Looking for Clues

Even those who deny the idea of any kind of god in the traditional sense use strange language to reflect the seeming design and purposefulness of nature, as if "evolution decided" that fish should grow legs and lungs and walk on dry land. Postulating this type of purposefulness comes perilously close to admitting intelligent design, with the implication of the intelligent designer at the drawing board. This prompts the question: if there is a God who started it all in motion, is he still bothering to oil the machinery or has he left the clockworks to wind down on their own as the inevitability of entropy might suggest?

Thoughtful people who are willing to allow for a creator can envision several possible alternatives. Perhaps God is like a cosmic chess-master, manipulating the game pieces for his amusement on a lazy afternoon. Or maybe he is more like a scientist carefully observing us, his lab rats, as he takes detailed notes to avoid next time the horrendous screw-ups that have plagued mankind in this attempt. Or maybe God was feeling playful and lonely so he made us to be his cuddly little puppies to be loved and spoiled in the paradise he created for us to inhabit. How disappointed God must be that we are so ill tempered and barely housebroken! Our guesses and theories seem to fall short of what we might hope for from an all-powerful creator.

There are many clues as to God’s nature written right into the blueprint of the universe. God is like the filmmaker who can’t resist innumerable cameo appearances. He dares us to spot him behind the disguises of his handiwork. For me the most compelling natural evidence of God is the beauty of the unspoiled earth. The fact that we are hardwired to recognize and respond to natural beauty is God’s love letter written to us in sunsets and punctuated with flowers. Who decided that we should see the world in such extraordinary "living" colour? What is the evolutionary purpose of wonder? Has awe ever served to advance the survival of the fittest? These things point to the greatness behind their conception: the majesty of their Creator.

The cyclical nature of the seasons hints at the possibility of immortality. After the cold, wet winter, our hearts are stirred by the arrival of spring snowdrops and crocuses. The annual theme of death and rebirth can lead us to the idea that perhaps death is not the end for us after all. We really do yearn for a meaning beyond the everyday routine of eating and sleeping and fulfilling our social and familial obligations. "There must be more than this" is the primal cry that resonates in each one of us. We get the sense that we too were made for eternity.

The very scale of the universe sends a powerful message. It cannot be measured, and can barely be imagined. We can only pretend to grasp the numbers involved. It is certainly too great for our minds to comprehend. It is as if God is sending a not so subtle warning: don’t ever underestimate me! There is a very real sense in which the whole of God is inscrutable and clothed in mystery. Any attempt to define or understand him will fall short of his greatness. We are incapable of it in our finiteness. There is no place for smugness in the contemplation of the Almighty, anymore than in the contemplation of the cosmos. We are all very, very small in the big picture of the universe.