In my twentieth year of ministry after a great deal of heartache, I decided to break up with God. However, with a weird duality, I continued to believe in his existence and work for the church. I thought of it as being a divorced parent sharing custody of a child, only I was doing the actual work of caring, whereas he…, well, I don’t know what he was doing. After the breakup, I remained a disillusioned minister for the next fifteen years until I finally stopped believing altogether and found other work.

On an early spring morning in Northwest Oklahoma, I drove to a secluded park far from my home and walked a while until I came to a small clearing. I looked around to make sure I was alone and began to speak the words that would be my last real prayer….

“I’ve been trying to talk with you all my life. How many miles have I paced hoping to hear back from you? How many times have I gone to my knees and bowed my head? How often did I lie on my face begging for your help? 

“I’ve done all the talking but not once have I heard back from you. 

“I did everything I knew to do. I’ve studied the scriptures. I’ve listened to teachers. I’ve looked into the sky and deep into my heart. I even tried fasting. But I never heard from you.  

“As hard as I tried, people will say it’s my fault: that my heart isn’t pure, I’m too selfish, too sinful, that I don’t have enough faith, or that I’m not smart enough. 

“Maybe that’s all true. But it seems to me that a God who is as great as you claim to be ought to be able to find a way to make contact with someone who is trying as hard as I am. 

“I’ve preached that you love everyone but you never loved me. When I was sick, lonely, sad, or scared, I reached for you but you weren’t there. Frankly, I’m embarrassed how often I pretended I could feel your presence. I called it faith.

“Hmph. 

“I gave my heart to you and swore my allegiance to you. But no more. You’re not worth the effort.

“However, I’m still going to take care of your church. I’ve dedicated my life to caring for the people you claim to love. You desert them in their grief, confusion, and despair but I help them to the best of my ability. You let a third of the world starve while I help feed the people in my neighborhoods. You let people get sick and die alone while I sit with them and care for them. I may not claim any special powers as you do but I’m actually doing what I can to help.

“I’m going to keep doing it, too. You do whatever you want which up to now has been nothing. 

“But you and I… we’re done. 

“Amen.”

I walked out of the park, got in my car, and drove home, feeling lighter than I had in years. I continued to be a teacher, helper, and a comforter. I led the public prayers people wanted to hear and I sang songs with them.

But I never gave my heart away again to God, or Jesus, or the Spirit, or whatever. 

Finally… finally…, years later, I quit feeling the pain of rejection when I came to understand and accept that a God who doesn’t exist can’t hurt me.

************

David Mercer is a Humanist Celebrant and calls himself a secular pastor. You can find out more about him at: www.cflfreethought.org/david-mercer