Thoughts of A Dying Atheist

No, I'm not an atheist.
God does exist. It doesn't make sense to say that He doesn't. There's just too much proof.

However, over the last couple of months I've struggled with this terrible thing that I do: thinking too much about unanswerable questions. It's so dangerous for people like me (people who can say, 'hey, brain, slow your roll!' a million times and it never makes a difference) to get hung up on tiny details that can't be fixed or, transversly, massively mind-blowing questions that can only be answered by God.
My biggest problem is that I've been in a weird sort of in-between state that sucks even more than depression. It's as though I know that I've got some very big decisions to make, but I'm really hesitant to make those decisions. It's a dangerous game I'm playing. I recognize that.

For example, I need to decide once and for all what I believe about God, and Christianity, and everything that my life has been built upon thus far. I've spent the last few months living pretty much as if I don't buy any of it. Don't get my wrong, I've not done anything terribly illegal or outlandishly wild; I simply seperated myself from my faith for a while. It actually scared me, when I stepped back to look at how I got here, how very simple it was to do so.

And guess how much good it's done me. Just guess; you'll probably hit the nail on the head...

Essentially, since I've come home from school, I've had this terrible attitude about everything. I found myself feeling contempt for things that I always accepted before, and it was actually very difficult for me to admit to myself that it really was contempt. It took several discussions with my parents, who certainly aren't perfect but do a pretty damn good job, for me to realize that I have been more selfish and rude to them than ever before. I didn't want it to be true when my mother accused me of never wanting to be with my family or scorning everything we've always stood for, but when I looked at myself honestly, I saw that it was true.

This uncertain time has taught me that when I seperate myself from God as fully as I've done, nothing but immaturity and coldness comes from it. But I'm seeing, also, that it's much harder to come back to what is good once you've been all but consumed by darkness.

However, there was one thing that I gathered that was more beneficial than anything else. I mentioned that I held pretty much everything that I'd believed before in contempt, and that included myself.
It is intersting here to note that the sort of "contempt" I was harboring was really just a projection of the intense uncertainly and fragility of my state of mind. I wasn't sure about anything anymore, and I didn't know how to handle anything gracefully, so I did a 180 and messed everything up.
Needless to say, I was disgusted to find that all that time when I was so sure of myself, so sure of what I believed and what was right - all that time I was being so judgmental that my own sister and brother didn't feel like they could talk with me honestly about what they were going through. And they were right. I wouldn't have known how to handle it, would have judged them harshly (perhaps without meaning to, but still...) and I would have immediately tried to give them advice that would be more hurtful than helpful.
In this, I believe that I have changed for the better.

Just this morning, there was a wonderful thunderstorm - the kind that makes curling up in a warm, soft bed while listening to the thunder and rain seem like heaven - and I thought of God. I hadn't prayed, much less opened my Bible, in quite some time. (When I say that I seperated myself, I mean pretty much completely.)
But, listening to the rain, I couldn't help it. I thought of God, and I thought of the people in my life who meant so much to me, the people I haven't seen in a while and the people that I've hurt. I thought of how selfishly and immaturely I've been living my life lately, and for the first time in a long time, I felt grief at what I had done. Remorse.

Then, on my way to work, I listened to David Crowder's version of "All Around Me," and I felt something, a glimmer of hope for mercy I don't deserve.
Now I sit here pouring out my soul, wondering if I can fix my life and yet knowing that I can't do it by myself. Like I said, I've got some big, potentially life-altering decisions to make. But because God is so mysteriously willing to pour grace over my life, in this moment I am not afraid.

Maybe I'll make the right decision, after all.