Imagine, if you will, that you've created this universe. That you've watched it expand and boil, then cool, collide and mature. That you've seen stars form and grow and die, then cast their contents to the cosmos, scattering the building blocks of molecules required for life. Imagine you look at just one of the hundreds of billions of galaxies that you have made, and from it select one of the hundreds of billions of stars, and give your focus to one of its planets.
From there, give your attention to first life. Watch it stutter and start, nearly obliterate itself in the
oxygen catastrophe, watch it grow larger and expand in variety only to gaze on dispassionately while it is mostly annihilated some sixty five million years ago. Then see how life recovers, and watch how the mammals begin their ascendancy to fill a void left by the death of dinosaurs. Now wait millions of years, until you see the first apes straighten to two legs and stagger blinking into the light, afraid, alone, dying mostly of their teeth or in childbirth.
Watch the rise of the Neanderthals, with their hopes, rituals and protoreligious burials unanswered, then watch as they decline, dwindle and die. We mere mortals know that Homo florensiencsis discovered fire and likely made hunting tools but you will be able to see with clarity how closely these long dead cousins mirrored our intelligence. Enjoy the discoveries, waiting, watching, until some two hundred thousand years ago the first anatomical humans rise to enjoy a life of fear and early death. Wait further still, until some five thousand years ago you decide to reveal yourself to a man called Abram, and reveal to him the concern that has been most keenly pressing for this immense chasm of time: