To grasp love, I must grasp the fact that it is a creation of God and therefore it is forever beyond me. But the very fact that it is forever beyond me is the very thing that prompts me to forever pursue it.

Preemptively interwoven into this ingeniously crafted existence is everything that we need to be everything that we are.

Are we so patently ignorant as to believe that today just happened? For the incalculable number of complexities inherent in a single day are leagues beyond the reach of mere happenstance, and the threads that seamlessly tie these complexities together are beyond coincidence of the most fantastic sort.

I simply can’t look into the heavens on a crisp starry night and somehow bring myself to believe that the gaping expanse that engulfs the whole of me is the product of chance happenstance. And neither can I believe that the gaping expanse that rests within me is anything less.

If I am unable to believe that I am more than happenstance, I have chosen to behave as a person of accident verses standing as a man of purpose.

Genius is creating something and constructing within it the ability to build on itself in order to become what it was created to be, and as a result of that very process, never find an end to the creating.

I would be dreadfully remiss not to think that God would painstakingly craft something an intimately ingenious and inexplicably intricate as my life, and that by virtue of such sheer brilliance I should not examine it with the greatest precision and unleash it with the fullest abandon.

Worlds of my own creation are erected with walls that are within but a few scant paces of each other. The world that God creates for me has no idea what walls are.

You are not a sordid compilation of the messages of some troubled past. Rather, you are the ingeniously crafted creation of an infinite God.