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A picture taken on my
smartphone, totally insufficient to portray the experience detailed
below.
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The
Experience
Today
I was affronted with the beauty that surrounded my neighborhood.
Late at night, I was checking some emails and working on theological
studies when my dog came to me, begging to go for a walk. Normally,
she just sits by the door waiting for somebody to notice, but this
night she went right up to me and jumped up to get my attention. So,
grudgingly, I decided to take her for a quick walk. I went down the
street, and approached a house whose yard is in flagrant disregard of
the standards set by the local Homeowners' Association. Calamity
Jane (my dog) stopped to do her business, so I briefly stood and took
in the view before me.
As I
looked, everything became extremely vivid. Every little detail.
This yard, which most people would view as unkempt and a blight, was
overgrown with weeds. But I began to see those weeds and their
immediate interaction in extreme detail. I saw how the “weeds”
were really just the native plants to this area of Colorado, and
while they maintained no symmetry or “cleanness” with which we
judge beauty, they were extremely beautiful. They grew in natural
formations and structures, which while completely functional from a
biological point of view, highlighted the amazing determination of
life. Shrubs, weeds, flowers, and grasses flowed up around the house
they enveloped. The moon shown through clouds with a small, pulsing
star to the left. The light and shadow played around their growth.
Periodic porch and street lights pierced through the darkness of the
night. The car to the right and the house behind were relatively new
and clean, and provided a perfect juxtaposition to the chaos of plant
life in the foreground.
The
Contemplation
Then,
as I took in this view, and my dog pooped, I began to contemplate all
the processes required to make such a scene. This is where the real
revelation took place. I realized, that in order to create a scene
so easily overlooked, many processes were working in perfect harmony.
I thought of the O2-CO2 and Nitrogen cycles working ever-silently to
maintain both the plant growth I observed, and the life of the
observer viewing it. I thought of the perfect harmony between
gravity, electromagnetism, and the strong and weak forces of physics
that even allowed such a universe to exist. Each of the billions of
cells, in each plant, that I beheld worked to create such a scene of
beauty. The forces acting on those cells allowed them to exist. The
moon in its current phase, the atmospheric conditions allowing its
view and the distinctive sparkle of the star next to it, provided
unique plays of light and shadow on the objects beheld. Then, of
course, I thought of the work, design, and craftsmanship that went
into the human elements in front of me. The car, house, sidewalk,
and street all provided a backdrop to the natural phenomena
surrounding them. I heard my breath and smelled the sweet smells of
plants, normally so choked by the exhaust of passing cars during the
day. Crickets and other bugs hummed close-by, as if in a totally
uncoordinated, but deeply complex, symphony meant to catch my wayward
ears.
The
overwhelming awe that this experience was instilling in me was almost
too much to take. Like a giant girl, I wanted to cry. It sounds
pretty stupid as I type this, and the grainy photo I took with my
smart phone only confirms the idiocy of my appreciation. But in that
simple, solid moment, I didn't care that my feelings were crazy and incommunicable. I really felt that all my travels, challenges, and
mind-numbing difficulties over the years were worth the moment in
which I was immersed. And if you know me, and how far I've traveled,
then you know that's saying something.
In
the midst of this experience, I realized two things. First was the
total improbability of the whole thing. If the previously mentioned
chemical-biological cycles (CO2, O2, Nitrogen) were not in place,
even as inefficient as they are, then there would be no life to
observe, and no life to be observed. Additionally, if any of the
four primary forces of physics were not in place, then there would be
no observable universe, let alone the intricate beauty which I took
in. And if human beings had not endeavored to create the city in
which I found myself, there would be no artificial backdrop to
accentuate the natural scenery. Finally,
without the brain in my head, with its complexities and the construct
of my mind, I would be as dumb to the beauty before me as the dog
pooping at my side.
Admittedly,
for a man of faith, most of these processes are well detailed in the
annals of science. But is that such a bad thing? Sure any of these
processes can be explained through logical and causal means. But to
have them all work concurrently seems a little more than mere chance.
