A soul needs His God. There is neither antiquated denial nor newfound philosophy to dissuade this reality. An empty space needs a burning star. A wounded man needs a bandage and some balm. And a soul needs His God.
When the quaking elements of the Universe shivered a bit less in the shadow of Creation Eve, and planets began to spin on the finger tips of the Almighty, and creatures sprung from Creation soils, running, dancing, and discovering their new world; God formed His masterpiece. It was simplicity and the Supernatural. Stirred dust. Pressed clay. Moisture and manifestation. Soil and Sovereignty. Sculpted delight. A statue of His likeness. A form of His curiosity. And the wind stirred. The Master is in His Creative quarry, and he carves the mouth and pressed the pliable dirt where eyes will appear.
There is an artistic process known as Assemblage. It consists of making three dimensional or two dimensional artistic compositions by putting together found objects. A famous rendering of this chaotic art form is the display of Canyon at the National Gallery of Art, in Washington DC. This particular assemblage uses oil, house paint, pencil, paper, fabric, metal, buttons, nails, cardboard, printed paper, photographs, wood, paint, tubes, mirror string, pillow and a bald eagle.
And so the great Assemblage Artist of Heaven brought man together of dust and love, clay and curiosity, soil and soul, desert grit and Divine grace; forming and pressing and stretching and carving until a collective being, complicated and cold in its dead state, was given life by the very breath of God. What we were formed with we cannot live without: the breath of God.
Even the most wicked man cannot do the despicable deeds he does without the original essence of the breath of God. He can reject it. He can deny it. He can work his entire life in opposition to its truest nature, but the breath of God is what sustains it. And the soul needs His God…
Or else the ledge from which we plummet into darkness is too slippery to avoid. And when the deadened sinner man thinks that he can pursue the secrets of life without inquiry of the Master Builder of the Universe, he is altogether too ignorant to know that there is no discover in darkness. The unbending darkness will not give understanding to the most analytical mind no matter how intelligent and learned; the unbending darkness will not yield one clue to the most inspecting of eyes, no matter how clever the detective is with his magnifying glass, scrutinizing stare, and calculating mind. The unbending darkness will not respond to the desperate voice of human spiritualism, no matter how sincere, focused, and committed. For the darkness cannot give you vision without light. And the soul is dark without God. For without God there is no light. And where there is no light there is lonely darkness. The unbending darkness. No give. No gain. No God. And herein is the blank filling, question answering hypothesis proving reality…only God. It is His breath. It is His light. And what burgeons for discovery within you and I is really His soul.