The longer I have lived this post-god life, the more I find value and beauty in it. For the first several months, I didn’t want to be where I was. I wanted to believe in God, I was desperate for it, in fact. As a Christian, life was simpler, life made more sense, life had more meaning. Losing belief meant losing my identity.
But then a miracle (miracle? Yes) occurred.
I can honestly say, now, that as a non-believer life is simpler, life makes more sense, and life has more meaning.
I never thought the day would come when I could say that, when I could find hope outside of god, when I could appreciate the richness of life without there being the assurance of its occurrence after death.
Is there still pain? Absolutely. Even more so, actually, because this pain can’t be explained away as God’s sovereignty. My family’s rejection. Sharp, deep. But the sun shines brighter than ever before. The colors of its setting are more vibrant. The taste of my chai, spicier. My baby girl nestling close to me, more precious. I notice the sweetness in the air when I pass near flowers, and I take the time to approach them and soak up their aroma.
Silver and I fought head to head in our tennis match tonight. Winner got to spend $50 of their choosing. We laughed, played, sweated. Towards the end of our game, thunderclouds rolled in. I’ve never played tennis with a setting sun amidst storm clouds across from mountains as my backdrop, nor with thunder and lighting as my theme music. But the experience was incredible. And instead of just noticing it, I lived, breathed, fought within it. My life is no longer defined by what will happen when I die, but what happens while I live.