A life of mystery

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Photo taken in Langkawi, Malaysia.

There was once a time when a funnel cloud emerged from the darkest of skies and would have appeared to make a conscious attempt to chase doomed onlookers. A time when a violent earthquake could have only occurred due to a deity powerful enough to shake it. To have such little knowledge of nature must have resulted in terrifying assumptions of our world.

I have always remembered a poem I read in the local newspaper, mailed in by a reader. I was still in school, the poem very fitting as this was when I really started to think of who I was and where I came from. I can only remember the last line, a lady telling her story of how she preferred to remain religious despite doubts. It ended with the line:

‘If I am wrong I will never know, if I am right I told you so.’

I always thought it was a very depressing outlook. To spend a life guessing there is an afterlife only to boast that there is one when our time is up. Not that we often have a say in when that will be. To be religious is to be content with the mystery intentionally surrounding us, to be happy that the light switch has been kept out of our reach. There was a time when we had no choice but to accept our lack of knowledge as part of God’s plan, now we know we don’t know, but one day we will.

That is of course, if we choose not to accept a God that keeps our metaphorical highway without streetlights and continue to blame ourselves when there are collisions along he way. If anyone keeps you from knowledge that would benefit you, human or greater, the last thing you should do is give them respect.

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