We are confined in the nursery with all our toys and so we play with them incessantly, perhaps necessarily. We love our academics, our science, and our metaphysics. Through play we have grown wise and built libraries. We write and heap knowledge upon knowledge. We harness all and predict correctly. We walk on the moon and telephone the solar system. Internet has propelled us at light speed to unimagined heights. Energy and light are our helpers whom we command and we have mastered our sums though we still cannot name the last number. The physicians among us transplant organs and cure malignancies. They are sometimes effective with mental disorders but have trouble with definitions of what is mental and what is moral. A lot of times they just give up and go with prevailing persuasions. As a whole, lives and living are better, longer, and more at ease.
Our gravest error lies in the murky and dark presuppositions which reach backward. More than a few of us unwittingly think there exists a law of everything that covers the whole show. Everything must be self-starting, self-containing, self-existing and in the end, self-destructing. We know conquered truths of nature are solid enough, factual enough, and all tongues confidently build upon and share ever escalating delights within our time. But statements of origins reaching behind us and struggling through natural super-nature, branches contrarily from many seeds. Pantheism; there is nothing that is not God. Naturalism; there is nothing that is not nature. Nothing new seems to be happening here, just a continual recycling of the old stuff. Everything is either a precursor of all or a development of all else, of which a precursor can never be better or a development worse than what is. Okay, it might better be said, moderns are not recycling necessarily but repackaging, particles, points, strings, and waves. But real things have edges and shapes and complications and destinations. Progressive movement may keep the clock ticking forward but glances cast backward over nature’s shoulder are only for tired, agenda driven philosophers who dream nightmares in an attempt to slay elusive super-nature.
Yes, we have made friends with velocity (speed and distance), space, energy, and mass – blocks of nature which until studied, tamed, imprisoned, and falsely humiliated are frightful foes. But we think as children if we try to presuppose any of their makings. Elohim the Creator abides outside their walls and beckons but we cannot get there by rocket. It is He that we may presuppose is here, and back there, and to come. At any rate He is not to be found up, but in other, and He Himself must pull back the curtain. Primordial knowledge is not one of our toys. We are pierced with it from without.