Dear rebel,
When my daughter (9-year old) came from the catechism class last Sunday, I asked her: why do you say God exist? This was her reply:
“You see those cucumbers? Well, one tiny seed becomes a cucumber, and another tiny seed grows into a tomato, and another becomes a banana. Someone is making that happen. Someone is making the difference. That someone must be God.“
Without using those words, she was talking about the DNA of a seed key to the universe in a speck of an object. What she was saying was that God's intelligence and power are encompassed in a single seed, a specially marked, carefully programmed unit, all the more remarkable because of its infinitesimal size.
Seeds are the transcendent stuff of life; our lives come from seeds. Seeds are what enabled life to be maintained from primitive times unto today: every human being ever born came from a seed; so too, all animal and plant life that sustained us as food, all that humans wore on their backs before synthetics, all aspects of shelter, all original tools of culture such as writing, music and art indeed everything that we depended on to continue the generations.
Given the importance of seed, it is not unfair to say that in our everyday lives we tend to take for granted their power and importance. We discard seeds as garbage without a thought of the mysteries they hold; we pay more for watermelons and lemons engineered to be free of those “pesky“ things.
When you hear a piece of music, one can take as a noise, and another can take it a beautiful piece of art. I see in the universe countless things as blessings from a loving Father rather than mere wonders of nature—especially fruit-bearing trees and flowering plants which are there for a reason.
I remember in my childhood what my parish priest said. During church ceremony, there was power-failure during the church choir was singing during the Christmas night. In pitched dark, song continued. The one on the Harmonium played the song perfectly without seeing the key board. Priest said: You can’t see the harmonium player, but you can listen how nicely he plays. So is with God. You can’t see Him, but you can see His hands playing. Fine-tuning things for us. I think he had a point.