I was saddened last week to learn of the death of Stephen Hawking, one of history’s most eminent scientists. I admired his persistence and ability to overcome the devastating neurodegenerative condition that crippled his body and stole his speech. Yet, as much as I appreciated Hawking’s seemingly unquenchable search for knowledge, I strongly opposed his conclusions, which pointed to a universe without a creator.
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“What’s for dinner?” my husband, Dana, asked after work this week.
“Hardboiled eggs,” I said.
“And?” He looked at me funny.
“Just hard boiled eggs,” I said.
It was the last time I would ever be in my mother’s house. I’d been dreading this moment since she’d died 18 months before. Neither of us was prepared for her to go so quickly. Diagnosed with cancer in the middle of summer, she’d died six days before Christmas. Could I trust a God like this?
I once read, that while most non-profit, charitable-type organizations begin with an honest effort to help others, a turning-point frequently comes at which they shift from their original purpose towards self-sustenance. That is, they exist to keep themselves in existence.