Every system needs a foundation. Streets, schools, businesses, governments, or even prisons all use some sort of system; they all have a rule book of some kind, whether written or unwritten. Even when the rules are unwritten, they still point to an underlying order, a foundation that holds everything together. We see this in every aspect of life—whether it’s in the way people conduct themselves in business, the informal codes that govern social interactions, or the unseen expectations within a family or community. These unwritten rules often aren’t listed on a page or formally agreed upon, but they are felt, known, and respected by those who are part of that system. The unwritten rules are just as real and influential as the written ones, and they still originate from somewhere. Think about the way a community operates without a formal government or laws. There are still behaviors and expectations that guide how people treat each other. There might be a strong expectation to show respect to elders, to keep one’s word, or to act with loyalty toward the group. These rules, though unwritten, shape actions and decisions. In some ways, they might even be more powerful because they carry the weight of tradition, culture, and shared experience. They can shape people’s behavior more subtly, but no less forcefully, than a written law.The same applies to informal systems like friendships or relationships. There may be no official agreement on how you should treat your friends or loved ones, but there’s still an unspoken understanding of loyalty, trust, and mutual respect. Break that code, and you’ll feel the repercussions. The unspoken expectation of loyalty among friends or the respect given to someone in a position of trust doesn’t come from nowhere. Even if it’s not written down, it has an origin—an expectation that is rooted in the nature of relationships, human dignity, and right behavior. Unwritten rules all point to something bigger. They reflect the same principles that exist in the world, whether they are acknowledged or not. There must be justification for why we value such principles outside of subjectivity. There is a source behind the order of things, a lawmaker who set the foundational principles that undergird even the things we don’t always articulate. When we follow these unwritten rules—whether we recognize them as such or not—we’re participating in a larger order that transcends culture, time, and human effort. These unwritten laws aren’t arbitrary; they have purpose and direction. And just like written laws, they reflect the unchanging truth of a system that was designed to function in a particular way. In the same way that the universe operates under physical laws like gravity, our moral, social, and relational systems operate under principles that point to a higher lawmaker, one whose design cannot be denied, even in the absence of written codes. Everything in this world operates within certain limits. Your sneakers wear out. Your car needs repairs. Even your neighborhood changes over time. We, too, are born, we grow, and we eventually die. These are natural laws—everything in this material world has a beginning and an end. But what if there’s something beyond that? Something that doesn’t follow these same rules—something or someone that isn’t bound by time or decay? That idea challenges the way we think because it’s not something we can easily observe or measure with our senses. We are in a materialistic body and use materialistic instruments. It’s not something we can fully grasp because we’re limited by the stuff we experience every day. But just because we can’t understand infinity with our finite minds doesn’t mean it’s not real. This is reality, the ultimate reality. We might not be able to understand eternity completely, but we can know that there’s a power behind it all—a power beyond what we see and feel. And that brings us to something even deeper. If we were just a bunch of meat and chemicals, if our thoughts were merely random brain sparks, then why does a human life have more value than a rock? Why do we grieve at funerals? Why do we honor acts of selflessness, like when someone steps up to protect a loved one, even at the cost of their own life? There’s something in us that sees beyond the physical world. When a person chooses to break free from the cycle of violence or hardship, when someone rises above the circumstances to become more, that’s not just biology in action. That’s a choice. That’s spirit and soul.
Science can track the brain’s chemical reactions, but can it measure the depth of love a mother feels for her child? Can it explain why a person would risk everything for the sake of their community? It can’t. Science can measure emotions, but it can’t measure the essence of those emotions—the motivations behind them. That’s something more. Something divine. There’s a growing recognition in the scientific community that the idea of a “chemical imbalance” being the primary cause of mental health conditions, like depression, is overly simplistic. Despite it being a widely accepted explanation for decades, the latest research increasingly challenges this notion. In fact, many experts argue that this theory has been largely debunked. Mental health conditions are complex and cannot be boiled down to a simple imbalance of chemicals in the brain. Many skeptics have long maintained that science might eventually disprove the existence of God, but as we continue to explore the universe, many are beginning to see the opposite happening. The more we learn, the more it seems to point to something greater, something beyond the material world. It’s not just about the levels of serotonin or dopamine in the brain—it’s about the broader picture, and it calls for an examination of spirit. There’s something deeper at play—something that science can’t fully measure or capture. And yet, in many cases, we’re quick to turn to medication as a solution to these complex issues, prescribing drugs that target brain chemistry without addressing the underlying causes of emotional distress; this has been detrimental to society. We may not fully understand everything, and that’s okay—because our knowledge is limited in every aspect of life. When it comes to morality or non-material things, we may not fully comprehend all the complexities, but we can observe that certain things are wrong. For instance, we don’t need to know every single detail about human psychology or the brain to know that domestic abuse is wrong. We don’t need a scientific breakdown of every element of why murder is wrong; we know that it is. We may not know all the details of the universe, of morality, or of the nature of God. But just because we don’t know everything doesn’t invalidate what we do know. We see the effects of a higher power at work in our lives and in the world around us. Just as we can observe the moon’s cycle without fully understanding the forces that keep it in orbit, we can recognize that some truths transcend our limited understanding. That doesn’t mean we should reject the pursuit of knowledge; it means we should acknowledge that some things might go beyond what we can directly observe or measure. Look around you. Even in the most hardened, material-driven environments, like dangerous inner cities, people know that some things can’t be explained by biology. Statistically, they know this well.
To say that dangerous inner-city residents or anyone who believes in spiritual things is “just dumb” because they aren’t educated is a wildly arrogant and dismissive perspective. It assumes that someone’s lack of formal education disqualifies them from understanding deeper, more complex truths. People in these environments might not have traditional degrees or textbooks to back them up, but they often have a kind of wisdom that comes from experience, survival, and a deeper reflection on life. It’s this very wisdom that allows them to sense that there’s more to life than meets the eye—that some things transcend material reality. To reduce that perspective to ignorance or a lack of education is to overlook the richness of human experience and the complex nature of truth. Belief in spiritual things isn’t a sign of a lack of education; it can often be a reflection of deeper questioning, an awareness that there’s more to reality.
A real community member doesn’t just protect the strong; it protects those who can’t protect themselves. That single mom. The elderly man who’s too tired to hustle. The kid who’s different. We protect them not because they can do something for us, but because they’re human. Because there’s something deeper than just what we can touch and see. They have a spirit, and a spirit is given to them by a power much greater than humans. And when we see someone doing something that goes against their own survival instinct—choosing dignity, choosing to protect others over personal gain—that’s proof there’s more to life than just biology. That’s spirit. That’s the essence of what makes us human. This isn’t just random chemical reactions happening inside us. This is a choice. This is will. This is reflecting the character of the spirit giver. The spirit is the essence of life, the animating force that gives us consciousness and connects us to something greater than ourselves. The spirit giver is the life giver. He is the spirit; He is the life
Thank you,
Ben Anthony Simon
Pilgrims Ponder 