When My Faith is Shaken

When someone I think is highly intelligent, like Ricky Gervais, talks about evidence and no proof there is a God I feel horrified as I listen, because I don’t want to agree. I don’t want my skeptical brain to concur. Fight against it as I do, I can’t help but agree with logic.

Is this the apple in the garden of Eden? More knowledge equals a more cynical and less innocent being.

Ignorance truly is bliss, which I partly why we all mourn the loss of our childhood days. Where we are certain we will be here for an eternity and have always existed. This certainty gets chipped away with aging and especially if your life feels like it’s filled with bad luck. Those who do well are more inclined to believe in a higher being because everything is already working in their favour.

Life without something bigger is to me a tragedy, no matter how anyone tells me then to make the best of this one. That is depressing. I need more.

I want the signs. I need the miracles. Please greater power out there. Prove scientifically inclined minds wrong.

I just want to know and have that comfort that we are reunited with our loved ones for eternity. Love is the best thing about this life and it is so powerful that it just has to live on.

I need to be able to connect with my Papa. It feels cruel that I’m not given that chance. A Papa who once told me he wanted to be with me after this life. At the time I was stunned and didn’t think much of it as it was connected to religious beliefs (conflicting ones that just added to my confusion and even to my wrath at putting me in this position), but now I’m so glad he needed me and loved me that much. It’s a weird way to reveal your love to your kid, but there it was.

That is why it is faith I guess. Because it is fragile and because it can be shaken. I marvel at the faith of the saints in the past and what they endured.

I need a crutch. Life is too hard.

I want to know there is someone out there looking out for us. Someone we can call on for help. God, the universe or even benevolent aliens.

The universe can’t be this beautiful, marvellous and infinite without something miraculous out there. And that’s my logic speaking. It’s not possible that all this is random.

I am just so confused and weak.

But those may not be my words, but just an echo.

I’m strong enough to relay my truth. And that is something.

Oh to be a little girl again and speak to god (no particular religion, just god my friend?) all the time, and have my prayers answered each time. I was so much happier then. There was comfort even through turmoil.

About bookjunkie

Blogging about life in Singapore & recently cancer too.
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