Cé hé mise dhuit, a Dhia?

"When I consider Thy heavens, the work of Thy fingers, the moon and the stars, which Thou hast ordained; What is man, that Thou art mindful of him? and the son of man, that thou visitest him?" - Psalm 8:3-4

In ancient times, time beyond memory, the world was created by a spoken word. That world we now enjoy and have yet to fully discover and discern. Our eyes are not sharp enough to perceive it all; our minds too simple to comprehend it all; our arms to short to grasp it all. We speak of the infinite and know this is seemingly the measurement of the heavens, but do not understand the words we speak. Our universe has a fractal symmetry of a scale barely conceivable; from the sub-microscopic to the galaxies large beyond understanding. These ideas are glimpsed and then instantly lost, like a near-blind man, squinting with effort at the world around him; all is a large blur with small bits coming into focus for the shortest of seconds, like subliminal flashes.

Yet, in all our simpleness, here we stand, the subject of God's love and attention. The entire universe with all its vastness stands to glorify its creator, but somehow God would choose to focus His attention on us. He would choose to love us enough to visit us... and die for us. That thought, beyond all others, seems the hardest to grasp. But we accept it with gladness and gratitude, thankfulness and joy, wonder and quiet reverence.

"If words could fall like rain... and if I had a thousand years, I would still run out of time [to] thank you for the life, thank you for the truth, thank you for the way." - Geoff Moore