I heard a story years ago that merits repeating here. (These are my words, not the original.)
A three-year-old asked to be left alone with her newborn sibling. The parents, obviously, denied her request, but when she kept persisting, the grandparents suggested that the baby be put in the crib, and a monitor in the room turned on so that they could listen in. The adults were curious. As soon as the little girl thought they were alone, she whispered to her new brother: “Quick, tell me about God. I’m forgetting already.”
Imagine if we could all remember where we came from. If God was not a mystery, but one evolving, omniscient force to which we all were consciously attached. Imagine how that would change the world.
Yet, we do not have such memory. We have opinions, speculation: faith. Some would kill for their convictions, even without proof. God is a super-charged, elusive concept that can empower, or stifle life, depending on human interpretation.
I don’t know anymore than the next person about the nature of our origins, but I do know this: looking into the eyes of my newborn granddaughter there is a presence of something beyond the innocence of her being. Watching her approach life with such enthusiasm and hunger, makes me believe that there is an innate wisdom there that surpasses our mundane knowing.
I have more questions than I’ll ever have answers.