An Athiest’s View on God
I’ve always admired people who could find such comfort in something they could never see. People who could invest 100% of themselves into a thing that they’d never receive confirmation of until the absolute moment of wrong or right. I wanted to believe. I so desperately wanted to believe that there was something out there that genuinely wanted the best for me. No hidden fees, no crippling interest on advice. I simply couldn’t afford to invest my time in something with no guarantee of a strong ROI. Our world is ruled by money, and to worship anything else, anything that couldn’t promise financial gain, was ludicrous. Simply illogical.
Why does God desire worship? Why does He demand praise? Why must we bow at His feet and feed the ego of a being who supposedly transcends human desire? If it’s validation he seeks, then He must be insecure. God is not perfect because He was created by humans. It was after this conclusion that the idea of religion was spoiled for me.
I wanted to believe so fucking badly. But I’ve passed by homeless people, starving and shivering in the cold, shaking a cup with loose coins in one hand and preaching the bible in the other. Not a single person stopped to listen. Myself included. Because what was to be gained from listening to the ramblings of someone with less than me? Evidently, God hadn’t saved him from his oh-so-tragic situation. But why should I be the one to save him? Why should I play God as I mockingly search through my wallet to find whatever forgotten cash I had left lurking? Cash that I could’ve saved.
I think, at least partially, I find it arrogant. Arrogant to believe that you are somebody worth saving to an omnipotent, omniscient being. If I were God, I’d be sick to death with all the complaints everyone keeps praying to me about. “I gave you the earth, I gave you freedom, and this is what you did with it, so don’t all turn around and point your fingers at me now. I’m not the one who split the atom. Hell, I didn’t even know atoms could split.
I wouldn’t want to be omniscient either. I had no interest in knowing about your latest love life problems, but here you are praying to me about them. Also, enough with the confession box. Please, stop telling me all the fucked up things you guys have done. It’s seriously not my problem, and the stuff I’m hearing is quite frankly disgusting. Just because I gave you freedom didn’t mean you had to utilise it like that. The whole sex thing. You guys evolved that way beyond what I thought you were going to do. I’m somehow both impressed and terrified. Also, while we’re on the subject, nobody ever invited me for that part. Maybe I’d pick up your calls more often if some of them were booty calls rather than prayers of woe and misery. I know they say if you weren’t invited, don’t go, but I’m starting to feel really left out. It seems that you only ever come crying to me when there’s a problem that you created.”
Anyway, being an atheist, I feel like I’m missing out on some incredible party that everyone else got invited to, but mine got lost in the mail. If God could just prove that He was real, I would be so ready to believe. I’ve asked for a sign before, but He must’ve been busy that day, or maybe I just missed it. If God would just reach out, then maybe we could be friends or something, but I’m so tired of me always being expected to make the effort. Why can’t He reach out once in a while?