I’d like to recount a very personal story. This is probably one of the most intimate details about my life that I could share, but I think it is germane to the goal of this blog.
About six years ago I had a best friend who was deeply troubled with addictions and health issues. His life was a mess. He was miserable, losing his mental faculties, and was watching everything he had worked for in his life slowly slip away. One night I got a call from him and I could tell he was very, very low. The conversation went something like this:
Him: Hey Jim, I need to tell you something but I want you to promise me something. Me: What?
Him: Promise me that after I tell you what I’m going to tell you that you won’t call the police.
(Now, at this point I thought my friend had broken the law, or was intending to break some law. Whatever it was, he was like a brother to me and I didn’t care.)
Me: OK, I promise. Now what’s going on?
Him: I want to kill myself tonight. I don’t want to die alone though, so I want you to come be with me while I die.
Me: Are you kidding me?
Him: I’m very serious.
Me: I need to think about this.
Him: You don’t have time. It’s already started. I just took something, and I should be gone in a few hours.
Me: I’m on my way.
I got into my car in a state of shock. I’d grown up with this guy, and I couldn’t believe what was happening. I thought about for awhile and was in a deep conundrum. I had made a promise to my best friend during the most desperate time of his life! How could I break that promise? I’m embarrassed to say that I was in such a cloud that I lacked the clarity to know what to do. So from the car I called a friend, and she asked one question:
“What is more important: you keeping your promise, or you saving his life?”
Clarity achieved. I hung up with her, and called the police. They arrived at my friend before I did. I didn’t even get to speak to him, but only saw him scowling at me while they put him in the ambulance. He died on the operating table 7 times that night, but they revived him each time. Later, he thanked me for going against his will and breaking my promise.
But this brings up a very serious question for Christians, because what my friend was going through is parallel to my current state according to Christians. I am apparently choosing to suffer eternal death, so why isn’t God calling the police? Christians say that God loves me—even more than I loved my friend. And his love is so great that he allegedly allowed his son to die for me. So why won’t he usurp my own will to save my eternal soul from damnation? Why won’t he intervene? Is he so weak that he cannot intervene? Why is he silent? Is he pouting? Why does he provide me no plausible evidence whatsoever?
Christians will say that he has given me evidence, but the evidence for Christ is equal to the evidence for Zoroaster, Allah, and Krishna. It is all laughable and clearly man made.
If God really loved me, and my soul was really valuable to him, and he were really all-powerful, he would do whatever it took to save me. He would set his “higher ways” aside and simply reach down and show me.
“What is more important? Saving my eternal life or sticking to some obtuse Godly method?”
God doesn’t want to save me from hell because he isn’t there, and neither is hell.