Glows Like God
My daughter has to write a "testament of faith" and
read it aloud to her Theology class. She's reading me
her speech. She says she lost it -- her faith -- somewhere
along the way, that she and God (an Old Testament
father) had a falling out, or, better, a falling away, the
first time in the third grade, and then again later, and
try as she might, she can't believe in a Force that makes
so many who need him the most, who pray to him daily,
suffer, she can't love a god who denigrates women, she
can't put her faith in a man who whispers to Abraham:
kill your son, or who tests his most faithful to win a bet.
Or who inspires such murderous hatred that no one
inside or outside of His sainted circle is really safe.
"I don't believe in God, though I've tried, but that
doesn't make me an immoral person," she says, her
voice quavering. "I try to do good, every day. I try
every day to be the best person I can be to the people
around me." My daughter has been thinking this
speech for over a week. My daughter has been speaking
these words in her head for years. I can tell that she's
afraid that people she loves will love her just a bit less
after she labels herself an atheist. But her voice gathers
strength, and depth, and her head rises from her body
with honest pride, and her face glows with a righteous
shine that reminds me of God, the closest I'll ever get to
It -- a pure and disinterested Love, the light between atoms.
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