If any one of them were missing, then this whole internal discussion
of mine would not have taken place. The entire house-of-cards which
is my reality would completely collapse if not for the balancing act
each component performed. In fact, it may almost seem like
“destiny.” And as much as one might not like to admit it, the
concept of destiny relies on a plan. Who's plan? Certainly not my
own. I only planned to take my dog outside so she could poop.
Something greater seemed to be at work; something far more complex,
and with an eye to the subjective concept we call “beauty.”
Something an observer might call “God” for lack of a better term.
And
that is the second realization. In order for this beautiful scene to
be beheld (and I keep using the term “beauty” at the risk of
over-use, because I simply don't have the expressive range to fully
portray the significance of what I experienced), this God would not
only need to put in place the processes I previously mentioned, in
addition to many, many more which went unobserved (and many
philosophical-theological arguments get way too bogged down in the
individual processes that make up the machinery of existence); but
this God would have to create me to behold it. I am not saying that
God was forced to create me, in order to create beauty. But God
created me so that He would not have to be alone in the appreciation
of the Creation that He made. Think about it. Just in the state of
Colorado alone, there are magnificent mountain peaks with no one on
them to take in the awe with which they've been imbued. In the
middle of nowhere, there are outcrops of windswept rock and snow, far
above the clouds, and there is no human being upon them to see the
sheer, stark, and maybe desolate landscape at their feet.
But
these places exist, whether we view them or not. I guess that means
that if a tree falls in the forest, and there is no-one around, it
does indeed make a sound. But the sound which is missed by ears that
could behold it, is a wonderful treasure lost. That lonely and sad
thought brings me back to God. All of the complex realities of
being, whether we pass them by or not, only take on meaning (concepts
of beauty, wonder, and awe) if there is an observer. As these things
truly have meaning (they are beautiful, wonderful, or awful), then
that must mean there is an observer. Finally, if these things are
observed when no human being is around, then something sentient must
observe them to ascribe them meaning. That Sentient Observer, who is
also their Creator, is then the One whom I proclaim as God.
The
Point of This Post
I
promise that I did not set about writing this little piece with an
apologetic mindset. I would have rather gone to sleep tonight after
my work was done. I simply experienced something I thought was worth
noting, and wrote it down (and its derivative contemplations) because
I wanted to remember it. There have been a few other points in my
life where I ran into similar thoughts and feelings, and passed them
by. I guess I figured that if they were worth noting, someone would
have noted them by now. Maybe someone has, and I'm just not aware of
them. But in the last few years I have done things and been to
places that put my life at risk. Understanding that, I began to
better appreciate the experience of life in which I participated,
even if I didn't fully understand it.
Maybe
the overall context of my risk-taking life has propelled me to this
moment, to write these things down, before my thoughts and feelings
are lost in death, and I am no more able to communicate them. After
all, we all die sometime; and how many lessons could we have learned
from those who once were, but are only dust beneath our feet today?
If my insights are of any worth, they will survive. If people decide
that this is just a bunch of crap, then they won't. And if my
experience is worthless, then it really shouldn't survive to slow
down human progress. But if it is worthwhile, then it would be a
crime for me not to write it down and pass it on.
I guess my hope for sharing these thoughts with you is that
they get you thinking. There are many who argue both from the
perspective of faith and the perspective of atheism, who do not see
the whole picture. I don't claim to see the whole picture myself,
but I've always had a mind for the “macro” over the “micro,”
and I hope that my observations and insights help to inform the
discussion. In any case, I believe the above experience has deepened
my faith in God, even if that experience is pretty mundane by most
standards. In the same way, I hope that this will cause any readers
to look a little more deeply at their surroundings. In that depth, I
pray they find the truth about human existence, nature, and the
existence of God. After all, wasn't there One among us who once said
that if we know the truth, the truth will set us free? Freedom is
something the human heart yearns for, and if that yearning is not in
vain, then freedom is most assuredly found in the truth.
