Hello,
I consider myself a person of relatively strong faith. Strong enough that I can admit it to you without feeling a sense of guilt or shame. To be transparent, I believe in no one specific God or higher will for mankind, but nonetheless, still in a God. I choose to believe because I am afraid of what might become of me after death. I’ll admit that to you right now. I’m scared of dying without a God waiting for me in my final breaths. I can’t say I’m in love with God, that I worship with all my being, or that I’ve fully appreciated my existence. I’m just so frightened of encountering existential hell upon departing this life. It’s a common fear amongst us humans, that I am certain of. It’s just that some individuals find it easier to quelch their dismay with trust in biblical doctrines. If we are wrong about God, then no harm shall visit us. We will all die and the void will gladly welcome us back home. But if we are right, who wouldn’t want the almighty on their side? I may not be in love, but I have a love for God. Just in case.
I bet you’re wondering what I’m getting at with all this. I’ll go ahead and warn you now. If you are uncomfortable with God and religion being questioned, do not continue reading this post.
If you’ve chosen to stick with me on this, thank you. You must possess a realist view of life. To legitimately accept God, he/she/it must absolutely be questioned. A truly omnipotent being would have no qualms addressing the curiosities of its creations. How could it? You can’t administer free will and not expect rebellion at some point. It is a natural occurrence of life as we understand it. No parent can assuredly expect zero resistance from their children. How would they ever blossom into individuals if they did not seek mutinous perspectives, or have doubts about parental methods? I have openly questioned my parents without remorse throughout my life. And it certainly has not made them love me any less. This is the origin of body, soul, and mind. And God surely recognizes this about us. At least it seems apparent to me that it does.
Here, I state opposition against my creator. Not yours, or the universes. Only mine. To whatever it is that had the foresight to generate my life’s unfolding, you’ve done a tremendous job at contributing to my anguish. And I am having a hell of a time accepting you for it. Only you and I will ever share the extent of my psychopathic cerebral skirmishes. It’s as if you hand carved the ridges of my brain to best suit your almighty dejection. You’re sick. To denounce me with such disdain. And yet, I still have a love for you.
I frequently worry about unintentionally upsetting God, but what of my state? I know God cares for me, so why does it allow such injustice? And what of wavering faith? Why are we all expected to not question God? Why would anything follow another without questioning all parties involved? How is blind faith the answer to our misery? No constant trajectory can yield positive or negative results. I unconditionally detest steadfast faith. If faith is rigid and unequivocal, what can it teach us? What value does life, God, or anything for that matter possess? A father and mother are of no value if they cannot rebuff a child’s mistakes. They must teach us rejection, so that we may one day grow strong enough to survive without their guidance. But God has not even done this for us! How naïve can we be to not observe this? Where is it? And what is it doing that is so great, to ignore me! Has God become tired of me? Has it abandoned me in the shell of a hermit? I’ll tell you; it certainly feels like it right now. Abandonment to me is a human-on-human dispute. Not a godly one.
Why is faith supposed to be the end all be all answer to my troubles? I always hear, “have faith,” and it makes me wince. I’m tired of depending upon faith for my stability. It is not fair. Lately, mania has run rampant during the fall season of my spiritual harvest. My constant thoughts have manifested intensive head pressure and pulsing swells in my temples. My closed eyelids have projected so many horrid schemes that my optical blood vessels have become serpentine in structure, a looming warning sign of high blood pressure. My heartache is so candid that my chest has rotated inward, to conceal vital trauma. And self-doubt has rendered my legs numb from toe to hip. Afraid to proceed even one step in the wrong direction. I am at the moment, anxiety incarnate. Just when I start to feel, it all goes numb.
Crippled as I may currently be though, I do recognize that these feelings will pass in time. And I honestly do identify that my life is one to cherish. It just seems pointless at times to place so much trust in a being that cannot be concretely identified. And hypocritically, when times are wonderful, it makes perfect sense to adorn God with praises and worships. But I suppose that’s why we aren’t Gods. Or at least we aren’t presently aware that we are. We aren’t to assume the responsibility of God, only to participate as pawns in its divine will. All in due time I presume.
In the meantime, I will continue to dwell in this personal hell God has devised for me, as I know it will soon pass just as quickly as it approached. Am I happy about it? No. Do I want to live each day witnessing parts of me slip away? No. But if it is the holy will of my architect, I will persist. It may be the will of God, but it is the will of ME to sing dissatisfaction! If I am to be ostracized for giving voice to my concerns, so be it. Love me, or damn me to hell. It is utterly repulsive to make such a statement, but it is heartfelt. I know, without a fraction of a doubt that my earthly parents would never condemn me for articulating my feelings. Therefore I am certain that my god wouldn’t. It created me. How could it ever be offended by or sensitive to my discourse? I do not believe that God is involved in a power struggle with me. Our relationship isn’t predicated on fear or eternal fire. It is open for communication on both sides. There shouldn’t be any alternative to this structure. If I were a God of immeasurable potential, It would be my wish for my creations to adopt me out of love and understanding. Not out of the fear that I may smite them down. How ghastly it must be to worship out of dread and blind faith. No momentous relationship of any kind can be assembled this way. What I’m trying to say is this. Question the almighty, so as to gain a deeper understanding of its purpose. Don’t take the shot in the dark when you can wait for the sun.
At the beginning of this post, I relayed to you that I am afraid of encountering existential hell upon arriving at death’s door. It’s hypocritical of me to say we shouldn’t follow God solely out of our fear of eternal torture. But it’s a good starting place to meet god. I think it’s okay to stumble upon the feet of God through fear. But it is ever so imperative to further the relationship by dissolving the weight of terror through open questioning and healthy opposition. That’s what I have done.
Do you know what’s funny about all of this? I oppose blind faith so strongly, and my inner turmoil is literally psychosomatically consuming my eyesight. How poetic huh? Maybe God is trying to give me a hint to knock it off. Or maybe it’s a coincidence. It’s up for interpretation.
I’d like to end this week’s post with the most meaningful string of words I’ve ever heard. They were sung by the band Doosu in their song titled “Sonny,” which happens to be my favorite song of all time.
“Please, has an angel come over to stand on my shoulders, and force me back on my knees?”
God. You know I could use that angel right now. So go ahead and send it my way.
Thank you. I love you all. And yes, God too.
Dan
