To The Blue Sky. . .
12.21.2005
Today, I was out driving when this woman cut me off. People do this thing in Milwaukee where they pull up next to you at the stop light like they're going to turn right, but instead they zoom out and cut you off when the light turns green. So I honked at this lady and whatever. But she kept driving really crazy, zooming in and out, back and forth between the lanes. And I thought to myself that she deserved to get into an accident. Horrible, I know. But I stopped right away, thinking that that wasn't the attitude Christ would have. And I told myself, "He loves that woman. He loved her enough to die for her."
And then it happened.
I just realized how absurd the idea of a God, and Jesus really is. It's utterly ridiculous. Have you ever considered it? I understand now why so many people don't even take the time to consider whether or not there is a God. Because the whole idea must seem crazy. If you look around at our world sometimes, you must feel like the only hope you can take from it is that everything was an accident. Because what kind of God would create a place, and people, like this?
And it's so sad that people can't see the whole picture. That they can't seem to find the whole truth. They see the world they live in, and I think they're scared to look any deeper than the surface, because they're scared of what they might find. I understand the feeling. But really, if you look at the evidence, the only absurd thought is that there is no God. And the hope we can take is from the fact that he didn't create it to be this way! He created so much more than what we see around us! So much better! But we've gotten ourselves into this sad state.
It's still a mystery as to why he decided to save us from ourselves. I know that God loves us, but that doesn't seem an adequate explanation. But it's the thing of beauty that makes it all seem plausible. Possible. Certain even.
That the word became flesh and dwelt among us. That the lamb was slain. That because of his love, we might be washed in his blood. . .