Imagine you are Adam. The sky cracks, the clouds tremble, and God’s arm extends toward you. The gap between His finger and yours is filled not only with electricity, but with language. Every word we speak lives in that gap. Every word we shape — from good to God — is His reach, embedded in our tongue.
The Linguistic Root of the Divine
- Old English gōd = good.
- Proto-Germanic gōdaz = fit, unite.
- Proto-Indo-European gʰedʰ- = suitable, joined.
Out of this soil grew both good and god. Morality and divinity sprout from the same root, entwined in language long before theology gave them names.
Language is not a neutral tool. It is a vessel of culture, thought, and history. To speak is already to inherit a worldview. Which means that when skeptics dismiss God as invention, they forget that invention itself is shaped by words that carry the fingerprints of divinity.
Voices in the Gap
Wittgenstein: “The limits of my language mean the limits of my world.”
Lewis: “Religion makes explicit what is latent in the human heart.”
Nietzsche: “The most perfidious way of harming a cause is to defend it with faulty arguments.”
Drop these voices into the silence and you hear the echo: our moral intuitions, our deepest arguments, even our denials — they are framed by language already seeded with the divine.
Everyday Prayers Hidden in Speech
Consider the phrase “Good night.”
Once, it was “God be with you.”
Over time it shortened, casualized. Yet the divine blessing lingers, invisible but alive, every time we say goodnight to a child or a stranger.
Language remembers. Even when we forget.
Toward Silence
So the question isn’t whether divinity exists outside of us. The question is how deeply it runs within us — coded into words, etched into letters, alive in the very air we use to speak.
Atheists will discover that the very words they use — the letters themselves — are holy. And when that recognition comes, there is only one proper response: silence.