From Breakfast with Buddha by Roland Merullo.

What if the secret architecture of it all was just as Rinpoche claimed: some cosmic unit there beyond our false identification with the individual body? a love beyond imagining that hid in the molecules of a trillion shapes, causing hearts to beat and rivers to run and lovers to find each other? What if the plain old Protestants had it partly right -- that you could have direct access to that breath and pulse of love without the official intervention of the church fathers? More than that, what if, throughout history, there had been people -- grand spirits in human form -- sent to show us the rout out of this mess, a way to embody that love , or merge with it, rather than simply touching it once in a while, with a handful of close should, in our best moments? What if earth was just a violent stopping place on the highway to some saner, sweeter home, and there were teachers who saw that and had come to help us on the journey? And if there really were such people, what would be the consequence of ignoring them?