Is GOD a creation of our insecurity as EINSTEIN says

June 21, 1982 was a momentous day in my life. I was madly in love, or maybe it was lust, with a young girl from my English class. As the school year was rapidly winding down, I wanted desperately to find out where she lived, so I might have a chance to keep in touch with her over the summer. On the morning of June 21, I woke up before the Sun. I had discovered that the object of my affection lived on a street in town named Mary Potter Lane. Then I consulted with the handy dandy map of my hometown to see where this Mary Potter Lane was, and learned that it was out "in the boonies" on the outskirts of town. I figured it would take about an hour to ride my bike there, and since I had gotten up so early, I figured I had plenty of time.

By the time I got to Mary Potter Lane, the Sun was just barely starting to peak over the horizon. Since it was so early, I couldn't exactly just walk up to her front door and say hi, so I had to content myself with having discovered where this girl lived, and I began to ride my bike home.

Once off of Mary Potter Lane, I went onto Green River Road, then about a half-mile later I turned onto Colrain Road. It was shortly after I entered Colrain Road that I started paying more attention to the beautiful houses in the neighborhood than the rough condition of the road. Foolishly, I took my hands off the handlebars of my brand new 10 speed bike and cupped them behind my head (which was not protected with a helmet.)

I'll never forget the sensation of falling off my bike, after hitting that enormous pothole, which filled about half the street. The last thing I remember was seeing the ground coming closer and closer to my face, as I went over the handlebars.

By the time I came to, the sun was significantly higher in the sky. I must have been unconscious for at least an hour, blood gushing from my right ear, and a seering pain in my head, which turned out to be fractured. Only God knows how many cars must have passed by me after I fell off my bike. I know I saw two go by as I lay sprawled on the ground, once I regained consciousness.

It was the third vehicle, however, that actually stopped. I don't remember much about it, but I do have a recollection that it was a red and gray striped pickup truck. I have a recollection that it was a man who emerged from the truck, helped me into the vehicle, then deposited my bike in the back.

Now, please know that at this time, I was 14 years old. I didn't have a driver's license, and the odds are that I didn't even have a wallet on me at that point. Shortly after I got into the truck, I started falling asleep again. I do not recall telling this man where I lived, though it is possible that I did and simply lost that detail because of the head injury. Regardless, he brought me home, left my bike outside, and then left (probably, I would guess, because he didn't want my folks to think that he had somehow been responsible for my injuries).

Fortunately for me, the hospital was right up the street from our home, and my parents got me there pronto. From there, I only have vague recollections of doctors performing various tests, while I slipped in and out of consciousness. I was admitted into the Intensive Care Unit. For the next few days, I was comatose, and I have to imagine that the prognosis was not good. I do have a vague recollection of seeing a priest there, which means that my folks must have had the Sacrament of the Sick performed.

The third day I was in the hospital, I took a turn for the worse. This is where I believe my life took a sudden, dramatic turn that will forever transform me.

I don't recall the moment that my soul left my body. All I remember now, some 27 years later, is feeling completely at peace. It was dark, but yet I could see what appeared to be a river flowing to my right. On the other side of the river, I saw little lights that remind me now of a city seen from afar. On my side of the river, there were no lights, but I did see a path winding away. I came to a bridge, and was given to know that if I passed over this bridge, there would be no turning back. I was OK with this, and so I proceeded to walk toward the bridge.

Only at that point did I receive the shock of a lifetime. I heard a voice coming from the other side of the bridge. The voice said that this was not my time, because I still had work to do. At that moment, there was a head-splitting cry I heard. It was the cry of a young baby. The crying of that baby jarred me to consciousness, much to the elation of my family, which was gathered around my bed.

After this near death experience, I healed rapidly. Within a few days, I was well enough to come home, and I began the next phase of my life.

I have told this story to only a few people in my life, because I was fearful of being branded a lunatic. Now, I don't particularly care what people believe. I know what I believe. Until that point, God was merely a theory. I believed in Jesus, but it was a nebulous sort of belief. Now I know that there is an afterlife, and that God has a plan for me. I don't know what that plan entails - none of us does.

Einstein is the wrong person to be asking a question like this. As a scientist, Einstein was looking for some verifiable proof. God is a spiritual entity who defies the rules of physics. He can't be proven scientifically.

As a matter of faith, I know what I believe, and that belief system is not going to change whether scientists are able to prove or disprove His existence. That's their thing.

I'll end this hub by quoting a t-shirt I once saw that I particularly enjoyed. It read:

God Is Dead - Neitzche

Neitzche is Dead - God

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