As far back as I can remember the presence of God bewildered me. I did not know what to believe. Perhaps my
very first memory of God as image was the clichéd portrait of the bearded white fellow a cross between Victor
Hugo and a faded Orson Welles. By my late teens my minor doubts had grown into utter scepticism. The book
of Revelations provided me with sleepless nights of ghastly visions of hell, this terrifying chapter that is filled
with prophecies of doom. But it was not the book of Revelations that flabbergasted me as much. It was Genesis.
The beginning. ‘ In the beginning’ it is boldly announced. They are the very first words obnoxiously written. I
scratched my head. What about before the beginning? I quietly questioned. In fact wouldn’t ‘in the middle’ be a
far more responsible opening. Oh the worries. The doubts the uncertainty, that possessed my very being since
Where do we come from? Where do we go? Who are we?