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SIGNS

        SIGNS


I have always seen the signs of God.  Everywhere.  You can easily find signs of The Divine.  But I have searched for God.  I have explored every nook and cranny of mind and thought that I could squeeze into.  I have questioned, studied, observed; following the trails of signs.  The signs marking the paths to hoped for destinations.  Billboards marking the ends of the highways, culminating in the worlds great religions.  Surely they could introduce me to the one God who was leaving all these signs.  I followed each down the streets of its ideologies, but their street signs were made of paper.  The signs that filled my heart were not there.  Their streets led to distorted mazes.  Each religious maze, with its own crumbling, segregated neighborhoods of the sick and dying.  Dead ends.  Their Gods.

Natural signs abound.  I prayed for an explanation.  Who put up these signs?  These glorious signs of The Divine?  Please let me know.  I got no answer.

Then it hit me.  Just because man made signs are made by men, why does that mean that signs of The Divine were left behind by a God?  I can read the signs right in front of me.  They were always there.  Even in the fine print, I see nothing about a God.  What am I really searching for?  Why do I need a cause for what I know was always here?  Why would I care about a God, made in the image of man?