Miracles Are Everywhere If You Just Look At Them Right

What makes a miracle a miracle? Well, by definition it’s something that we cannot explain and ascribe to a supernatural cause. Most often in my little sphere of the planet, that supernatural cause is named God (or something similar), and the unexplained event is usually something totally explainable, just not by the person doing the miracle-witnessing. And honestly, this sort of thing often annoys me.

When people say, “What about the miracle of birth?” for example, I don’t see a miracle. I see an amazing and wonderful process that has evolved from the simple process of cell division to the incredible process of fertilization through gestation to birth that we think of today. It isn’t a miracle, it’s a process. Anything that can be done by a Yorkshire Terrier cannot be a miracle.

And why birth? Why do we ignore other more mundane “miracles” like urination or the development of acne? Yet you never hear someone describe their trip to the piddle seat as a miracle unless they have for a very long time been unable to do so. Like live birth is a massively more complicated version of cell division, so urination is a much more complex version of many elementary waste disposal processes. The fact that various wastes generated throughout our bodies can be transported to a common location for distribution (let alone the fact that we process different types of waste in different fashions) is every bit an amazing process, but pissing gets no love.

Al Stefanelli has a great post up on his blog called Christian Arrogance: Miracles that talks about this, and I agree with his perspective. Maybe if people stopped asking God for the miracle of finding their keys in the sofa, he’d have more time to worry about lesser miracles, like making hungry people have food.

I’m all for not knowing the answer to a question. There are lots of things I haven’t a clue about. But me not being able to imagine an answer is a long way from letting God be the answer. We’ve done that since the dawn of recorded history, ascribing the things we can’t understand like the motion of the sun to magical characters. But that doesn’t make it true, now, does it?

Miracles. They’re all around us, so long as we give up trying to understand.

Jim

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About biguglyjim

Like a caterpillar that spins a coccoon and emerges as a walrus with a mohawk, Big Ugly Jim has become something unexpected. Raised a fine young Christian boy in the city of Calgary, Alberta, Canada, Jim began to question his teachings, first evaluating the wisdom of other religions and eventually realizing that none of them seemed any more accurate than any other, and not a one of them made a lick of sense. Today, Big Ugly Jim is a musician, a Business Analyst with Large Oil Company Whose Name Is Not Important, a music promoter with the Calgary Beer Core, a writer of fiction and non-fiction, a prick, an atheist, a father, an ex-husband, a role model, a horrifying vision in a red speedo (or at least he would be, if ever that happened which IT WOULD NOT), an announcer, and soon to be an officiator of weddings. Also, he's nice and does dishes. Jim continues to live in Calgary, spreading his filthy doctrine of free, critical thinking and appreciation for music.

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