Lessons From the Child
In the Womb of the Beginning
“In the beginning . . .”
Proof enough that there are many things
I cannot even begin to comprehend
My mind breathes deep and heavy - pants as I wrestle with my thoughts,
trying to convince them to dwell on a “beginning”
Not the first day or first hour
but before even the first second,
that first speckle of existence that was required
before even the first moment of time
As I stretch my imagination back
past the brilliance of the galaxies
and the glories of what we call the heavens
Before creation of the dust
that huddled to form blazing stars
and magnificent planets
Back before “. . . and God said . . .”
I contemplate the very beginning –
try to conceive the moment just before the very first second
and how there had to be something
just before that
and before . . .
My mind enters a flawed loop of reasoning
and doubting
and questioning . . .
and finally fails me,
crashing repeatedly on docks of hopeless understanding
in the absence of logic’s anchor
I think how we are capable of flight into air and space
and cure diseases which we’ve never seen;
how we create those things that mimic and taunt true creation of life
but yet are still in the womb of understanding
Infants before God,
ignorant to the threads of existence,
baffled by substance as plentiful and obvious
to our own existence as time itself
Alpha and Omega, the Beginning and the End
As faith wrestles down my intellect,
my mind has no choice but to rest in knowing
that time must be His creation – flowing within, out of Him
Time - a condition of our existence
to which He does not answer because
the servant does not command the Master
Nor does the canvas command the painter
As my child had no knowledge of the world into which he was born,
still have I the same understanding at my current age
“In the beginning . . .” keeps me grounded
when I contemplate the wonders of His words
When my wisdom and knowledge question the possibilities
and likelihood of His promises
When my wisdom-less thoughts whisper to me
that His words cannot be true
at least not in this day, not in this time,
I only have to contemplate “the beginning”
and remember how the thought of it eludes me
My rationale obviously has no merit;
And so all things, all His promises, again become possible
As I accept that I cannot comprehend
how anything I hold to be true came to be
As I accept that I cannot convince my mind
to hold tight to a thought of an existence before time
I am faced with both a terrible but calming and wonderful truth
That in my current state
That in my limited understanding
That in all that I will become or understand
before my time expires
All I am or can ever hope to be
is an infant to my Father,
awakening, and barely . . . self-aware,
in the womb of his creations
Proof enough that there are many things
I cannot even begin to comprehend
My mind breathes deep and heavy - pants as I wrestle with my thoughts,
trying to convince them to dwell on a “beginning”
Not the first day or first hour
but before even the first second,
that first speckle of existence that was required
before even the first moment of time
As I stretch my imagination back
past the brilliance of the galaxies
and the glories of what we call the heavens
Before creation of the dust
that huddled to form blazing stars
and magnificent planets
Back before “. . . and God said . . .”
I contemplate the very beginning –
try to conceive the moment just before the very first second
and how there had to be something
just before that
and before . . .
My mind enters a flawed loop of reasoning
and doubting
and questioning . . .
and finally fails me,
crashing repeatedly on docks of hopeless understanding
in the absence of logic’s anchor
I think how we are capable of flight into air and space
and cure diseases which we’ve never seen;
how we create those things that mimic and taunt true creation of life
but yet are still in the womb of understanding
Infants before God,
ignorant to the threads of existence,
baffled by substance as plentiful and obvious
to our own existence as time itself
Alpha and Omega, the Beginning and the End
As faith wrestles down my intellect,
my mind has no choice but to rest in knowing
that time must be His creation – flowing within, out of Him
Time - a condition of our existence
to which He does not answer because
the servant does not command the Master
Nor does the canvas command the painter
As my child had no knowledge of the world into which he was born,
still have I the same understanding at my current age
“In the beginning . . .” keeps me grounded
when I contemplate the wonders of His words
When my wisdom and knowledge question the possibilities
and likelihood of His promises
When my wisdom-less thoughts whisper to me
that His words cannot be true
at least not in this day, not in this time,
I only have to contemplate “the beginning”
and remember how the thought of it eludes me
My rationale obviously has no merit;
And so all things, all His promises, again become possible
As I accept that I cannot comprehend
how anything I hold to be true came to be
As I accept that I cannot convince my mind
to hold tight to a thought of an existence before time
I am faced with both a terrible but calming and wonderful truth
That in my current state
That in my limited understanding
That in all that I will become or understand
before my time expires
All I am or can ever hope to be
is an infant to my Father,
awakening, and barely . . . self-aware,
in the womb of his creations
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