It costs the (post)modern man to look at the waves and see God. The pre-modern human would have seen, in the cresting foam, an unexplainable force which could rise in fury to destroy, or, in turn, yield a rich bounty. Behind it were god(s) who must be placated or served.

But we can look at the waves and see fluid mechanics, gravity, and the protean force of life, evolving steadily: the selfish gene reproducing itself. We peer into the depths of nature and see bits or vectors, beautiful, chaotic, elegantly ordered, or dangerous.

But to look up, to God? Why would we look upwards to a Creator-God? We have all the miracle we need inside the very atoms that comprise us.

And for those of us that do look up, we wonder why. The trails of questions on which we led our parents always ended in God. Is this not reason enough for us to have developed the habit of looking upwards? Trained as we train the sex drive to either monogamy or infidelity, unconsciously, deeply, but ultimately rooted in what we ourselves desire.

There it would be, as a coin toss, to believe or not to believe. This would be the time to cue scientific apologetics, which I enjoy more, even, than a good political conversation.

But the truth of the matter is experiential. It is simply this: as I have stepped casually towards belief I have been wooed by a God far greater than my imaginings, in ways that I would not certainly not invent, were I my God's author.