I have a god, the God, that I trust and know and believe. But there is a god whispered in my ear, that I am told to believe. Who is this god? It is ME.
Builders, great architects of their time, the Egyptians built the temples that are still marveled today. The great wonders of the world. But where are these builders? Where are they? Buried within. All the attempts to preserve their bodies and where are they to be found? Buried in the sand.
He stood and proclaimed, “God is dead!” The world was awakened. Sexual revival, nonconformity, and selfishness praised. With pride and happiness they revolted. With openness and desires they grabbed and pulled in others to follow. Where are these revivalists? Where are these that insisted on the death of God? They have aged, they have fallen. You find them in the grave.
People accomplish great things. They help and build and dance. Legs run faster than ever before. Great minds compose and soothe. Marriage and reproduction. Oil struck, land discovered, and new steel construction. Applause is given and the night is over. As the good and the bad all pass away. Nature promises one more day.
The answer is not me. The answer is not you. The world that God created reminds us of that day after day. With this world we see and live and breathe, we are left with two options: There is nothing and we die and are no more. OR There is everything, there is God, and a purpose to live for.