The probe has landed on Titan, beamed its data to Cassini, its mother space probe, which has in turn transmitted to Earth. A four hour journey for the transmission. If Christ obeys the rules he established, no wonder it has taken thousands of years for him to journey across space and time and return to us — though I don’t think that is the case (wormhole anyone? warp speed? rip in the space time continuum?)
As time goes on, logic, like sin, creeps in and stirs the mind. We are a billionth the size of a period on a piece of paper in the grand scheme of things. There are billions of miles of space, which continues to expand. Planets orbit other planets orbiting other suns. Logic tells me that we are not alone. Out there elsewhere other creatures breath and stir and wonder if they are alone.
Increasingly, I am less convinced and more convinced that we are, in fact alone. We drift in a cold black sea. It is easier to believe that we are not alone, but then that challenges the belief in our special place — a belief so often challenged successfully. After all, the sun does not revolve around us.
It is difficult to believe that we are alone in the vast wilderness of space, not because it is not possible, but because it hurts my head to think that the Divine would have created only us and I cannot phathom why.
The mystery of God is not, perhaps, his existence, but rather that in all the infinite expanse of space and time he chose seven days to create it all and us — wretched little creatures of great ungratefulness in the grand scheme of things.