Of all elements of creation, man was the most intricate and complicated being that our Creator created. Mountains bedazzle the senses, oceans confound the learned, and the galaxies contain untold worlds that will never be discovered. If the Creator made galaxies so distant it must require light years to measure their distance, how much more so do you believe we are loved by the Creator? Attributes of the Creator are seen all over the world, and yet we are no more closer to discovering just who or what the great Creator is. For all of our study and ideas about the Creator, we have come no closer to discovering the top floor of a building that has no end.
Infinitude. The concept of it begins to throw my mind into a tailspin; discovering everything I thought I knew does nothing to advance me towards a goal that has no final destination. Immutable. Eternal. Omnipotent. Sitting here, thinking of infinitude, my heart can only cry towards gratitude that such a Creator would even consider to make finite beings. The child creators small clay figures so that he/she may control them. A far cry from creating weak beings purely out of love.
As I think of all the recent situations that have gotten in the way of my pursuit of the Creator, I am reminded that Love is a choice one cannot be forced into giving. The Nazi guards could dehumanize and deconstruct their victims, but even the most fearful machine gun cannot make an individual love on command.
What love is this, that we would even be considered to be recipients of such a gift? Clearly, we have done nothing to deserve the right (I shudder to think of the idea) to have been created. What are we to do with this magnificent gift?
Every day, I continue to realize the opportunity that we have been given on this earth. It blows me away.
A few days ago, I was sitting and talking with a good friend of mine. After recounting the various health issues within our family, I started wondering what type of illness it will be that ends my life, all natural causes being considered. Were I to pass in similar fashion as my father, I don’t know how I would handle such a downward spiral of health.
It’s something I avoid talking about, his death. There are frequent situations where he will come to mind, and I’ll pull our my phone to give him a call. He’s not here. Often, I put the phone back in my pocket and think of happier days spent with him. He was not perfect but he was my dad.