I was spit out into this bewildering world 58 years ago, and I’ve spent all
that time -- every day, every single waking minute -- trying to make sense of
it. I’ve come to the (somewhat late) recognition that I’ll never figure it
out, never.
I’ll never fathom the reason for the pain I see around me (and feel in my
heart), the human degradation I read about and see on TV, the hurt, the
extreme suffering that pervades everything. I can’t find
a spot anywhere on this tarnished and tawdry plane where a single spark of God resides.
That makes me significantly disappointed in God. I do believe in the
notion of a Godhead, if only in a "first cause" way. I guess I could be
magnanimous and grant Him credit for supplying me with some sort of
genetically unlabeled "hope" that all will be resolved someday; that He is
sustaining me until some time in the undefined future when all the answers
will be revealed. Maybe the feeling is just encoded as a will to procreate --
but I’m way beyond that horrid specter.
I’m frankly losing patience with God. (I kinda think this mode of thinking
is a particularly Hebrew one – although I’m not myself Jewish.) I would curse
God, but I don’t know the proper words to use. Surely there’s a secret
alphabet that deals with this task, some unique Kabala of
admonitory language that can break through the messaging firewalls of Heaven.
Perhaps composed only of consonants, or only of vowels. Maybe I can set a
computer program to the task, and hit upon the right words by random means in
the fullness of time. Only there’s not enough time to tell Him what I really
think of Him. And there’s a lot I’d like to tell Him!
I’d like to complain about the shitty deal of having to die. What’s with
that? And -- if that’s not enough -- for the pain most people suffer when
doing that particular deed.
I’d like to complain about good people getting stomped down by bad ones --
good people that wouldn’t hurt a living soul, that go about their lives with a
sense of ethics, that work hard and do right. Regardless of whether they
believe in You or not.
I’d like to complain about the Earth. Where do You expect us to live,
that’s not exposed to deadly earthquakes, hurricanes, tornadoes, volcanic
eruptions, droughts, floods, invasions from hordes of bugs? Wait, don’t tell
me -- Antarctica?
I’d like to complain about astronomical collisions, stars going supernova,
whole galaxies smushing into each other, destroying worlds, creating billions
upon billions of deaths.
And disease. If I lived for a million years, I could never conceive of more
deadly and innovative diseases as You’ve created. For example, where did You ever get
the idea for passing HIV from monkeys to humans? That was a real stroke
of malicious genius.
Fact is, I think you’ve done a piss-poor job in running Creation -- and I
don’t see anybody calling you on it. You ought to be ashamed. You can
dick around with me like the cockroach I am, but if (as a bug) I had a middle
finger, I’d flash it at you. Yeah, maybe life is cheap in the broad spectrum
of things -- but it’s all we’ve got right now. The will to life is the most
extreme drive we possess. Isn’t that what you gave us, and every other living
creature on this planet? You told us that the majesty of Heaven will make all
this seem like a child’s dream (more like a nightmare, to me), and -- if we’re
very good and believe in You – we’ll spend eternity gladly
prostrating ourselves at Your knee.
Well, let me tell You something here, Bud. It’s going to take a lot more
than that idle promise to make up for the crap You’ve dealt your "prized
creations".
Given all this, it’s no great stretch of the imagination as to why I’m a
Gnostic at my core. In the depths of their hearts, I suspect most people probably
are too. The God who we know, the one whose tiny spark lives inside us, is too
good and too beneficent to have created the awful reality around us. This
venom-filled world has simply got to be
the lowest, most evil emanation from some twisted, perverted offspring of
Yours. And You don’t have a clue as to what’s going on down here now. It's
past time for
You to check up on what’s happening, and retake control before it’s too late. Please!
Before I lose that single brain cell that still believes in You – or is
You.
