Category: Atheism

Stolen in full from Rosa Rubicondior:

It's quite easy to prove logically that your god doesn't exist.

The proof is a simple deduction from certain basic assumptions which themselves are only assumptions in the sense of assuming the description you use for your god is true in the first instance. It goes without saying that if your description of your god is false then the god you are describing is also false.

Let's assume your god is real and has the following notional characteristics.

God is:

• Omnipotent – all powerful – there is nothing your god can't do.
• Omniscient – all knowing – there is nothing your god doesn't know.
• Omni-benevolent – all-loving – there is nothing your god wouldn't do to defend and protect its creation.

Okay so far? Is there anything you disagree with here? Is there something your god can't do if it has a mind to? Is there anything your god doesn't know? How about all loving? Is there anything or anyone your god doesn't love and for whom it has anything less than the greatest possible concern?

And yet we can see suffering exists.

For suffering to exist, your god must be deficient in at least one of the above. At least one of the following must be true. God is:

• Unable to prevent it, so it isn't omnipotent.
• Unaware of it, so it isn't omniscient.
• Unconcerned about it, so it isn't all-loving

So, the existence of suffering in the world proves your god as described above does not exist.

Strange then that so much of your time is spent asking your god to either stop, reduce or prevent suffering, which is nothing more than tacit acceptance that an omniscience, omnipotent, omni-benevolent god doesn't exist.

Of course, you can escape the above logic by saying your god isn't omnipotent, isn't omniscience and/or isn't omni-benevolent, but a god who can't change things, doesn't know when they need to be changed and/or isn't bothered anyway isn't much of a god and certainly not one worthy of worship. In fact, it's hard to imagine how we could distinguish such a god from a non-existent one.

I love these simple little proofs that gods don't exist. They are so much more elegant and simple than the cumbersome, convoluted and illogical 'proofs' which religious apologists have to try to get away with. That's the great thing about being supported by evidence, reason, logic and truth, and so not needing to fall back on the fallacy of faith and having to employ charlatans to make you feel better about being superstitious.

I wasn't always an Atheist, although like all human beings, I was originally born that way. My family wasn't particularly religious (my mom was Lutheran and my dad fell into the "none of the above" category), but we did attend church on the usual holidays, and Dad allowed Mom to fill our heads with her particular brand of mythology as we were growing up.

Like a lot of teenagers, I became very religious during high school and started attending church regularly—ironically inspired by the fact I had a terrible crush on one of the guys in my freshman class who also happened to be of the same sect. A year or so later, my mom got it into her head that I had to be confirmed into the faith—and since I was already deep in it—I went along. In the process I met another boy who I ended up crushing on equally hard. (The first guy and I had stopped hanging out together after I'd confessed my true love; go figger.)

Anyhow, my church attendance dropped precipitously after I went off to college, and ended completely once I came out. I still considered myself a "spiritual" person, but the Christian faith just wasn't cutting it any more. How could I embrace something that so obviously and vocally had no place for me? And the more I read of the atrocities that had been committed in the name of Christ down through the centuries, the more disgusted I became with the whole business.

The first summer back home from college I had what I then considered an almost "religious" experience during my first screening of Star Wars. When Luke stood there looking out on that double sunset, I experienced an overpowering sense of deja vu. I didn't know where or when, but I knew that at some point I'd once gazed out upon a similar landscape. That led me into reincarnation—and by extension—the whole "New Age" thing.

While I can't deny that the New Age practice of Reiki played a big part in at least putting my head in a good space during my cancer treatment, in the couple years that followed, even New Age philosophy began to lose all credibility, and I came to realize that none of it could be proven any more than the existence of god, angels and the resurrection of Christ.

When you're looking death in the face, it causes you to examine your beliefs in detail, and I think that was the beginning of the final turning point into non-belief for me. I thought of all the possible after-life scenarios, and came to the conclusion there was absolutely no way of knowing what—if anything—would follow, and for that reason alone, worrying about it was kind of ridiculous. If our essence, our energy goes off in some form after our body stops functioning, fine.  If not, and we just wink out into nothingness, how can that be frightening? We won't exist to experience the nothingness anyway.

The only thing I rejected then—and reject to this day—is the crime and punishment view of the afterlife as espoused by the Christian concepts of Heaven and Hell. That's just batshit crazy. And don't even get me started on the contradictions, illogic, and outright proven falsehoods contained in the Bible.

But if I am proven wrong and end up burning for all eternity (leaving aside the question of how a soul can burn) because I don't believe this bullshit and wasn't a good little Christian and flat out rejected the delusion that passes as "faith," you can bet I'll have my non-corporeal middle finger extended upward the entire time, because the Christian god (by his "own" supposed inerrant words) and the vast majority of his followers are psychotic and I want no part of their insanity.

Coming out as an Atheist can be compared to coming out as gay. While I will admit there are truly some folks out there who are attracted to either sex, for a lot of us, labeling ourselves "bisexual" offers a psychological buffer before finally fully embracing what we knew to be the truth all along. By the same token, calling myself agnostic has served as a psychological buffer for many years. But lately—prompted in no small part by the hysterical ranting of those on the far right who are demanding that their own petty hate and prejudice become codified into secular law—I've finally reached the point where I can no longer deny it and am compelled to say fuck you to all religions, all gods and in fact all things metaphysical, and wear that big red atheist "A" with pride. I will continue to live my life in a moral fashion and treat others—as much as is humanly possible—the way I would want to be treated, and without the need for a promised reward waiting at the end of my life.