The Savior

When I was a child, my father made me attend Catholic church every weekend and religious classes one night a week.

It was torture.

I was baptized, went through Communion, memorized the book of prayers he handed me, and did the rest of the Catholic rituals, but I always wondered why?

I would sit in church, my eyes wandering around the room, wondering why was I here?

If there was a God, why couldn't I see him, but he could see everything I did?

If there was a God, why must I go to confession, if he already knew the sins I’d committed?

And, how was it possible that he had time to watch everyone else if he was always watching me?

As I grew older, the questions continued to grow,  as I drifted farther and farther away from the idea of ever believing in religion.

I try not to think about religion to often, because I rarely like where my mind takes me.

If there is a God, why do we lose our lives at the hands of others?

If there is a God, why has he turned his cheek on the starving and the diseased?

I just can't seem to understand, if there is a God, why must humanity suffer so?

Dear God, if you’re there, why aren’t you answering peoples’ prayers?

And God, if I have your attention, whose prayers will you answer, since everyone claims you belong solely to his or her religion?

If we are your children God, and the human race is as selfish, self-centered, destructive and violent as it appears to be, then what does that say about your parenting?

Religion is like being in a toxic relationship. People stay in it because they are too scared to see who they can be on their own after the breakup. They’re too scared to leave the side of the person they think they love, even if that person divides them from others and boxes them into a naïve little world. They depend on the false sense of security that it provides.

What a beautiful world this would be if people just loved others the way they want to be loved. What a beautiful world this could be if we didn't find ways to build walls between our neighbors and us. Imagine if everyone was a good person, because it felt right in his or her heart.

Why is it so hard to simply believe in the beauty that is before you? The trees, the ocean, the sky, the stars, everything in this magical world we have been so fortunate to be a part of. Why are we not content with what we have, but rather find solace in the belief that a God created it? That this big powerful man would go through all that trouble, just for us. Why is it so difficult for people to believe that maybe the world just… is.