miraculous explosion out of thin air spawned a perfect universe and life as we know it in all its magnificence than believe that God was the one who caused it.

For some reason, it grieves the scientific-minded to imagine that life is beyond their control, which is why hundreds of years later, we still toil to prove our failed succession of theories. We would rather look at the Bible and see a piece of literature than realize its divinity in recounting all of time from beginning to end. We’d like to bend the truth to remember Jesus as a wine-drinking peacemaker, not the one who prayed forgiveness upon the very ones who scourged him to death and nailed him to a wooden plank, all so that we might have a chance to live with him in perfect love once the rest of the world had finally dried to dust in the end of the ages. Is this why we’re funding space aeronautics to search out alternative planets for a sustainable habitat, because we have denied the truth and sought to continue our sins free of guilt? When the intoxication of cheap pleasures wears off and sobriety takes its hold again, the questions come to mind; for which extravagant part of my life have I traded my everlasting soul? What kind of investor am I? Do I invest in the fruit, or the tree? The momentarily beautiful thing that will perish in time, or that which will last us an eternity?

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