I’m alive. I can breathe. See. Smell, taste. My heart beats, blood flows, my lungs oxygenate, my tissues work, my organs operate, my cells carry on with their day to day duties diligently. I live in house. The walls are made from various compounds and materials, yet the framework built from wood is assembled so as to support the roof above me, fighting a war against a force called gravity, which draws all things on this, my planet, towards its center.
An unmeasurable distance away there is an eternal explosion warming my planet, the light of which (the explosion, that is) is reflected by an enormous dirt clod spinning around, casting the world about me in a blueish glow. The planet I live on is tilted at precisely the needed angle to support life.
I hear crickets chirping in the night, their bodies too, are perfectly formed and operating, as is that of the creature which subsist on them, and the plants they themselves eat. Oceans, sky, forest and field! I have family! Wonderful mechanisms with a billion times more wondrous souls! They think and feel and know and love, and are entirely precious! And in this planet I’m living on there are uncounted thousands more just like them, entirely unique, wholly precious!
Every day is a miracle! Every person, every blade of grass, every speck of dirt screams praises to the Most High!
I have looked upon the flesh of God! I have seen Him exalted! And I have held Him in the filth of my human hands…
Ooh! Catholic position! Whoops! Can’t help there, amigo, but, hey, I’m not dead yet, right? So, God clearly must have some use for me, eh? So then, I think you might be able to reverse that and say, “Well, the Boss hasn’t talked to me lately, I guess I must be doing alright!”
And then, I think it’s important to remember that God wasn’t heard in the fire or the earthquake, but in the still, quiet wind. Even still! What sort of feat of faith is there who have seen the face of God? I mean, there came a point where even the Disciples had to face the facts of things!