This week, while on a long ride home from a speaking engagement, a friend asked me: How do you know that there is a God, and how do you know that he loves you? I took a moment to let his question sink in and to gather my thoughts. Just exactly how do I know that there is a God? How do I know that I am loved? The headlights from the oncoming cars flashed by as I tried to put into words something that I truly only know in my bones.
“I don’t make the earth revolve around the sun, I didn’t make the many beautiful places on this planet, and I sure as hell didn’t make people choose to be kind when there’s nothing in it for them. So there is something out there far bigger than me, far better than me. I choose to call that something God. And there have been so many times in my life when things were awful and painful, or when I was feeling very small and mean, and something or someone came along and demonstrated some kindness, some decency. I see those as blessings, as Grace, as the love of God. I don’t know if this is any help to you, I just feel like an ant or perhaps a microscopic organism trying to describe an elephant.”
The words I came up with are neither great nor beautiful. They don’t convey anything near the depth or breadth of my knowing, but they were honest, ernest, and what came to me. My friend smiled and thanked me. He said it helped.
I felt blessed.