Friends, it is spring. It's confirmed by the daffodils shyly blooming in the dark, earthen squares outside of my dorm room; in the buds on the trees, painfully pushing their way out of hibernation; yes, even in the wind and rain that ruffles my calm and makes me curse the forgetful streak that made me leave my umbrella at home. So, in the spirit of spring, here's a cliché: in case you haven't heard, spring brings new life. I know, shocking, but, I promise, this isn't the main point of my post, only a seasonal relation to it.
The main point is this: on the way home from Boston University's Fitness and Recreation Center this morning, as I propelled my body through the blustering wind, wishing I was somehow more aerodynamic, I came upon a realization. It's amazing that I'm alive. My body, our bodies as human beings, are so very fragile. A car, a bullet, a blood clot, a microscopic organism, can all upset the delicate machine that is our bodies and bring about our end. Given that all of these things are, last time I checked, abundant in our world, my life is a miraculous occurrence. Furthermore, miracle of miracles, I am not only alive, but relatively healthy, able-bodied, alert, enthusiastic, and very happy.
Several of my atheist friends have told me that the only time in which they consider the possibility that God exists, is when they think of the detail and precision necessary for sustaining life. So much of nature is stunning, not just in its beauty, but in how systematically balanced it is. One atom, one drop of water, one chromosome misplaced, and we are no longer alive, we are no longer whole. How could something so astoundingly complex be the result of random explosions of energy. Doesn't this level of synchronous living point to a designer that is omnipotent, omniscient, kind, and awesome?
Therefore, since spring is here, and since new life bursts into this world all around us, here I offer one reason out of a million for why I believe in God. I believe in God because I am alive. Being alive is beautiful.