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Better without God

This essay was written for the United Coalition of Reason’s Good without God Essay Contest

The rules of the contest stipulated it had to be 500 words or less in length.  I found it difficult to express so much in so few words, but here it is.

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As a college sophomore diagnosed with Crohn’s disease, I thought life would continue as planned, but that was not to be the case. My college degree was hard won, but I had not double majored as I wanted and graduated a year late. I found a job, but within six months, I was too ill to continue working. All I ever wanted was to be independent, but at the age of 24, I moved back in with my parents.

I felt defeated and depression followed, but I vowed I would take this time to investigate careers that would be satisfying and suite me physically. I was climbing my way back up when the unthinkable happened. My father died.

I was devastated. I had always thought of myself as my father’s daughter. He was a best friend. We’d share movies and books and discussed politics and religion. This was the point I started to give up.

I had been a resolute Agnostic. But everything I was had been stripped from me. Crohn’s took my health and independence. Depression took my hope and creativity. I was no longer my father’s daughter. I didn’t know who I was or what I believed in.

One might say I had a “crisis of Agnosticism.”

I kept hearing that “there’s a reason” and I wanted to find it. I searched everywhere for answers. Friends and family were giving me religious books from Chicken Soup for the Soul to The Secret. But, just as in childhood, these answers seemed shallow and insulting.

During this time, I visited my grandfather whose health had been declining. God was talked about often. The more I visited, the more I realized that religion was in direct conflict with the reality of their emotions. They said he would be at peace when he died, but they forced medication that kept him alive, but in pain. I loved my grandfather. He was tired, he had a good life, but he was ready to rest. I wanted to be there when he died to say good bye to him honestly, without any illusion that we would meet again in heaven. When he died, I was there. A Catholic funeral was held, and I took communion for the last time.

I had come to a conclusion: it was not enough for me to say “I don’t know.” I had to say “I do not believe.” I would not credit god for all that is good or bad. Tragedy is sad enough without also having to believe it was purposeful. All the good and beauty in the world is still so without god’s design.

It was like a great weight was lifted off my shoulders because there was no one to blame, nothing to be angry at, and nothing to fear. I will live my life as best I can. I am responsible for so much, but the rest is chance. And if chance appears cruel, I can smile with the knowledge that it isn’t personal.

Rachel Surface

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