Your world is tiny, yes. But God gets tinier. Not one dust mite falls through the carpet fibres and into the pad apart from your Father. He’s big enough that *small* doesn’t matter. Dust-mite drama doesn’t use up his attention, taking it away from something deemed by mentally incontinent college professors to be more worthy of His attention. When one is infinite, one can enjoy two black holes arm-wrestling over a galactic snack, and an uncoordinated junior high quarterback struggling to escape an uncoordinated junior high defensive end. Infinite goes all the way up and all the way down; at every level, with equal attention, He creates with the full dose of His personality.
N. D. Wilson, Death By Living (via thecolourofmagic)
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