I read an interesting essay recently that discussed the existence of God, and I realized that I had not thought of this particular approach myself. But given that I am, aside from all else, a terribly practical creature, it made perfect sense to me. It has nothing to do with faith and everything to do with plain common sense and the basic laws of motion and manipulation. It was brought home unexpectedly to me the other day as I was gathering the ingredients to bake a pan of brownies.
There they sat, the cupful of flour, the one-third cupful of cocoa powder, the sugar, the half-stick of butter, the egg, and the leavener, awaiting my ministrations. And there it was, the answer, in the form of the ingredients for a lowly pan of brownies: without my intervention, those simple substances would have just continued to sit there indefinitely until time, and the elements, claimed them. At no point would they ever have magically join forces to produce something edible, and no amount of wishing or wand-waving could ever have made it so.
The same applies to a lump of clay, a bare canvas, a ball of yarn, a pile of lumber, or a blank sheet of paper. Nothing can ever come of any of it until an intelligence intervenes to impart some sort of order to it all, or some great hand reaches out to give it shape and form. There can be no art without an artist, no sweater without a knitter, no statue or vase without a sculptor, no desk without a builder, no brownies without a baker, no stories without a writer.