I have always found the idea of infinity to make more sense than the idea of space or time starting or ending. The latter just makes my brain ask but what about before or what is beyond the end of space?
I recognize that is likely just a limitation in humans. Not saying it is wrong to say that either can stop or start. Just saying that while the idea of infinity is hard it is easier on my brain than the alternative.
Also, as a side point, I don't think the big bang is physicists attempt to explain where everything came from. At least that is my understanding of it. It is just the extrapolation of all of the evidence points to a point where a big bang happened. What was before that? Did time even exist? I don't think the theory is meant to answer those questions though I could be wrong.
I don’t think my mind can truly grasp the concept of infinity—or the idea of something with no beginning and no end. But that’s precisely the point when we speak of the universe, the soul, or the divine. Philosophical infinity isn’t just a number that stretches forever. It’s the notion of something utterly unbounded—in scope, power, time, or essence. It’s not about counting endlessly—it’s about whether anything can truly exist without limit, and what that would mean for reality itself. This opens the door to profound metaphysical questions:
Can infinity actually exist? Or is it just a placeholder—a word we use when we reach the outer edge of human understanding?
The truth is, we throw around words like infinite or eternal in the abstract, but we rarely stop to consider what they really mean. We’re wired for the finite—birth and death, beginnings and endings. We can imagine “very large,” but limitless? That breaks our mental framework.
Infinity challenges the logic we rely on. Consider Zeno’s paradox: if you keep halving the distance to your goal, you should never arrive. Yet somehow, you do. These ideas show us that infinity doesn’t obey normal logic—
and yet, it can still describe something real.
Which brings us back to the original and deepest questions—about God, the soul, and the universe. The idea that something could actually be infinite—complete, timeless, all-encompassing—is a way many traditions have tried to understand the divine. God, as conceived in much of theology, is not simply powerful but infinitely so: beyond time, beyond comprehension. And if the soul is eternal—if it originates from or is tethered to that infinite source—then maybe we’re not just passing shadows in a meaningless void. So what does it mean if the universe truly is infinite? Does that make us insignificant, or does it make us part of something greater than we can ever comprehend?
I don’t claim to have the answers—obviously. But I
do know this: there’s enough I don’t know—and will never know in this life—that humility is the only honest response. And that’s where faith enters. Not blind certainty, but a quiet acknowledgment that some truths might exist beyond the reach of reason alone. To mock that kind of faith—to call it weakness or escapism—feels less like insight and more like hubris. Especially when it’s rooted in the illusion that we
already know all there is to know. We don’t. And maybe we’re not meant to. Maybe the very act of wondering is part of the point.