“O Lord my God, when I in awesome wonder, Consider all the worlds Thy hands have made…”
The Translucent World
There was a time when to look upon creation was to look through it – when every tree, every tide, every breath of wind was a translucent gesture of the divine. The world was not an object of study but a sacrament. The early worshipper’s gaze did not halt at the horizon; it passed beyond it, tracing beauty back to its source.
My grandmother used to pause at sunsets. Not to photograph them, but to stand in them – silent, receptive, as if the dimming light carried a message meant specifically for her. She never explained what she saw there. Perhaps she didn’t need to. The act of witnessing was itself the understanding.
That was Eden’s rhythm – knowing without dissecting, belonging without owning. The garden was not lost through curiosity; it was lost through impatience. Humanity reached for the infinite before it had learned reverence. We wanted the fruit before we understood the tree.
Since that first grasp, our trajectory has been a long, glittering descent – from worshipping the Creator, to worshipping what He created, and now, to worshipping what creation itself has made. The idols have changed shape, but not function. From stone to silicon, from golden calves to glowing screens, the human heart has always sought something it could both fear and fashion.
The Arc of Worship: From Many Gods to Many Gigabytes