It was a soft summer evening and we were unaware theologians looking for trouble walking the streets and talking about the origination of the universe. Schoolboys wearing Levis and P.F. Flyers. The world hadn’t shrunk yet, it was still unfathomably huge, although everything we wanted was outside the front door, bikes, woods and water, and girls. In the midst of that lush evening we looked into the heavens. There were rockets in space, jets in the blue, and Chinese fire drills in the streets. In the midst of a conversational lull, someone shattered the glass window separating my church friends and my school friends with a question, “Do you believe in God?” It was the first real conversation I had about transcendence, about a Creator, about what happens when we die. A meandering conversation unfiltered by adult oversight, transparent and wide-eyed, started with someone noticing the stars sparkling on the horizon, through the soft evening shadows. We walked along for a while without speaking, looking at this beauty which we couldn’t name, waiting for more signs. We didn’t solve the metaphysical questions of the universe that evening, but it began a conversation that I’ve since carried with me everywhere I go. It’s not an Einsteinian quest for a theory of everything, but rather a question about the intersection of space/time with the dirt we kick up walking around on earth. I’ve trying to name the beauty of that evening ever since. This book is an effort to name those moments , brilliant points of illumination, the caressing beauty of heaven touching earth, and to feel the mysterious wonder of places with more dimensions than I can understand.
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