Non-Atheism

Atheism has always puzzled me. Maybe it's because I was raised fairly hard-core catholic (I don't consider myself to be nearly so catholic these days), but I personally can't fathom a world without some sort of God/Creator. I can't possibly go into the woods, or look up at the stars, or find someone that I connect so inexplicably well with, and NOT think that it was all somehow made by something. Of particular puzzlement are atheist fatalists. If they believe in fate, that our entire lives are already mapped out and free will is just an illusion, ... WHO DO THEY THINK MAPPED IT OUT?!

I type all of this because I know God exists. Not 'believe;' not 'trust;' I know one does. I know because I've spoken with him no less than three times. And I don't mean that I hear voices in my head. (I mean, I do, but those are the ones telling me to kill all my guy friends so that there are more women for me. That's not God; that's just my Id.) But I've felt overwhelming positive emotions that were not my own during times of great stress and reflection. The first was long ago, back in the days I went to church at least quasi-regularly. I can't remember what I was depressed or upset about, but I remember turning my head to the side of the church, and sunlight just shone through the window, and I started crying (that's actually been the common reaction to all three experiences). I had no reason, it was just sunlight; but somehow there was a presence there, assuring me that things would be fine.

The second time (that I can remember) involved when I was having a hard time with a friend of mine (among other things). I felt like his attitude was so self-serving and self-pitying and self-loathing that I couldn't be friends anymore, and that his feelings were so ingrained in his nature that I couldn't help him with them either (despite my best efforts). In this particular instance, I tried meditating to come to a solution, but at some point during my meditation, I considered what it would be like to actually converse with God about the problem. And I envisioned him sitting in chair in front of me, and I began to hold what I very much felt was a dialogue with him. I didn't so much "hear" his answers to my unspoken questions or thoughts; rather I just felt/thought the replies. But I distinctly remember that there were answers, and that they were phrased from a first person point of view (His). Again, tears came, in this case because the compassion and forgiveness emmanating from the presence was so overwhelming, that what I'd often considered to be the good amount of compassion that I posess was belittled.

The most recent time was just this week. I was having a terrible time over a woman, and the short version is that now is not the right time for us, and I felt like I either had to risk getting into some severe trouble because of her, or else try to be something I wasn't. Neither choice seemed the right one, but I was (am) so enrapt with her, that I felt like those were my only two options. Seeking council, I went to church hoping to find a confession time in the near future. When there weren't any, I simply went into the chapel to pray by myself. I wasn't in there for more than 5 seconds when I started to cry. (This time, it was a blend of everything from feeling guilty for having been away so long, feeling loved as though I was reunited with my parents after a long journey, and feeling hope that things would be fine.) And, again, I prayed, and again, the answers came to me. My dilemma existed because of two reasons. 1) I was afraid to lose this girl, and it was making me act in ways contrary to my nature. 2) I wanted to feel like she somehow needed me, and that she wouldn't be able to get by without me. And in praying, I realized that neither of those are good feelings to have. She will most certainly be okay without me for a while, and although I don't want to lose her, I can't be afraid of it to such a degree that I lose myself. And so I felt renewed and revived, and I've been in much better spirits ever since.

So I can assure you, my friends, that God does exist. I can't prove it to you, any more than you could prove you love your significant other, or that the world you live in is anything more than a dream. But I know he exists. And for those of you who are willing to walk halfway and believe, I'm willing to bet that He'd meet you halfway and reveal himself.