Secondhand Prayer: I Prayed to the God-Monster Under My Bed

Miracle Girl: Secondhand Prayer: I Prayed to the God-Monster Under My Bed

I prayed to a god I didn't believe in as a child because he had become the monster under my bed. I also learned that fear of Hellfire is a communicable disease.

It was a crazy, mixed up kind of secular childhood.

God Help Me…or Not

Miracle Girl: God Help Me…or Not

Do theists really believe I need God's help to heal my broken shoulder? Isn't that what the special sling is for?

 

Waiting to be examined in Urgent Care in the simple cloth sling the Getty first aid people put on.

Disarmed and Dangerous (At Least to Myself)

Back in a wheelchair, temporarily, as I waited for paramedics in the first aid station of the Getty Center after the fall.

Miracle Girl: Disarmed and Dangerous (At Least to Myself)

My bet is on my sling healing my broken arm, not God. Modern medicine already repaired my dislocated shoulder.

Yes, it does hurt like shit.

Born Free (of God)

The Secular Spectrum: Born Free (of God)

Though I was raised as an agnostic, when I was about 10, I began praying silently before bed:

Now I lay me down to sleep,I pray the Lord my soul to keep,If I should die before I wake,I pray the Lord my soul to take.

I must've picked it up from TV or the movies. The reason I was doing this wasn't because I had secretly become religious. I interpreted the prayer as a threat that God might kill you in your sleep if you didn't pray to him.

God was the boogeyman, the monster under my bed.

I also deeply feared Bloody Mary, which Dale McGowan amusingly recalls in his latest post. To me, both God and Bloody Mary were equivalent--demons to be feared. If God didn't get me, the ground might open up and Devil would suck me into the bowels of Hell.

Though I was a fearful child, I was able to shake this strange habit for a girl who would mouth the prayers she was forced to recite before lunch in school. (Both events happened when I lived in Birmingham, Alabama.)

One day, I thought, "This is silly. I don't even really believe in God. I should stop this."

I didn't gather up the courage right away, but eventually I stopped praying to the imaginary killer in the sky.

My fate is in my hands

Yes, that's my hand and my keychain Magic 8-Ball.

I have written about this before, but I think that my atheism has helped drive my recovery.

Sure, my stubbornness has something to do with it--don't tell me I can't walk!--but knowing there's no one out there who's going to make things better makes me do it for myself.

I realize that believers find praying to God comforting. And they keep waiting and waiting for God to pick up the message.

I guess he screens his calls.

A famous large study of heart patients showed that patients who knew they were being prayed for actually did worse than those who weren't prayed for.

But like people relying on Magic 8-Balls, believers keep shaking that ball, waiting for it to say something other than...

ANSWER HAZY TRY AGAIN

They've all heard the canard that God helps those who help themselves--I wonder why that is?--but they still wait for the great big genie in the sky to make it better for them.

CONCENTRATE AND TRY AGAIN

But since I don't believe there's anyone up there, I know I have to rely on myself. My recovery won't happen on it's own.

IT IS CERTAIN

And there's a comfort in knowing that I have my fate in my own hands. The faithful are always excusing life's misfortunes by saying God works in mysterious ways.

BETTER NOT TELL YOU NOW

Well,  I don't have some fickle deity deciding to give me yet another bout of Legionnaires' disease because he woke up on the wrong side of the cloud.

MY ANSWER IS NO

I slowly weaned off prednisone early last year , so I'm no longer as immune-suppressed as I was. (My methotrexate also has immunosuppressive properties, but it's not coincidental that I haven't had a bout of pneumonia since I went off prednisone in late January of 2015.)

IT IS CERTAIN

I'm continuing to exercise on the stationary bike six times a week and hike once a week, not to mention my physical therapy exercises. I keep escalating the difficulty of the hikes. Indeed, the hike this Monday at Rocky Peak Park was the hardest yet (post and Tumblr link are forthcoming).

When I was a toddler, I had a shoestring with some large beads. I would chew on the ends of the lace, so they were rather frayed. I couldn't get one of the beads on, and I was getting red in the face with frustration. My mother took it from me. She was about to string it on for me when I grabbed it back, and said, "Me do it!"

I'm still like that when I feel frustrated. But when I see myself climbing new heights, I can say,

"Me did it!"

Will I recover the rest of my physical abilities without recourse to a higher power?

OUTLOOK GOOD

Isn't There Something in the Bible About Lying?

The Secular Spectrum: Isn't There Something in the Bible About Lying?

When I first wrote about the Prevaricating Preacher in Coma Chameleon (here and here), I had to interview Keith and my mom about their encounters with him because I was too busy being comatose at the time these events occurred.

We all learned something.

Keith learned that the clergyman had visited me at least two other times after he promised Keith for the second time to stop bothering me. My mom had no idea that he had promised Keith he would stop coming around.

Far from giving my non-religious loved ones comfort, he made them feel uncomfortable. He also provoked annoyance, frustration, and anger, all in the guise of giving consolation.

"God is Good," But for What?

The Secular Spectrum: "God is Good," But for What?

I suppose you can say that I violated my policy about avoiding offending the religious. But it wasn't deliberate. I had an instant and visceral response when the priest asked me, "Have you thanked God for your life?"

No!

At least, that would've been my response if I could speak. But my trach prevented that, so I responded with as vigorous a head shake as I could managed, considering my weakened state from six weeks of complete immobility.

I didn't mean to offend him, but I'm not sorry about it either. If he had looked at my chart he would've seen that my religion was listed as atheist (not that atheism is a religion, of course).

Because the Bible Tells Me So

The Secular Spectrum: Because the Bible Tells Me So

Some kids feel anxious about their first day in junior high; others are excited. I was a little of both. I had the usual worries about finding new friends, the new teachers, the schoolwork, etc., but I was also eager to be able to stop praying before lunch. I was sure once I left my elementary school, the praying would stop.

This was a major source of anxiety for me as a secular child. I was picked on and/or beaten up on a daily basis, so I couldn't afford for the other kids to know that I wasn't really reciting the words to our lunchtime prayer. So, I mouthed the words, sneaking glances to see if anyone seemed to notice that no sound was coming from my lips. Fortunately, I was never found out.

But in my new junior high homeroom, I chose a desk, put down my book bag, and as I settled into the chair, the teacher asked who wanted to read their favorite passage from the bible.

My heart sank.

I sunk down in the chair and tried to remain invisible. Another girl raised her hand. After the teacher handed her the bible, the girl read. I heaved a sigh of relief.

The same scene repeated every school day until my mother and I moved to LA.

My first Secular Spectrum post

The theme of my first post for the Patheos Atheist Channel group blog The Secular Spectrum will be somewhat familiar to my regular readers, but I took a particularly satirical tack to introduce my story to a unfamiliar readership. It's not hard to satirize the fact that so many believers think God bestowed a miracle upon such a committed atheist. Here's the link: Miracle Girl?

God say me eat COOKIE

Part 3 of a two-part blog about my encounters with nursing home and hospital clergy. I suppose you can call it part 2.1, since it's unpacking the subject of the second blog. I really should stop labeling linked posts with numbers. (Part one.)

Naturally, atheists think they're right about the nonexistence of God and consider the faithful misguided, at the very least. In fact, that's the very word I once used to describe the family members lamenting the fear of the dark they thought was preventing the poor dying girl in my ICU room from "crossing over." The same goes for believers, of course. How can atheists deny the "evidence" of God's work? But what sets the two groups apart? And what was different about the prevaricating hospital chaplain and his probable motivation for his behaviour?

When was the last time you read about a child being killed in an attempt to drive religion out of them? Take your time; I'll wait. In most cases, the adults involved in tragically fatal exorcisms are doing this through love, not malice. But surely it's unfair to link the probably well-meaning mainline Protestant hospital chaplain to such ignorant, fringe religious thinking, you may say. I agree, despite the fact that I snarkily used an image from The Exorcist to illustrate my last blog.

But what links these religiously based behaviours is an absolute conviction of the righteousness of their cause. It's a belief that the ends justify the means, and a faith that God is guiding their actions. Atheists, on the other hand, believe that their own biases and desires are shaping their motivations--duh!--not some outside force. They therefore tend to consider their moral actions with utmost seriousness. Far from being rudderless without God to guide them, it's been my experience that nonbelievers think far more deeply about the consequences of their actions. The faithful are more likely to translate their inner voice as God telling them to do, coincidentally, exactly what they want to do.

That's like Cookie Monster telling himself that God is the voice in his head. God say me eat COOKIE! Nom, nom, nom. An atheist is more apt to be like Oscar the Grouch. I love trash, and that's why I collect it. I don't steal trash from other Grouches because it would be wrong to take their battered and worn sneakers just because they have more holes. They love their ragged or rotten or rusty trash too.

So what does this have to do with our lying cleric? He was probably so convinced that he was doing God's work that anything he did was God's will, even if it involved lying. There was a life at stake, after all. Without God's light, she will surely die. Yes, all of her loved ones but one is a nonbeliever, but keeping me from praying for her is like preventing her doctors from treating her. It's God's will that I pray for her, despite her beliefs and her loved ones' wishes. I'm lying, but it's for the greater good.

Of course, he wasn't doing it for selfish reasons, but the fact remains that he lied because he thought he was doing God's work. God's will gave him him license to do exactly what he wanted to do. What a coincidence. No one thinks they're a bad person, and when they do wrong, they can usually find a handy excuse to justify their actions. But those who believe their actions are guided by a higher power don't even recognize that it's an excuse, however justified. To them, it's a command from God. They chomp down on that cookie, convinced all the while that it's not because me love COOKIES.

It happens

Last Sunday, on my rehab walk. I used to need Keith to help me down steps without rails. On most steps, I don't need to go sideways anymore, but these were kind of steep.

I've talked about my resilience and the equanimity in which I've faced the countless tribulations related to my illnesses and recovery. These qualities seem to surprise many people, most of them believers. I've also discussed the varied lessons nonbelievers and the religious might take from my recovery. But what about the different ways the two groups react to similar trials in their lives? What role did that play in my attitude?

I can't presume to speak for believers, but from the outside, they seem to react first with prayer. I know the idea that God will save them from whatever terrible battle they face, or at least give them the strength to cope with it, is immensely comforting to them. But they're more likely to wonder if God is punishing them for something, as well. The things believers say to each other in times of trial tend to reinforce this way of thinking. God is trying to teach you something. God doesn't give you any burdens you can't handle. Or, the ever popular, it's all in God's plan. And even if they don't worry that it's a punishment, God is still doing this to them. Everything happens for a reason, as people so often say. I would take that kind of personally, myself.

One thing I've always wondered about prayer is, why is it even necessary? Surely the all-knowing God is aware that you don't want this cancer, autoimmune disease, or whatever. Will he only heal you if you beg? And if it's just that he needs to ensure that you're sufficiently devout, then isn't the affliction a form of blackmail?

Atheists and skeptics, on the other hand, are more likely to research their conditions to better understand what's going on, acting to improve their odds in some way. For example, the first thing I did when it looked like I almost certainly had dermatomyositis was schedule cancer screenings due the increased cancer risk associated with DM. I received my first abdominal ultrasound on the same day I got the official diagnosis from my rheumatologist. I've been getting the tests on a regular basis because I'm still in the 2-3 year period of elevated risk. It's quite unpleasant, but not compared to ovarian cancer detected too late. I won't even go into the colonoscopy (hint: the preparation was the worst part).

Nonbelievers also don't waste much time wondering why this is happening to them. Why? Because the universe doesn't care a whit about your existence. You're not even a pimple on the ass of the universe. And, at any rate, the universe can't do anything but expand endlessly, or eventually contract into the Big Crunch. Sounds like a candy bar, doesn't it?

This philosophy can be strangely comforting, actually. You haven't done anything to deserve this; it has nothing to do with you. As a great philosopher once said, "Shit happens." Unshitty things happens too. The nice thing about randomness is that any time things can turn around again. To the extent you can control things, your fate is in your own hands. And the only lessons you'll receive are the ones you choose to take from your experience. I've learned a great deal from my strokes and coma, but it all comes from nearly dying and my struggle to recover. In truth, I'm teaching the lesson to myself. My experiences were simply the coursework.

But at least the religious believe that if they die they're going to heaven, crossing that rainbow bridge to meet their lost pets and their dead loved ones in their exclusive heavenly Club Med. Yup, you've got me there. I think I'm going into the ground and the only thing I'll see are the worms eating my flesh. Only I won't be seeing them because I will be dead as a coffin nail.

And that's my point. I have no choice but to soldier on, accept what's happened, and do the best to conquer my obstacles. No one was going to make me walk again, just as nothing can save me from my ultimate doom. That's why I want to do whatever I can to make that eventuality as far off as possible. Shit happens, so watch your step.