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Dear God,

  I have struggled with your name.  I have wandered aimless through the fields of appellation.  I have, for some time, considered what and a wonderful and terrifying thing you must be.  What a marvelous thing, must God be, that all the names we have called you mean only that we have no word for what you are to us!  I have listened, I have questioned.  I have tried my best, within, to view you from every angle my eyes can see—I beg you forgive my poor sight, at times.

  I have tried to take what information I have found, from so many people, and interpret it the very best I know how.  I have allowed my mind to question your might, your reasons and, indeed, your existence.  I have learned from those around me, from those I love and those ancient dead, far wiser than me.  Always, I have sought to know who I am and who those are around me.  I have obeyed my instincts inasmuch they do not betray my reason.

  I am an average man in your world who has never cast a formidable shadow.  I have wronged others and I know guilt.  I have been wronged and I know anger.  I have loved what I should love—and what I should not.  I have acted out of spite and I know shame.  I have been loved and I know joy.  I have been vain, malicious and cruel.  From this, I have learned.  By all this, I write to you.

  I know, now, that it doesn't matter what I call you.  It doesn't matter what you are.  I have learned much in my short life, and hope to learn much more.  I have studied the religions of many cultures and understood the science of my day.  The thing is, I understand why some can't believe in you.  I can fathom their reasoning.  I know the math, I see the logic.  Indeed, as I know the methods by which things work, I appreciate them all the more.

  I have objectively considered the many possibilities presented me; I have pondered many more my own.  I have seen the hatred between two men who both want only to please you.  I have seen mothers turn away their daughters because they understood you differently.  I have seen wars waged in your name.  I have also seen the beauty you've inspired.  I have wept to read the words penned for your name's sake.  I have marveled at the art men have made for you.

  There are so many questions I have; so many things lost in translation, forgotten for our ignorance or hidden for our vanity.  There are so many things I wish to learn.  This, however, I have learned: it doesn't matter what I call you, or what you are.  I do not believe that science has offered itself as an alternative to you.  Nature is not chaos, but obeys its laws.  It will continue to obey its laws even if we do not understand them all.  I believe in science and in the physical world.  I believe that science will continue to lead us inches closer to the immeasurable wisdom of you.

  I do not pretend to know you or understand what you are.  I fall far short of that manner of wisdom and pray this will be enough.  I believe in you.  I believe you exist; even if the context is beyond me.  It doesn't matter, to me, whether you truly are a single, omnipotent being, or a host of divine existences.  It doesn't matter if you are an intangible force, or a physical reality.  I believe you exist and because of that, the world has become more than it once was.  I have ceased my endeavors to know what you are because I feel that whatever it is, I owe my gratitude and grace to you.

  I would not know the marvels of my age without you having been there in the past.  Whether through prosperity or suffering, your world has become a mighty place.  Men have endured, in spite of themselves at times.  Men have created powerful things, whether for your love, or their hate.  Men have sought to make more of their world than they were provided—and though at times I know there is sin in that, surely without it we would be an uninteresting lot, indeed.

  I do not know if what I have to offer you is enough.  I cannot be certain you would be pleased with what I've learned.  I can only promise you that I will always struggle to learn more.  I believe in you, God, by whatever name you please.  I believe, as well, that you can hear me.  With that, I pray:
  Thank you, God, for every moment I have experienced—and forgive me, I beg, for all those moments I missed the point.

  Yours, Truly,
  George