I'm a very deep person. I like when things make sense. As a child, I was given significantly more spankings because I was always questioning, wondering, and asking "Why?". Curiosity defines me.
At the time when I had defined myself as a Christian, my walk with God was kinda like this:
Your mom and her friend both have daughters the same age, you and...let's call her Jessie. Because they are such good friends, they know the two of you will just have a blast together. They set up numerous play-dates and sleepovers, forcing you two to spend endless amounts of time together. Jessie may be content spending time with you, but you're not really sure about her. She says strange things and often times makes up ridiculous stories that she wants you to believe.
That's essentially how I feel about God.
He is merely a playmate forced upon me by my parents that I would rather not have any part of. Now to tell them would a horrendous thing. "How in the world could you not believe in God? How could you dismiss the miraculous healing of your sister's eye and the many times you have spoken in tongues? What about the day when you were saved? Huh? What about that?" I have found reasonable evidence and concluded that all of these things were possible without there having been a god. Plain and simple. Miracles have taken place through having a particular mindset, speaking in tongues is a delusional, forced habit people experience within the perfect atmosphere, and the video about missionaries in Africa, yeah, the love and compassion for others, humanitarianism appealed to me, and I was just told that that thing that appealed to me was called salvation. At five years old, what did I know the difference?
So thank you, Robert Ingersoll, for consoling me throughout this lonely hardship. It's nice to know there is someone out there, dead or alive, that agrees with me and has the balls to announce it to the whole world through the written word. You rock.
