If I didn't Believe in God...

By: Devin Flewell

I was thinking today what my life would be like if I didn’t believe in God. ..I think life would be great! As a Pastor, or just simply as a Christian, much of my life revolves around what God wants me to do. I wake up in the morning to my cell screeching its ring tone, a pleasant reminder that there is yet another person in my church that needs a prayer or needs some sort of council or just needs to know that God is with them. Somehow talking to a Pastor helps them realize that. If I didn’t believe in God, my phone would not ring so early, and I wouldn’t have to answer it with a groggy voice trying to convince the person on the other end that “oh no I was just about to get up anyway…” when in fact I wasn’t. I could sleep until I really had to get up, and wouldn’t have to listen to everyone’s complaints or think of a solution in the wee-groggy hours of the morning squinting to the light of my bedside lamp.
If I didn’t believe in God, I would have a clear conscious when I walked by people who don’t matter. I hate coming home after running errands downtown and feeling bad for the destitute man who sprayed his alcohol stained breath into my face in an attempt to ask for spare change. We both know that I was playing with a coin in my pocket before he asked, but why should I be the one to part with my coffee change. It will for sure be put to better use by me than the ratty man who had the nerve to ask for it. So why can’t I just ignore him? Everyone else does, and everyone expects me to do so too. People seem more annoyed by my giving, than by the one interrupting the pleasant street corner and the pleasant lives of the ones who actually belong there. Why do I have to give up my coffee for such a pointless cause?
If I didn’t believe in God, I could do what I really, really wanted to do. I don’t even know where to begin with this! The possibilities are actually endless! I could watch any TV program or movie that I wanted. I hate feeling bad when there is an “inappropriate” scene on TV. I hate being the one that “goes to the washroom” when these very normal situations flash across the flat screen leaving shadows dancing on the walls. The worst is when sexuality is splashed on the big screen, and it seems that I am the only one in the theatre that looks down at my shoes, which I can’t even see because it is so dark…what’s the point at looking at my shoes if I can’t even see them! Why am I the only one in the theatre that feels he needs to look at his shoes? Oh, if only I didn’t believe in God.
Now, if I didn’t believe in God, I could cuddle up close to someone at night. Why does a good guy like me have to spend all his nights alone, his days alone…pretty much up to this point, his LIFE alone? Even if I know that the woman I am interested in won’t be my wife someday, what’s the harm in getting physically close to her until we part ways? I don’t get it. I’m sure it would be better than cuddling up to my lifeless pillow, making sure not to use all the blankets just in case someday I do get married; it’ll be nice if I already know how to share! Who does that? What is wrong with me? If I didn’t believe in God, I wouldn’t be such a loser.
So why do I believe in God? I guess the question is not why do I believe in God, but why do I love a God that forces me to do such ridiculous things? I feel like I am being trained for a new job and my supervisor is constantly looking over their shoulder telling me that I am doing everything wrong. I hate that feeling. Is it possible to do anything right? I hate the uniform my overbearing boss makes me wear. The nametag matches my uniform famously, it says: “My name is Devin. Please bear with me as I have no idea how to live life because I always do something wrong according to God. I hope I don’t screw up too badly in front of you and embarrass myself” Ok, maybe that would have to be a t-shirt, but you get the point. I think life would be easier if I didn’t have to wear this stupid uniform, if I didn’t believe in God, and especially if I didn’t love him.
Well, now that I don’t love God…hmmm I could do all the things that I have always wanted to do and not feel bad! But, than again why would I want such a thing? God does love me doesn’t he? Doesn’t he want the best for me? Didn’t he make me for a specific purpose; give me qualities and talents that I could use to excel in life? Doesn’t he know my thoughts, and my struggles? Doesn’t it say somewhere that he knows the amount of hairs on my head, and bottles every tear I shed…or want to shed because real men don’t cry they just cuddle up to their fluffy pillows at night. God sounds more like a crazy stalker that wears aviator glasses than a God that loves. Or maybe God is so passionately in love with me that he still wants me to tell him about my day even though knew what would happen before I woke up. Hmmm, how can someone who loves me so much make me feel so bad about doing things that everyday normal people do? It doesn’t seem right.
Maybe the things that I want to do are in fact not so normal. Maybe God made people so that they can be holy and free from guilt. Maybe he made me with the intention of perfection. Maybe that’s the way he sees me. Who else would collect the pouty tears of a full grown man that just wants to give up? I know I wouldn’t. Maybe he actually feels the pain, and understands what is in that tear. Maybe he understands how hard it is to stand for something when everyone else has run right by. Maybe he understands how hard it is to listen to an irrational person on the phone who probably won’t take your advice anyway. Maybe he knows what it is like to leave when inappropriate images come on TV. Do you think he knows what it is like to sacrifice coffee money on someone who will waste it? Is it possible that he knows what it is like to lay awake at night wishing he had someone to hold? I don’t think he does…
But then again, a frequent prayer of mine is made by looking angrily toward heaven and asking God to show me exactly what to do; but then am too busy focusing poor little me, that even when he does answer I am still ranting and miss everything. Or how many times have I asked for the Range Rover that zoomed by my dilapidated Oldsmobile. I know that life would look so much better through the windows of that Range Rover…I know it’s stupid, but I still spit those requests out like a mad man looking for his next fix. And how many times have I broken his heart when I choose to spend an hour during prime time watching things that he hates? He has just left me sprawled out on the couch with my BBQ chip crumbs and my half empty glass of chocolate milk while he “went to the washroom”; being too hurt to even think about coming back to join me. And while I lay awake in bed at night, cuddled up to my pillow all I can think about is what I want, what I need, and why I have to live by all these rules. I do not even notice that all these dumb rules I made up myself. I can’t even see that all these rules that I made and blame God for are the same rules that I am breaking. All I can see is how lonely my life is, how empty my bed is, and how blurry even the darkness becomes when tears start to form. Do I really want to spend my life living in this guilt and loneliness? Why do I do this to myself? What is the point?
Sometimes when I stand vulnerably under the steady stream of hot water gushing out of my leaky shower head everything makes sense. Besides the sound of rushing water, there is silence. Silence in my mind, silence in my heart, and silence in what I see. I can finally step out of the prison of my mind. Only then is when I see God so close that he is able to catch a tear before it streams down my cheek and is forever lost in the chaos of rushing water. I can feel his fingers gently moving though my hair; as if he was counting each one and telling me his is right there that he will stay forever.
Am I really all alone? Does he really know what it is like to be me? Why does he stick around and love me despite how much I have hurt him?
Next time I answer a frantic phone call in the middle of the night, my bedside lamp will cast a light that can penetrate the soul, even if the other end is too busy ranting to notice. Someday they might. This is how Christ showed he loved me. Next time that nobody on the street corner asks me for change, I will stop—not just because my conscious tells me to, but because Christ did for me when I felt like a nobody. Next time the tantalizing shadows from a TV screen dance on the walls, I hope I have the courage to leave, even when no one else will. I would rather spend a moment with my Savoir, than spending time with the things he hates. And next time I lay awake at night, I will realize that my Creator is there, wanting me to talk to him to tell him what the desires of my heart are. He loves me and wants to hear about my dreams so that he can make them come true.
It’s not guilt that makes me do the things I do, it’s because of a love that I don’t deserve. A love that is poured over me like a million drops of steamy water. I have to pass it on, not to whom I choose, but to whomever I meet.
If I didn’t believe in God, I would miss out in all the love that he has for me. I don’t want to miss out in that—do you?

Article Source: http://www.articles.narrowisthepath.com

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