Dealing.

H,

The very idea of God or gods is an issue of much modern debate. They are all sorts of strong arguments for and against the idea of being, creation and evolution. Some claim science can prove God and others, a vast vocal majority it seems, claim science can make it work the other way.

I have never been interested in either, to be honest. It seems to me beyond science to explain all of nature to the point of eliminating wholly the idea of a unifying God. Conversely, the idea of God and what man thinks He is has seen the use of brutality to pursue His supposed aims through history and across religions.

I did not start believing in God and for a very long time religion did not speak to me on any level. I did not consider this odd because I was not rebelling against it. I had enough of it shoved down to the core of me that I was going to do the dance and collect the other prize that was not hell at the end of the day. There was fear but there was no love or real belief. A great what if, as if that could save, was put out to me: what if you are wrong about nothing being eternal? Is it not better to live a ‘good’ life and then die with a sense of purpose? That always seemed like a stupid response to me. Faith seemed intense and immersive. Passive worship was not going to work and I knew it.

Yet there was something inside. A question about the source of everything and the very meaning of life. I became a seeker of rules to live by. I consumed bite sized ideas of Aristotle, Voltaire, Wilde, Hemingway and a host of others about the sort of person I ought to be. I thought of being one thing and then another. I could not keep up with any of my personas because they did not fit into the large hole inquiry was digging in me. I knew I had a soul, there was something ethereal and immaterial about life, but I did not know where it fit.

When I finally arrived at the idea of God I had been speaking to Him all along. I had been having these conversations into thin air but there is no real vacuum in the time and space of which I speak. I was always hitting up against something. It was a soft landing because I had been descending all long. I was at ground level at the providential time and fell into the light with all my being ready to be explained.

Now, this should not conclude with the impression that I have found all the answers. The curious thing about science and faith is that they both need that sense of humility when looking up. We do not have all the answers. We are a family in search of what truth is. We have to be honest seekers or we are false prophets of both beliefs.

I still haven’t found what I am looking for, the crooner said. I heard it in the eighties or earlier nineties. I could not have been up to ten years old but it stuck in my mind long enough to come back when I had big questions. It is the soundtrack of my pilgrim’s progress and process. I sing it all the time from the deep reaches of my soul. I know the answer to the big question of my soul: there is a God at the centre of the universe. I once wished it wasn’t so. I wanted it all to be absurd and arbitrary. I wanted to write my own book. That did not work out. But I still haven’t found what I am looking for. I am still confounded by tragedy and holes in times and space and the very idea of love. I still haven’t found what I’m looking for. But I am still looking. Up.