universe
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“When I have a terrible need of—shall I say the word—religion—then I go out and paint the stars.” —Vincent Van Gogh In a turbulent world, a turbulent man had it right. Before he painted, Vincent was a failed preacher who remembered that the heavens still declared the glory of God. In Alex Haley’s novel Roots,
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Hyperbole? Sure. Poetry? Of course. Understated? Infinitely. Could we with ink the oceans fill, And were the skies of parchment made, Were every stalk on earth a quill, And every man a scribe by trade, To write the love of God above Would drain the oceans dry; Nor could the scroll contain the whole, Though
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I love the fact that God didn’t ask us to figure Him out. We can’t. Even living eternally with Him, I doubt we ever could—and we might not even want to try. As analytical Westerners, we naturally task ourselves to explain things like how God came to be, how He made the universe, and what the end of the world will
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Where did everything come from? Such a big question requires a bigger answer (though not always a popular one). Of course I’m speaking of God. Why are we here? There are many ways people might answer this question, but the bottom line is perhaps the biggest one of all—and it even reveals why we have a universe… “He works on us in all sorts of
Jay McCarl 