"I believe in Christianity as I
believe that the sun has risen: not only because I see it, but because by it I
see everything else." — C.S.
Lewis
I would have a hard time being an
atheist.
Not because I have all the answers.
Not because I have some extraordinary faith. And certainly not because I can
win every religious debate.
I would have a hard time being an
atheist because every time I look around, I keep stumbling across little
reminders that God is real.
People have argued about religion
since the beginning of time. Entire wars have been fought over who is right and
who is wrong. Churches have inspired millions, but sometimes they have also
discouraged people when imperfect humans tried to play the role of God.
I've never been comfortable with
faith that depends more on man-made rules than on a relationship with the
Creator. Truth is scrambled by cults and used as tools of control all
while labeling their congregation as God’s children.
For me, all it takes is sitting on a
country porch on a summer evening.
As darkness settles in, tiny
fireflies begin lighting up the hillside. The stars slowly emerge, one by one,
until the entire sky sparkles overhead.
Maybe there is a scientific
explanation for every bit of it.
Maybe.
But why do those moments stir
something deep inside me?
Why do I feel like they were created
to be enjoyed?
What practical purpose does a
firefly really serve other than making a summer night feel magical?
Now before anyone writes to me, yes,
I realize that if God created fireflies, He apparently also created mosquitoes.
That part of the plan remains under
investigation.
As Scripture reminds us, it rains on
the just and the unjust. And we all know mosquitoes and lovebugs are of the
devil.
It is my choice to believe there is
a Creator behind it all. I abhor debate. Just in case you feel the need to
prove me wrong.
I don't need every mystery solved.
Faith, by its very nature, involves trust.
When life becomes overwhelming and
problems seem bigger than we are, it is often the smallest things that remind
us to slow down and take a breath.
A sunset.
A child's laugh.
An old song.
A porch swing.
A field full of fireflies.
Those little moments have a way of
pointing us toward something bigger than ourselves.
Music speaks to my soul.
Why were we given the ability to
create beauty?
Why did God make Southern cooks?
Will Heaven serve homemade banana
pudding?
And what about romantic love?
There is something beautiful about
seeing an elderly couple holding hands after decades together. Somewhere along
the journey they learned what many people miss—that it is the small things that
keep love alive.
A thank-you.
A thoughtful gesture.
A simple touch.
A little kindness offered when it
isn't expected.
A dishwasher full of clean dishes
that I did not fill!
Children understand this too. A hug
for no reason. A scribbled note. A refrigerator drawing that somehow becomes
priceless artwork.
The older I get, the more convinced
I become that life is built on small things.
Small acts of kindness.
Small moments of joy.
Small reminders of hope.
Small details in creation that
whisper, "You are here on purpose."
So, what do we do with those
discoveries?
Do we rush past them and take them
for granted?
Or do we pause long enough to
recognize the One who may be trying to get our attention?
If you prefer the no-God version of
life, then enjoy the fireflies, shooting stars, music, romance, and banana
pudding right along with the rest of us.
As for me, I'm perfectly content in
my so-called delusion.
Life is a gift. Blessings are
treasures.
Hope is priceless.
And while I place my trust in things
unseen, the truth is that throughout my life I have seen a very large,
powerful, all-consuming God everywhere.
Especially in the small things.
myhometowncolumn/tracy williams
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