I’m sitting here rewatching Planet Earth, one of the greatest documentaries ever produced. Before I watched it, I was on the verge of atheism—but then the planet itself started testifying.

I knew then that it had to be something higher than just us mere mortals. Something vast and patient. Something that doesn’t need applause or altars, because it’s already written into bone and tide and breath.

Watching the Earth breathe, hunt, bloom, and endure made it clear: we are not the authors of this story. We’re characters. Temporary ones. Necessary, maybe. But not central in the way our egos would like to believe. And there was relief in that. A holy kind of humility.

And once you see that—once you feel the quiet intelligence humming beneath oceans and storms and migrating wings—you can’t unsee it. You can argue theology all day, split doctrines like hairs, throw labels at belief systems like darts. But awe? Awe doesn’t care about your categories and I will always remain in awe of the critters that exist amongst us.