The one who can hold all views without collapsing into a single one—this one has begun to touch the fragrance of God’s nature. Not as a distant deity or conceptual truth, but as the intimate presence that animates all forms. God doesn’t just witness through your eyes. God is your eyes. And mine. And the eyes of the ant crawling across a leaf in morning stillness.
This divine intelligence doesn’t merely empathize—it becomes. It becomes the grief you carry, the joy that surprises you, the silence you avoid, and the stillness you crave. Not as separate roles being played, but as the very substance of all that is.
To speak of God as past, present, and future is already a concession to language. What we call time, God weaves as a single gesture—fluid, simultaneous, indivisible. To the infinite, all points of view are a single vision. Yet paradoxically, each one is also honoured in its fullness.
So what does it mean to come closer to knowing God? It is not the attainment of a singular truth, but the expansion into every truth. It is the dissolution of needing one side to be right. The widening of the self to include what you once rejected.
The more vantage points you can stand upon without losing your groundless centre, the more you begin to see as God sees—not from above, but from within all.
And in that seeing, nothing is foreign. Nothing is separate. Nothing is unholy.
Morgan O. Smith
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Morgan O. Smith 