The whole war between the atheist and the theist comes down to this: the atheist believes a 'what' created the universe; the theist believes a 'who' created the universe. ― Criss Jami, Killosophy
For many hours I pondered the subject of my first Blog. How could it be brief, yet memorable and somehow beautiful? I decided to start at the beginning, the genesis, or creation. “Genesis” – the Encarta English Dictionary defines genesis as “beginning”, the time or circumstances of something’s coming into being.
Imagine the pride of a little child coming home from kindergarten cradling her first crude drawing, a piece of art for Mom and Dad to hang on the refrigerator door. The child loves her creation. That same feeling exists in every artist, sculptor, dancer, carpenter, plumber, musician, or author – in every human being. The carpenter molds, shapes, bends, cuts, nails and glues pieces of wood which were once a tree, a beautiful creation, into a desk, cabinet or coffee table: a new beautiful creation. That same tree could be used by a sculptor, a carver to fashion a unique artistic creation. What the carpenter and the sculptor have created, they proudly display and love.
The composer or author can take a piece of blank paper, a creation made from that same tree, to imagine, to fashion, to dream yet another creation. There are only eight notes in music (plus some sharps and flats), and only twenty-six letters in the English alphabet; yet musicians, poets, and authors forever manipulate those notes into billions of amazing melodies, those letters and words into uncountable creations of drama, mystery, comedy and tragedy. They love their creations!
Christmas is around the corner. Everywhere there are pre-Christmas craft sales where artisans, craftspeople, uncommon men and unique women proudly display their wares, their creations. They made them and they love them.
When I created Barking From the Front Porch, I knew she was not perfect. She had some blemishes, some flaws; but she was my creation. I made her and I loved her, even with her imperfections – and I forged ahead. I published.
As I pondered my crude creation, I considered the child’s rudimentary drawing proudly displayed on the refrigerator. I wondered at pride of the sculptor in her carving, the carpenter in his cabinet, the craftspeople in their craft shows, the musicians and authors in their symphonies and anthologies. We all have created something. We all love our creations.
In the same way, it seems to me, our Creator loves us.
Gerald M. Sliva
Still Barking! Blog of