I sit here at a desk right off the kitchen. It is late night, or rather early morning; I am tired and my mind draws blank. As has had happened at other times before I am ready to write about not being able to write.
Now I call upon a force greater than myself to accomplish what I am utterly unable to accomplish. I say ‘God help me to do what I am incapable of doing by myself.’ I ask that God make me a channel of the Word, to be as a pen in the hand of an Author Omniscient, Who knows the text entirely at once, the beginning and the end simultaneously. I bid to be endowed with a flow of right language so unencumbered that it strikes even the skeptical reader as inspired.
I trust a Providence Who rules the workings of a universe of gigantic proportion, folded unto itself, warped and strung, within a matter both visible and black, and animated by a black energy, which, so far at least, proves mysterious, impenetrable to human ken. It is a universe on the one hand, long thought more or less intelligible in terms of an equation involving space and time, and a force called gravity. On the other hand, our comfortable understanding of the universe through the work of Newton and Einstein at this juncture has been profoundly shaken. It seems we know nothing of the mystery, the immensity, the utter vastness around us remains inexplicable. Notions of a plurality of worlds, long posited, has now been extended to plurality of universes; our notion of four dimensions has been now replaced with ideas of multiple, umpteen dimensions. Now, too, astronomers feel that our universe is expanding according to rules of propulsion not yet faintly understood. Even the best minds now seem baffled. Our idea of the universe has very little consensus in science, in the scientific community today.
Here I postulate, actually I am not set in these beliefs, not in the least. Please understand, what is at work here is a will to believe, not a particular set of beliefs, or a doctrine to which I insist we, or I wholly subscribe. On any given day of the week I may choose unbelief, but the agnostic creed I find difficult to sustain. Allow me to continue in the supposition that the universe itself, at least as we bear witness to it, bespeaks at least hint of a ultimate creator.
But make no mistake I insist on no compliance rather an open mind enough to entertain this argument.
Should we allow some Intelligence to be Creator of the universe, this self-same Sovereign, also, reigns over the little things, reckoning the countless phenomena which mark each mortal’s progress through individual life. I feel it requires no large stretch of imagination to say, if Intelligence created the vastness, the inexplicably large universe, it would be no difficult task for this same Creator to mange and control even the everyday events in life, though His ways and the outcome He determines might be forever beyond human understanding.
Today we may easily forget that our forebears believed in a God who knows the number of hair upon our heads. Because of the great progress in the science of astronomy our attention has become increasingly diverted. Modern telescopes reveal the sheer immensity of space-time, the monstrous architecture cradling the lights of heaven, the puzzle of possible universes folded unto them selves existing in other dimensionality. We may fail to remember that the God of our fathers not only authored Genesis but also knew the precise moment a sparrow’s fall. It is to this God both grand and particular to whom I pray. In fulfillment of His will -- that His will be done, that I convert the blank page before me to chronicle American life and thought during this last half century, and this first part of the twenty-first century.
And tonight, though both mind and body be tired and worn, I am vehicle to the good story, reveling in triumph, happiness and energy, now sufficient to recognize and carry out a will beyond selfish aim. Volition has new power, taking it immeasurably pass purely human aspiration and design to wildly abundant, unexpected narrative whose insight and denouement bespeaks the divine. The dark, empty late night now gives way to bright light and fertility. All weakness turns to strength. The despair gnawing at the wheel of our diurnal rounds vanishes. Freely and utterly without discernible merit a fantastic, spiritual grace allows glory, a brand new sense of mission out of those things and events which remain behind.