Copyright by Shea Oakley
All rights reserved
In the first part of this story I detailed what it was like to be an Atheist at the end of his rope, a man caught in a “perfect storm of the soul” who was beginning to wonder if his despair would only be made permanent through self-destruction. I also described the process that led me to finally consider if the only one who could save me was not only the God whose existence I had denied, but the God of a specific faith whose more orthodox adherents I had for years delighted in mocking.
As my desperation for a way out of my monstrous depression increased I finally came to the decision that I would suspend my “official disbelief.” At that point my Atheism morphed, almost overnight, into a searching Agnosticism. Now at the time I was a newly minted college graduate. In fact I had been an honor student and one who considered himself well-read and both intellectually and culturally sophisticated. So it might surprise you that at 22 I had yet to crack open a certain piece of literature, a book upon which it might be said that Western civilization was largely built.
I am referring, of course, to the Bible. You see the psychiatric institution I was a “guest” at permitted an old Baptist couple from a local church to hold a modest little Bible study every Thursday night. One evening I dropped in and I was soon the owner of a free copy of the Gospel of John. For those of you who might not know, John is one of the four gospels that begin the New Testament and tell the story of the life of Christ. I’m fairly certain it was that night that I began reading something that only a few months earlier I would not have been caught dead with in public, a biblical text.
Up until this point I had mostly thought of Jesus as a “great teacher”, although I must admit that in earlier years I also had a certain respect for him as a historical figure who seemed somehow unique. But as a “Card-Carrying Atheist” I suppose I held the stock opinion that his story had been hijacked by religious fanatics. These poor, benighted souls had then turned him into something he was not, some kind of All-Powerful Judge, who they then proceeded to use to lay hyper-moral guilt-trips on the rest of us. I associated the religion that now bore his name with arrogant, self-righteous hypocrites whose primary obsession was to keep me from being free to do whatever I rightfully wanted to do.
But as I came to be acquainted with the Christ of scripture I began to realize, albeit slowly, that I had never really had a clue as to what I was talking about. I suppose that was the first manifestation of a new and crucial humility in my consciousness. It also was the start of something that tugged at the deepest part of my so recently cynical heart. Maybe, just maybe, that heart silently told me, I might find out that this Jesus had more to do with the God I was beginning to consider then I had ever imagined.
I think it was at this point that things really started happening to me. You see, all one has to do is slightly crack the door to belief. It only takes that much for someone Very Big to make himself known.
To be continued…