I stopped into a church

I took a day trip out to Santa Fe de Antioquia on Sunday with Martha. Beautiful little pueblo about 2 hours outside of Medellin. And it seeing as it was Sunday Martha wanted to go to mass like a good little Catholic girl. So I went with.

It’s been years since I stepped foot inside a house of god. He’s been dead to me for a while now. It wasn’t always like that. I remember being quite religious, praying 5 times a day, fasting, asking for forgiveness. But over some period of time I made a pretty big transition. If god does indeed exist and he created this world, he must be one hell of a bastard. Why would I worship him?

While I was there, I found myself wondering if there was anything for me in this house of god. I looked deep within myself, lost myself in introspection and all I could find was bitterness and anger. A stone-cold heart, a path to nowhere.

As I looked at the pews full of devout Catholics I felt an air of superiority. As if I was the only one who was on to this whole scam. I wanted to scream “the god that you worship is nothing but mythology!” A thousand years from now when people looks back on our civilization I’m quite confident that they’ll mock our beliefs and customs the same way me mock the ancient Greeks who worshiped the gods of Mount Olympus or the Egyptians and their sun god Ra.

But after stepping off my high-horese, I eventually admitted to myself, God does serve a purpose in their lives. He gives them hope, he makes sense out of the madness that is our existence. If God didn’t exist the human mind would be forced to create him.

Some people find hope in the church of their choice. Some people find hope overlooking the Grand Canyon at sundown. Some people find it in love. I’m still looking.