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Tuesday, July 18, 2006


Last night, after half a bottle of wine, I had an epiphany. So enthralled was I by my genuis, that I got out of bed to jot down notes so that I wouldn't forget my thoughts overnight.

Those notes are on my bathroom counter. I don't need them. I didn't forget.

For years I have longed and yearned for tangible proof of the existence of the God I have long sought after. He, in His infinite mercy and omnipotence, has seen fit not to grant me my wish in the way I expected.

But after a few glasses last night, my guard was down. It was late. My mind started to wander.

A commonly curious question arose: what most separates humans from other creatures?

Language? No. Lots of other creatures communicate with each other.

Tools? No. Lots of other creatures use tools.

Our houses, cars, and computers? No. Other creatures build dwellings. Cars and computers are just tools.

So, what then? What makes us so unique and different from other creatures?


Yes, books.

The devouring of language; the subsequent symbolizing of it; the records of experience passed down over many generations. The wall paintings, the scrolls, the papyrus, the tablets, the manuscripts, the books, etc., etc., etc.

Name me one other creature on this planet that has books or their equivalent?

Because of books, we have a sense of history is being linear rather than cyclical. Because of books, we can emotionally connect with the experiences of those who lived millenia before us. Because of books, if we choose, we can see ourselves with painful clarity.

Something compels us to tell stories and pour out ourselves. Something compels us to read.
Books are my life. They are what I am unwaveringly passionate about; what I breathe and eat and never tire of.

Books are made of pages, paragraphs, sentences, and words.

The Word was first,
the Word present to God,
God present to the Word.
The Word was God,
in readiness for God from day one.

Don't you see it? Isn't it perfectly clear?

I love books because they are proof of God; the God I love.
And this explains another ultimate question: why I love books so much.

"...the Word was God."


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