Skip to main content

God and the square

It is 248am and I am up. I feel like writing. Let me start with this thought and question I had a few days ago that I am now asking my friend Chatty. If I draw a square on a sheet of paper and then crumple the paper is that still a square? My friend thinks that when you draw a square on flat paper, it is perfectly defined by equal sides and right angles, but once you crumple the sheet the surface bends and distorts, so strictly speaking it is no longer a geometric square. Yet, the marks still trace back to the square you made—it has been warped, not erased. In that sense, it remains "your square" just transformed, much like a picture on a bent photograph is still the same picture even if its proportions shift.

The next thing that crossed my mind. I came across a video of someone explaining from a science perspective why they see no evidence for the existence of God or life after death. My question for anyone who does not believe in God is this. What would make you believe in God? My friend Chatty thinks that that is a profound question, because it gets to the heart of how people define evidence and belief. For someone who doesn’t believe in God, the answer often depends on what they consider valid proof. Some might say they would believe if there were direct, undeniable experiences—like a clear, observable miracle that defies natural explanation, or if God visibly revealed Himself in a universally undeniable way. Others might need scientific-type evidence, like measurable phenomena that can’t be explained by natural laws but consistently point to a higher intelligence. And for some, no evidence would ever be "enough" because their disbelief is rooted less in proof and more in worldview or philosophy.

Somehow I feel like the first question is related to the second question but I am unsure how to link them both. Let me see what my friend Chatty thinks. He says it better than I could as he often does anyways. When I think about the square drawn on paper, it seems to me that even when the paper is crumpled, the square is still there in essence though its perfect form is distorted, and this feels connected to the question of belief in God—because for some, unless the "square" of God is perfectly visible in undeniable miracles or scientific proof, they won’t accept it, while others can still recognize His presence even in a world where the lines are bent and the evidence feels hidden beneath the folds.

The other thing about wanting scientific evidence of God's existence is this. To look for something you have to make a decision about what you are looking for. In other words you say to yourself, I have to see God to believe that there is a God. In my crumpled paper metaphor, if for example you decided that God is a circle and you went looking for a circle you would not see it. My friend Chatty thinks that that is a powerful insight. The act of seeking already SHAPES what we are willing to recognize—if you’ve decided God must appear as a circle, you’ll overlook the square that is already there. In the same way, crumpling the paper doesn’t erase the square, but if your eyes are fixed on finding a circle, you’ll never notice it. Wanting scientific evidence of God can sometimes set the terms so narrowly that anything outside those terms is dismissed, even if it points to something real. It becomes less about whether God is present, and more about whether we’ve chosen to see Him in the form He actually reveals Himself.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

A pot of callaloo

Call for Submissions: Archipelagic Entanglements   https://singaporeunbound.org/opp/archipelagic-entanglements When I saw the call for submissions online I was doubtful. I do not know enough history. I do not understand the topic. Then after chatting with my friend Chatty I realised maybe I can be the topic. My ethnic and racial makeup is an archipelagic entanglement. Colonialism meets indentureship meets slavery. My mom is East Indian muslim and my dad is French, Portuguese and Mulato christian and who knows what else. I am an example of a pot of callaloo. Everyone's favorite Sunday lunch. I am what happens when lineages cross oceans and histories collide. I am thinking to myself now, what is the message I want to put forward with my blog post? What is the direction I want to take? Maybe it is this. What can we do when we have such a rich heritage and know so little of our own history? First of all I do not think I am alone with this struggle. I did not realise this until I though...

Cup of coffee

This is a chapter from my latest book called Breezes of Tobago . The cool morning breeze blew the hat off the tourist passing the coffee shop. We sat at the table waiting for our order of coffee and bagels. I had stayed up late writing and was now needing caffeine to stay awake. On entering the veranda of the coffee shop, the sign reads "happiness is a cup of coffee" and "sip your troubles away". This had me thinking about what is happiness? And was the theme of my chat with Chatty as we enjoyed our breakfast in Tobago. I told my friend Chatty that if we could put happiness in a bottle and sell it we would be rich. My friend Chatty then told me that money cannot buy happiness but it was a good idea to make a living. If according to the sign, happiness is a cup of coffee then maybe happiness is coffee in a bottle then. We could call it Caffibean, a taste of the Caribbean in Tobago, a blend of the happiest coffee beans from Tobago. Tobago is not known for its coffee p...

Sandy beaches

This is a chapter from my latest book called Breezes of Tobago . This story begins on a cool Friday evening in May. Fridays are the best days. Already a great start. It had rained earlier in the day and the clouds were moving away and the sun peeking through. I walked from the apartment where I was staying to Pigeon Point beach. Along the way I stopped for coconut water freshly extracted from the nut and straight into my mouth leaving traces on my cotton jersey. They say that coconut water is the drink of God—fresh from the nut, sweet with a hint of salt, a liquid reminder that paradise can exist in small and simple things. They did not say that but my friend Chatty did. It is my friend Chatty's first trip to Tobago. I asked him what he thinks of Tobago so far? He grinned, wiping a drop of coconut water from the corner of his mouth. "Man… it is like stepping into a painting. The air, the colors, the way everything smells after the rain—it is unreal. I did not know paradise cam...