Bother Sam has long since lost track of how many times somebody, usually a member of the Singleton clan, has said to him something along the lines of, “I refuse to believe that you are an atheist. You say you’re an atheist, but deep down you must still know that there’s a God.” And sometimes they append that last bit with “And he loves you.” It is at that point that BS typically has to excuse himself long to enough to retch up his breakfast grits. So in the blessed spirit of godly condescension, I’m offering Christians the following, unsolicited, blanket absolution of their sins against reason:
Dear Sister or Brother in Christ:
I am secretly reserving in your name a scintilla of the benefit of the doubt, and accepting that somewhere in the nethermost recesses of your reptile brain one neuron is saying to another, “I know that there is no God.” (Nurture the synapse that links those neurons! It is all that stands between you and total insanity, that is, the inability to recognize and respond rationally to the world around you, to tell the imaginary from the actual.) You go ahead and talk about how there’s this big old omnipotent god and he’s your pal. I’m going to give you a little credit in spite of yourself. I choose to believe that you really don’t believe. And I’m rooting for that synapse. You are welcome.