Silence and the gems of glory

The lustrous gems preach the gospel in their setting as guided by the skill and hand of the master jeweler. Their silence is enough, as the eloquence is palpable. And what is the gospel of the diamond?

  topaz

That there is One greater than the shine, there is One more honorable than the collected oohs and aahs of the wedding ring admirers; there is One who can be appreciated through the rust of time, whose heritage can still be passed down. In this, there is an expected glory to be given, and the fact is: like it or not, believe it or not, we all give glory to someone. Sooooooo, what do we say of He who made the diamond, the gold, or the pearl? Or do we relish in our arrogance thinking that such gems are a mere accident or only circumstance of ‘time.’

People will stand in awe of a thousand-year old castle, and have no interest in the glory due to the designer or builder.  Time has silenced the deserved praise of the craftsman, and replaced it with the glory of the tenants. They who dwell in such a place have gladly accepted the accolades of they who have less, or better yet, they who know even less.

Some speak of the greatness of Shakespeare, but give no glory to He who gave the tools and inspiration to man for the alphabet, whereby the poet could ply his craft; yea even Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end, the first and the last, He who is very familiar with words.

Similar to the perfectness of arithmetic, the alphabet has long lived in under-appreciated silence. There is always something, someone beyond the efforts and achievements of man. Some defer to MD’s, PhD’s, RN’S, lawyers, teachers, sportsmen,  architects, engineers, painters, sages, musicians, bakers, or grass cutters, and the list is endless as to who could be on the receiving end of adulation.

There is certainly nothing wrong with the recognition of artistry, ingenuity, beauty, skill, labor, and all around inspiration, but man would be well served to consider what or who ultimately receives the worth of our words.

When a man as Neil D. Tyson is paraded with others carrying his brain on their platter of pride to worship his alleged genius, yeah, there is a whole lot of ‘glory’ served up. And why pray tell is such a fellow wrapped in lavish laurels?

Because he has fashioned words and ideas which attempt to make God irrelevant or non-existent, while cleverly making himself a god. Yep, words tend to do such things. He is famous for this:

“God is an ever–receding pocket of scientific ignorance that’s getting smaller and smaller and smaller as time goes on.’

As I said,  ‘served up on a platter of pride.’ Unknowingly or not, the disciples of such thought give glory to man, but not for building something that will last for centuries or even millenia, but for speaking God OUT of His creation. No small feat here.

A child of three will look up and see the glory of the stars, and the obvious design brought much closer to his conscience by the very moon, and know innately of a Creator, and the ‘learned man’ will come along and steal his wonder by telling him he needs to ‘study’ the ways of the world, and in time, he will believe there is ‘no’ Master Designer.

 The child needs to be re-educated in that which he instinctively knows. Ouch.

Yea, good luck with trying to justify offending one of the little ones who naturally believe. Mr. Tyson, his disciples, and any who discount or write off a Creator, preach words and the gospel of Unbelief. They bring a message of diamonds without the effulgence.

They promise a pocket of gold which is simply colored plastic. It is a song with discordant notes. It is water that is dry. It is words with no life. It is sad. They preach the gospel of humanism which by its very nature is dark, damp, cold, and dastardly.

They want faith from the faithful, hope from the hopeful, and truth from the truthful, all with a goal to put a lustre on the little stone god called ego, to fashion their own artificial gem. Man must have a golden calf.

If words were food, would we  bring words of nutrition and life, or words of death?  Would our words be palatable to the mind and stomach, or would we be better served to send them to the compactor?

When a man says God is getting smaller and smaller, I submit His self-absorption is becoming larger and larger, for a man who makes such a claim,  pride is a great sheet that covers a lot of acreage. Nature preaches a gospel of the Creator, and the animals bow in humble obedience.

The voice of the LORD maketh the hinds to calve, and discovereth the forests: and in his temple doth every one speak of his glory.

And so the females give birth by the ‘word’ of God; by the Creator’s genius the animals hear this voice and the forests clap in approval. And the result?

In this new place of life and light, where gems are a preview of something more permanent, everyone speaks of the glory of God, and rightly so. Silence can be the pearl of great price, but not at the moment.