“What’s it all about, Alfie?
Is it just for the moment we live?
What’s it all about when you sort it out, Alfie?
Are we meant to take more than we give?
Or are we meant to be kind?
And if only fools are kind, Alfie,
Then I guess it is wise to be cruel,
What’s it all about…”
I worked forever on that song to play the haunting melody with as much tenderness as possible. I never quite got it, but oh, how I loved that song. It spoke to me… somewhere… deep inside. I wanted the answers to the questions.
Why am I here?
What is the purpose of my life?
I know I’m not here by chance—our world is much too perfect to be coincidence. You’ve heard the illustration: to believe in chance is like believing an explosion in a junkyard could coincidentally bring about a 747. The chances are better for that phenomenon than to believe we crawled out of some “primordial ooze” to eventually become human beings.
Someone, or Something, had to get it all started. Intelligent Design? Observe our world. Note the complexities of each minute life-form and then examine the larger vertebrates. A Creator must have been involved. How did we land on this third rock from the sun in the perfect position for life to be sustained? Only through a Perfectly Intelligent Designer.
My daughter interrupts, “Don’t put that out there. People will cuss you out. Don’t give your real name—they’ll assassinate you!”
Is this so hard to believe? She believes it, yet somehow, with all of her time in cyberspace, she has become afraid of telling others what she believes. Isn’t it possible to have an intelligent blog about real questions of life and not be verbally abused by those who don’t believe the same?
Let’s agree to be kind. Name-calling and abusive language won’t bring about a positive end.
So, what do we call this Designer? I call him Creator—the Name is a description of what He has done.
Now that I have come to the conclusion that there must be a Creator, I ask myself, “Why did he create me!”
“What’s it all about, Alfie?”