Do I Believe In God?

I believe there is more than just science and evolutionary chance responsible for some things …

The miracle of birth for example … is truly a miracle to me.

Not so much for the act itself, but because of the sense of awe and wonderment one feels upon its occurrence … or upon one’s reflection of it.

And the power of prayer … I think it has some merit on occasion.

But I think everyone’s religion is something personal … private to them.

And mine is both personal and private to me. Very.

I believe there is a bit of God in each and every one of us.

And I’m reluctant to embrace the belief now that there’s this one omnipotent, omnipresent being that is responsible for everything.

And if there is, I suspect he’s got his own … Do You Believe In God … issues.

And if there is this one omnipotent, omnipresent God … well, we haven’t been on good speaking terms of late.

We were friends I’d venture to say … until about when I was 18.

Growing up, as part of middle class America, I attended church religiously every Sunday …

Participated in the youth groups …

Performed responsiblities as needed by the church.

And I prayed … daily … my own personal prayer.

Thank you lord for everything you’ve given us today. (My mom raised us to say thank you.)

Please forgive me of my sins that I have committed, the ones I am aware … (I try to get as specific as possible.)

And the ones I am not. (Sometimes I forget and I didn’t want to get hosed outta heaven on a technicality.)

Please forgive the ones dear to me of any sins which they have committed. (I didn’t want to go heaven if those dear to me weren’t going to be there.)

Please let us all be safe tomorrow as we each go our separate ways.(I’m pretty sure I snorked this part of my prayer from someone else’s, sounds pretty standard.)

And please let me wake up a girl.(I closed with this one from about 7 until 13. I actually thought it was that simple, just give me the body I was supposed to have.)


And please fix me, you know why. (I closed with this one from about 13 – 18, because I wasn’t sure what my problem was, I had done some research at this point and couldn’t tell what I was, I just knew something was wrong. So I figured God would know what’s wrong, and all I wanted was for him just to fix it.)

But around 18, I gave up … I had things that were expected of me now … and God apparently was too busy to get around to answering my prayers.

Now I didn’t suddenly become evil as a result … I continued to try to live my life in a manner, fashion … that was generally perceived as “good”. I helped people, I was respectful, I tried to be patient and kind, I was loyal and reliable.

But I didn’t do those things to please God … because I figured at that point he had no interest in me.

I did those things because, well … that’s just the type of person I am.

And though I stopped going to church.

I didn’t give up praying … I just stopped asking for things of myself.

Even today …

I only pray for others …

I pray from my dad and mom often.

I prayed for Shaft, Satan and their entire family during their recent excitement with their family addition.

I prayed for Singer, her husband and their family during their recent excitement with their family addition.

I pray for family members and friends taking trips across country or experiencing challenges in their lives. In fact, when there was a personal tragedy earlier this year for one, I prayed so often I’m pretty sure if there is a heaven, it was put on heightened security because they figured I must be up to something. 🙂

But I’m don’t ask for anything for myself in my prayers.

Just doesn’t work.

Now I never discourage anyone from praying for me … go ahead … I can use all the help I can get. 🙂

I just don’t expect much.

Though for a long time … I guess I thought God and I would always make up.

Heck, I even attempted a reconciliation …

Once I decided to become Catholic. I believe a sense of religion is good for a family … important actually. And if there was going to be a sense of family and commitment … I needed to embrace, accept and believe in the Catholic faith. It wasn’t even an issue to me … just something I was doing and felt was important … and it wasn’t something I advertised or told others I was doing … as is the case with me … it was personal and private … so there I was …. me and the Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults.

But then God and I had our second falling out. And but for marriages, deaths or holidays … I haven’t been to church since.

I’d like to think even though we really don’t get along at all now …

That we have a mutual respect for one another.

I know I still respect him.

And I’d like to think he respects me, but I really don’t believe he does.

I just don’t think he cares about me.

One way or the other.

Anyways … I was recently asked if I believe in God.

And I do … in my own personal way.

I pray for others,

Meditate for myself,

Respect and admire others’ religions, and


In My Own.

So that is my answer.

And a bit more about me. 🙂

Similar Posts


  1. “‘You’ve got a long reach!’
    ‘I needed it. This is a big empire.'”

    i went through the athiest thing for much the same reason, and sort of wavered in and out of seeing God as an asshole-fucker–i’d give him what he wanted, and he’d pretty well leave me alone…

    somewhere along the long,
    i decided that God really does love me,
    (btw, he has to love y’all, too,
    because there’s no reason he’d love me more than or instead of you…)

    so, like i was chattering earlier,
    this TSism is a kick-ass gift;
    i’ve experienced and understood things
    and touched lives
    in ways i never could have if i weren’t…

  2. Hehe … I keep mine close to the vest too … I think for the most part I just confirmed that right here and now … I continue to practice Jedi ! 🙂

  3. Within a year or so of the time my mom discovered I thought I was a girl, and freaked, she judged my sister and I old enough to pray silently and she no longer monitored our nightly prayers. Free of snooping, I simplified my prayers. Soon all I prayed for was to wake up a girl.

    One thing children have in short supply is patience. I gradually became angry that my prayers went unanswered. Finally, sometime around the age of eight or about the time I turned nine, I had my fill. I declared there was no God, and waited for swift divine retribution. I waited for a bolt from the blue to strike me down for my blasphemy. After a while I realized there’d be no bolt from the blue. Then it dawned on me, “Oh dear, there really is no God! It’s another sham, a polite lie like Santa Claus, only it was one that adults tell each other to help them whistle past the grave yard.”

    How many children of eight or nine pronounce themselves non believers? I didn’t know any. My mother, as usual, freaked. She tried to bully me, but by eight, I had the emotional resources to resist. Her final response was to insist I go to church. When I dug in my heals and refused, she brought out the old standard threat, the one she’d used to force me to stop cross dressing, as far as she knew – spanking. But three or four years older this time, I knew how to counter. I knew that Mom’s real fear was always “what will the neighbors say?”

    I explained calmly that I intended to disrupt church service by publicly declaring my atheism if she forced me to attend church. Since my father had stopped attending church and spent his Sunday mornings out fishing, there was little he could say I couldn’t throw back in his face. For the first time in my young life, I opposed my parents on an issue of conscience and won.

    The real beauty in the victory was it gave me two and a half hours each Sunday morning when I could safely cross dress without the risk of discovery. By then I badly needed it to relieve each week’s gender anxiety.

    Being a non-believer added to my social isolation and added new peer pressures, but I was already so alienated for being a sissy it didn’t matter much to me. It stiffened my spine and helped toughen me in ways that ultimately helped me transition. By the time I could no longer bear the dysphoria, I was tough enough to endure the rejection.

    Of course, what I believed and didn

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *