When I was a child my mother taught me
to say a prayer before I went to sleep.
“Now I lay me down to sleep …”
It taught me that my life was fragile,
could be taken away at any moment
and if it happened while I was sleeping
I hoped that God would take my soul
(Me?) and everything would be just fine—
that was, if He decided to take my soul.
(No one mentioned a guarantee.)
It was instructive and comforting … then.
I’ve had a lot of questions since “then”
but I have distilled them all into just one:
“Are You?” That’s it. It’s not complicated.
It’s not deep or profound. It is a simple
question, which remains unanswered.
I went to Sunday School. I was a choir boy.
I studied the Bible in a Methodist prep
school. I read the major philosophers—
consulted others; pastors, priests, thinkers.
I thought about and considered it all
carefully and with great diligence.
Some believers told me that God speaks
with them. I asked them how. “Do you hear
His voice?” They said, “Not exactly, I just
know.” They said, “Pray to Him and ask
him to speak to you.” I said that I had, do,
but He does not speak to me. Some told me
to keep trying, praying, and when I told them
I had tried for many years, they said I needed
to have faith. I had heard that all my life.
“You just need to have faith, Bobby.” But, I
wondered; if having faith—belief—will get
God to talk with me, then who, what else
would talk with me if I had enough faith?
Did having faith make God real? Was He
not real before faith? Where was He before
someone believed in Him?
Some said, “It’s all in the Book of God,
God’s Book. It is all there. You simply need
to believe the words in the Book.” But, I said,
“The Book was written by men who lived
thousands of years ago in a land and in a culture
far different than ours. Is it reasonable to have
faith in these men with whom we have little
in common and about whom we know so little?”
“Well,” they replied, “you see the words are not
theirs, they are the words of God. God spoke to
these men and told them what they should know
and believe and how they must lead their lives.”
“So sayeth the men,” said I.
I asked, “Which is the real Book of God for there
are many.” Each one said, “Mine, the one I believe
in. It is the true Book of God.” My Jewish friends
said that and my Christian friends said that and
my Muslim friends said that and the Rabbis and
Pastors and Imams said that.
I learned that they make war against each other
and slaughter each other to force their beliefs on
each other. That is, except the Jews. Even though
they claimed God first, I learned that they don’t
force their beliefs on anyone. They just ask to be
left alone, which hasn’t worked out well for them.
Some said their God is a god of love.
I then learned that Jews argue among Jews about
what the words in their Books mean and that
Christians and Muslims argue among themselves
over the intent and meaning in their Books.
I asked, “Was God not perfectly clear when He
told these men what they should know and believe
and do? There seems to be a great deal of confusion
about what God said.” They replied, “God was clear.
The imperfect nature of man is the cause of this
confusion.” “Then how can we trust that the words
in the Book of God are the words of God if they were
written by men and men cannot be relied upon?”
I asked.
Once again, I was reassured by each, “You can trust
my Book. It is the Word of God.”