God, Science, and The Multitude of Multiverses

As I continue to gently pitch my last book into the great yawning abyss of the interwebs, one of the ways I've been keeping engaged with the peculiar intersection between faith and multiverse/Many Worlds cosmology is through social media.  Every article, every new book, every bit of digestible information that is created exploring this wild new cosmology?  Thanks to the glories of the net, I'm there, and it gets added in to the list for reading or viewing.

One slightly older piece that I recently encountered was an article by an atheist/skeptic, who attempted to answer the question: "Why is there something rather than nothing?"

The article lays out a sequence of answers that scientific cosmology has given to this question, playing out an array of different theories.  The idea of a Creator is included, of course, but it is quickly dismissed.  So it goes.  We all have our blinders, so there's no point in having a whack at that one.

What was more interesting was that most of the cosmologies described were one form of multiverse or another.  Because, brothers and sisters, there ain't just one multiverse theory.  There's the Darwinian multiverse, and the inflationary multiverse.  There's the branching Everettian Many Worlds quantum multiverse, and the "brane" multiverse.  There's the 10 to the 500 possible universes that might arise from string theory, or the quantum foam multiverse.

I've read through listings of these various competing theories before, and they're fascinating.

But what I found myself wondering, as I perused these explanations, was whether they are mutually exclusive.  Oh, some might just be plain ol' wrong, sure.  But then again, many of them may be right. Most of them might be right, because there seems room in these theories for interplay with one another.  Within each of these multiverse theories, there seems to be space for others.

Why not an evolving, bubbling, budding, splitting, quantum-branching multiverse, one that layers impossible complexity on top of impossible complexity?

On the one hand, that would be wildly dizzying, a yawning chasm in which no one view of creation could ever claim ultimate purchase.

On the other hand, well, at least it would mean science would never run out of ways to keep itself occupied, like a dog let off the leash into an endless field filled with squirrels.

"Go get 'em," says the Creator.  God can be cool like that.