A Lone Thought

I wasn't always a heathen, honest I wasn't! I used to be a nice little Catholic schoolboy, who, like most others, thought they were better than everyone else.

I've always been an inquisitive boy, and often pondered questions on somewhat deep levels. I never had "faith" so to speak. "Jesus existed. Fact. The world revolves around him, because the start of the Gregorian Calendar is his birth date. Fact." No belief without reason here, oh no. "Science is also fact. The Big Bang - fact. Evolution, fact. Science trumps religion, always. Why? Because it's science! So what do we make of religion then?" I presumed that whatever the Bible said was obviously metaphorical. Using my limited knowledge of the world I came up with the theory "the Big Bang says we came from something really really small. Dirt is really really small...so that's the Bible's way of saying the Big Bang happened!" I even made an attempt at guessing the meaning of life.

Going to church was always a bore, I mean, it's bad enough the weekend only comes once every five days...and even then it only lasts for two days! So to demand an hour out of my weekend once every fortnight was ludicrous - ridiculous! Preposterous! This was my weekend! My weekend! I didn't even get why we had to go anyway, I mean, all we did was stand around and sing hymns for an hour. How boring.

When I periodically asked Mum why we had to go she said "we're giving thanks to Jesus. He died for us! What a hero blah blah" moar liek an hero amirite? Eventually I began to question this - what about the soldiers who died for us at war? Sure, we give thanks to them once a year, but what is it about this Jesus fellow that makes him so god damn special he deserves our praise every single week of the year...forever!! I also wondered why we constantly needed to thank him. Sure, paying ones respects is one thing, but thanking? Great, you saved humanity. Thanks. Next. (Not to seem inconsistent with the previous point about war soldiers, obviously we would thank Jesus once a year or so, but considering this was more or less my thought process at the time, I hope it won't come off as too dodgy.)

In primary school we had Religion. Most people were Anglican, so they went into the classroom and listened to some half-ass-qualified lady blabber on about god knows what. Me though, I was a Christian! We got to go to the library! There were about 10-12 of us, and throughout my several years in primary went through more than one "teacher" (Who knows what qualifications these guys had. One of the ones I had was a kind old man who went to the church I went to. I liked him. He was very strict though.)

Whatever notes we had to write down, whatever rituals we had to perform, whatever the heck it was we were doing, it most certainly was boring. While I didn't know what the distinction between a Catholic and an Anglican was, I did however know I was special. One of the chosen few. The Library was our temple: we went where others were not privileged to go. My best friend didn't really have a religion, and he got to go to the office and play around with whatever while we all had to write stuff. I guess I could say I was a little bit jealous of him, and who wouldn't be. Work is boring! And besides, it doesn't really matter does it? I mean, these are facts about the real world! I don't even get what saying you're religion x y z means in the first place!

When it came time to pick a high school I had no idea where I was going to go. Most people were going off to the usual list of suspects, with the smart ones going to selective high schools, including my best friend. Where was I to go? My Mum suggested I go to a Catholic High School. It was "private" and that meant that they didn't allow no crappy teachers or something like that. I didn't really care... but a family friend went there, and he said it was alright. With his mother convincing my mother, and I not really giving a shit, I was off to a Catholic School. Uhh...great? I guess. A bonus was a primary school friend whom left a few years ago would be going there. That's great! I would already have a friend. Works for me!

Fast forward four years, not much really happens from Year 7 up to Year 11. The teachers drone on, no-one really cares, religion is boring. Period. Being the manipulative little fuck I am, I knew how to pay my cards right. This school was my get-out-of-church-free card. "I don't need to go to church each week because we have it all the time at school... in fact, every day." This of course was ridiculous! What school puts time out of their day every day just for religious purposes - such a pointless waste of time (guess I hadn't heard of America yet at that point...) But who care, cos it worked - I was free from church. Success!

In Year 8 something interesting happened, I experienced God. Being a very self conscious sort of person, I was aware that at the time I was thinking a lot of "wicked" thoughts - hateful things I wanted to do to people. I never prayed, it seemed silly. But I decided to give it a go. I got down off my bed, got on my knees, closed my eyes and prayed - that "God allow me to become a better person ... Amen" As soon as I finished the let it be so, a feeling of cleansing swept all over my body. I opened my eyes. "Cool." I hopped up and got into bed, with an uneasy smile on my face. It was then, I knew God existed. Fact.

Clearly the Devil had already infested my mind, allowing me to think for myself at such a young age, let alone any age. God however would not give up hope! There was a special place for me in his kingdom of Heaven, all I had to do was believe, and I would be eternally rewarded. When I tried to believe, I had been rightfully been rewarded. And damn straight too. Alas, the venomous Devil would not leave me be! In the next part: my recollection of how my soul was seized and strangled so that I would seek my Savior no more.