Autobiography: My Religion
Religious Autobiography
Jessica
Professor George
Philosophy of Religion
Due October 17, 2013
As a young child, I was simply told that God created us with no explanation of how or why. My parents would tell me that He created all humans, animals, plants, and even the Earth. Well of course this had to be true because Mom and Dad were telling me so and they know best. I began to ask more questions like, “how did he do it, when did he do it” and so on. These were questions that they could not answer. They did not brush off my questions; instead, they sent me to a Lutheran church with my aunt. Sure, going to church was nice to have companionship with such welcoming people but my questions were still not answered in the weekly lectures (yes, I say lectures because I did not enjoy it). I found it strange that my parents pushed me to believe in God, yet they were not churchgoers themselves. Eventually I figured it out and I decided to quit going to church as well. My parents were okay with my decision but still told me God was real and if I did not believe, there really would be no meaning to life. We were not the type of people to believe in what someone tells us to believe in, we wanted to believe in whatever we wanted to believe in and we are not willing to devote our lives to something or someone we are never going to see. Our lives are here for us to live instead of worrying if He is real or not.
In addition to not being a regular churchgoer, my whole life, I grew up listening to my “Christian” grandmother from my mother’s side saying how she did not want to live anymore and there was no purpose to her life. She felt like it was only her body that existed and even that was not in good shape anymore. She literally prayed for her own death. She figured if she begged and bothered God enough, that he would take her life. It was not as easy as that but no one could tell her any differently. This brought up the problem of evil quite often in
Jessica
Professor George
Philosophy of Religion
Due October 17, 2013
As a young child, I was simply told that God created us with no explanation of how or why. My parents would tell me that He created all humans, animals, plants, and even the Earth. Well of course this had to be true because Mom and Dad were telling me so and they know best. I began to ask more questions like, “how did he do it, when did he do it” and so on. These were questions that they could not answer. They did not brush off my questions; instead, they sent me to a Lutheran church with my aunt. Sure, going to church was nice to have companionship with such welcoming people but my questions were still not answered in the weekly lectures (yes, I say lectures because I did not enjoy it). I found it strange that my parents pushed me to believe in God, yet they were not churchgoers themselves. Eventually I figured it out and I decided to quit going to church as well. My parents were okay with my decision but still told me God was real and if I did not believe, there really would be no meaning to life. We were not the type of people to believe in what someone tells us to believe in, we wanted to believe in whatever we wanted to believe in and we are not willing to devote our lives to something or someone we are never going to see. Our lives are here for us to live instead of worrying if He is real or not.
In addition to not being a regular churchgoer, my whole life, I grew up listening to my “Christian” grandmother from my mother’s side saying how she did not want to live anymore and there was no purpose to her life. She felt like it was only her body that existed and even that was not in good shape anymore. She literally prayed for her own death. She figured if she begged and bothered God enough, that he would take her life. It was not as easy as that but no one could tell her any differently. This brought up the problem of evil quite often in