Dear God,
Not knowing things sucks. Did you know that? I suppose so, because you’re said to be all-knowing and all-seeing. I’m not, however... I don’t know if you’re real. I don’t know if I love you. I just don’t know, and is that a sin?
I can’t bring myself to say this to anybody but you, but the whole idea of church seems like one big scam; another corrupted place of power and wealth, built upon wonderful men like Jesus and Mohammad, whose words of wisdom were twisted and splintered to support the church’s will. I’ll spare you the list of wrongs in the Old Testament, how many people have died from religion, and the fact that the Earth is round, because this isn’t a letter on whether or not the church is or was right. I could care less, because I already have my belief, which, of course, you know... I could care less about the church.
My parents say that they found you when they grew older because later in life they needed something to lean on. Is it wrong to say “screw it” and that I’ll lean on my friends here on Earth, people I can actually see and touch? God, I can feel you, but is it really you? Only you know.
The rest of us are still guessing.
It’s hard for me to state that I don’t believe in you, as if I’m sentencing myself to a fiery, painful eternity when I do. Maybe it’s the peer pressure keeping me from declaring all-out that you’re not real. You’re a Santa Claus. I can’t break the spell when so many others are enthralled in your existence.
One last reminder before I continue upon my journey of life alone (does a God need reminding?): I won’t beg for forgiveness from an empty sky. However, I’m a good person. Does a good person deserve Hell? Would I still be on your naughty list just for not believing?
Well, it’s good of you to read this and to understand why I don’t believe in you. Thanks for your time!
Sincerely your, and honored to speak to you,
Kevin
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