Every now and then I get letters from well meaning Christians. They tell me how they miss me, how they think about me, how they would love it if I turned back to God. I've come to regard myself as a kind of itch these people feel they need to scratch. I expect they've thought long and hard before putting pen to paper, prayed about it, procrastinated some, before finally plucking up the courage to proceed.
I cannot fault their sincerity. It is genuine and heartfelt, but in all honesty I'm left feeling nothing whatsoever. Sometimes they might tell me what convinces them, or admit to having doubts. Perhaps this is cruel of me, but I simply do not care. If you want to believe this stuff then ok. Believe it, battle with it, party on. You've made a life choice to do that. But I don't have a dog in your fight. I don't have an interest. It's just that simple.
You see, there is no God shaped hole in my heart. No spiritual vacuum. I thirst only to know what's true and honest, which is a space no religion could hope to occupy. Now I know some Christians read my blogs, and to you I say simply the following. I've moved on, grown up, chosen to accept reality as the unsteady and turbulent thing that it is. Happiness and sorrow will be my companions through this life, good fortune and poor fortune will accompany me to various degrees. Your God is of no interest to me, and your concern is wasted. You see, I just can't shirk the conviction that what you believe is silly. Silly and nonsensical, and I cannot in good conscience pretend otherwise. I accept that people get their kicks in different ways, and if religion is one of yours then so be it. But please understand, I am as fulfilled and intellectually nourished as I've ever been. My thoughts are free to engage with the world in all it's awesome splendour. Chain yourself to your dogma if that helps you to get through the day, but do it quietly, privately, and leave me to get on with my life.
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