ATHEISTS LOVE THEIR CHILDREN TOO: and we are all children of God by Jean Snow VanOrden
Fall is here in all its glory and if my dear webmaster gets my picture posting capacity fixed I’ll share some pictures. We’re digging potatoes from the garden. I made a delicious zucchini chocolate cake with one of three zucchini that made it to significant size before the return of the dark stopped growth cold. Now, after taking a vacation from writing for a month and a half, I’m ready to launch my fifth year of Embattled Christian.
We had planned to do a lot of hiking this summer. We ended up doing more golfing than hiking. But as it turned out, I’ve had to do some serious metaphorical rock climbing. I’ve been driven from the spiritual plateau that two years of cancer treatment and miraculous recovery along with tremendous loving support have blessed me with. Somewhere in the rugged spiritual mountains that tower over me is wisdom that can only be obtained through pain and hard work.
Years ago I stumbled on to a mountain climbing movie from which I’ve taken both inspiration and indignation. “Into the Void” documents a terrifying dilemma of survival which haunts the climbing world to this day. After conquering the west face of Siula Grande in Peru and beginning their descent, Joe Simpson and Simon Yates were engulfed by a storm. The two men were tied together when they slipped and fell. Simpson’s calf bone was thrust up through his knee and into his upper leg. After heroic efforts to save his companion, Yates, unsure whether Simpson was alive or dead and certain to fall himself if he stayed attached to Simpson’s dead weight, decided to cut the rope. Simpson fell into a crevasse and miraculously survived the fall but was alone in the dark and cold and in excruciating pain. He managed to crawl to a place in the crevasse where he could see light. He then inched his way toward that light and out onto the glacier, then across the glacier, down the mountain and finally back to camp. Crawling toward that light, toward safety, healing, and warmth is powerful imagery for all us as we struggle through life’s dark wildernesses.
Simpson comments, as he reflects back on that moment at the bottom of the crevasse that, had he believed in God, he doesn’t think he would have made it. I suppose he thinks the godly would have slipped blissfully into the afterlife without a struggle. Elsewhere I’ve read of a skeptic expressing the opinion that his lack of belief in an afterlife made his last moments with a dying loved one more precious.
In response to the above sentiments I indignantly respond, “Since you don’t believe in God how can you possibly know what sweetness, bitterness, intensity of feeling, or love a believer feels!” Having fought through cancer, chemo-therapy, and devastating radiation treatment I’d say I have some insight on how hard a believing Christian is willing to fight to live. But then I am stopped by my own argument. What do I know about the heart of an atheist and what an atheist feels?
What I do know is that believers and unbelievers are all subject to the same human hungers, passions, desires and temptations. Believers and unbelievers have access to wisdom and sound principles of living. Believers and unbelievers respond nobly and ignobly to life’s challenges. We all spring from the same fountain of life and suffer the same variety of afflictions.
We are all children of God. So it should be no surprise that whether we believe in God or not we all have within us the divine source, the spark of life and goodness that is in and through all creation. We all need and have the capacity to respect and love one another and behave decently toward one another. We all listen to or bury the call of the divine within us by our thoughts and actions. We all suffer or are blessed to the degree that we seek out that which is true, just, pure, lovely, honest, virtuous, of good report or praiseworthy.
What we believe does not change our common template, “the image of God”. What we believe or do not believe does not change our common origin, as Wordworth so vividly wrote, “from God who is our home.”
September 21st, 2009 at 8:38 pm
I love this, it is so true, and I love how you describe our similarities. Too often we forget this, and I wish we didn’t. Forgetting causes too much separation. Forgetting undermines our ability to come up solutions. Sometimes it doesn’t matter if one believes or not, sometimes it is just about honoring life and people. I wish more people could see it.
September 21st, 2009 at 11:58 pm
Hi! Sorry, this comment doesn’t really belong here, but I couldn’t find an email address anywhere, so this is the best I could do. A few years ago, I was an EFY counselor a few summers ago, and had a session director by the name of Brother Bacon. He told us he was friends with you or at least knew you or something. I can’t quite remember. Anyway, he read something to us that I thought he said was on your blog, but I have yet to find it, so maybe it wasn’t actually published here. He told about how you found out you had cancer, and you were upset with God. You broke down and felt helpless, but then something happened that made you feel the love of God in your life. I know that is very vague, but I remember being very touched by it. I have wanted to blog about it (with your permission of course) because I have had similar feelings lately with my coming to terms with my struggle with same gender attraction. Anyway, long story short, I would love to know if that experience was ever published on your blog or if I can get a copy of that. I hope I’m not just making this up! That would be awkward. Anyway, thank you so much for your blog!
September 22nd, 2009 at 4:56 pm
I’ve missed your thoughts, but knew you were out there having family fun…the best way to spend the summer. We are all cut from the same cloth, it is just the window dressing that makes us different.