Hey God, Have You Run Outta Miracles

ee here, Big Guy, I don’t want to complain or anything disrespectful, but lately it looks as if you’ve run out of miracles. Like where’s those flashy Red Sea partings and Lazarus raisings? I mean, those were pretty neat, and they made it pretty easy to believe in you.

But lately, say in the last few hundred years, you’re down to a lot of little stuff. Like Mary faces on subway walls or your face in the form of someone’s potato chip. Cute but this is hardly Charelton Heston material. So I, and billions of my fellow wanderers, are forced to say it like it is: Who and where are you…? The 21st C is a helleva time for you to go into hiding!

First, lets get something straight between us. I am not one of today’s bleating cynics who call themselves atheists. To me, that can often be a pretentious label for someone who has neither the intellect nor especially the will to accept the cosmic reality that all this infinitely complex and orchestrated matter could not simply have just self-started sometime, somewhere, somehow. I mean, if that’s the best our astrophysicists got, they got bupkis!

But if they can’t explain you any better than that, why aren’t you doing a better job than you are? Like how about a few spectacles…some talking clouds…hosts of angels …you know, like you used to! I gotta say it, God, in these sophisticated days of computers and algorithms and Donald Trump, you’re becoming pretty dispensable. Especially among the young and cool Millennial Generation. You may have invented Time, but among these skeptics, Time is not on your side.

OK, I don’t want to push this. Only trying to urge you from the sidelines to get back in the game. Speaking for myself, I miss you out there at quarterback running things. On the other hand, I may have to be ready for you to come out this quarter looking different than most of us remember. Maybe you’re not the Biblical Jesus of Easter Sunday, and just maybe you’re not even Christian.

Come to think of it, just maybe you’re not even male. or human. or visible. What about some kind of celestial Mother Teresa…or interplanetary computer….or invisible whiff of an eternal banana cream pie? Who knows!

All I do know is this. You ain’t nothing. You’re something. It’s simply that little minds like mine have yet to find a way to wrap around a mind so incalculably vast as yours. But I’m trying.

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