There is no hell, but if there was, I’d be going.
Originally published at Megan Lockman. You can comment here or there.
/sigh Every day I wish I could believe in God, but I don’t. And I can’t. I feel like its strange for me to want such a thing. I told Aaron and he was confused by it. I guess I am too. Sitting here watching a sermon on tv and I can feel the love from here. I am glad in a way that I don’t believe. Not because it gives me ‘permission’ to run around and sin. I’m glad I use logic and reason to guide my life. But I think it’s one of those underlying human tendencies to want to know there is some reason why we are here on this planet and to know there is something more powerful than us that loves us and is always being our father looking over our shoulder.
If I believed in God, I would ask somebody to pray for me because my faith is weak. I’m afraid my faith is non-existent and its hard sometimes for me to feel like there’s a point going from day to day when the only thing to live for is myself. From what I have heard, the point of life as a Christian is to live and serve the Lord, among other things. But the higher purpose is to be good and love the Lord and when you die you go to heaven. There is an end goal. As a non-believer, I believe my body goes in the ground when I die and that’s it. There’s nothing guiding my actions except sympathy and empathy towards others, and my own desires.
I have no reason to want to live other than there’s stuff I would like to do, like go to an amusement park or paint. Without activities, without people to love, my life is meaningless. And when my friends don’t need my love or don’t want my love, what is there?
As I see it, there is no hell. But if there was, I would be going because I have led a life of what Christians consider sin. To me, I’ve been having fun and gaining experience in life. Not that all the experience has been positive. There are things I regret. I’ve done things, especially recently, that I really shouldn’t have. Unfortunately, some of those actions have negatively impacted certain aspects of my life and now I wish I could take back what I did. Ultimately it was my decision to let those things happen, but it was detrimental in more ways than one. At first I didn’t regret it at all because I enjoyed myself and I consider enjoying yourself important. It’s the after effects that make me regret it. I’ve set myself back a little with Aaron, and it could take a while to get us back to where we were. And things between me and a friend haven’t been ideal.
I know I haven’t explained in detail what I did that screwed thing up and I have no intention of telling anybody unless they ask. But it’s frustrating.