Personal Narrative – Atheist Essay

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Personal Narrative – Atheist

I didn't ask for the pastor to come over. I would have much rather been left alone to watch daytime TV. True, I was beginning to feel I little isolated, but some sissy-voiced holy man I hardly knew wasn't going to make me feel any better. But it was standard policy to notify the church when one of its fold has been hospitalized, for prayer requests and all that mush, and when the pastor heard that I was already home, he felt obligated to visit, as if seeing my swollen, drooling face was somehow doing me a favor.

If only I could have had the surgery a year ago, when I still believed in God, but the surgeon made me wear these braces first, buying me plenty of time to attend my freshman year of college.
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But the power of Christ compels me to remember a cold white room where I, wrapped in a cocoon of blankets, lying on a gurney surrounded by medical equipment, was nervously awaiting the anesthesiologist. I must admit I felt a wash of relief when a nun in plain clothes arrived to give the procedure God's blessing. After the surgery, I noticed a wooden crucifix on the wall of the recovery room. The crucifix had a little featureless brass Jesus that looked like a ghost from where I lay, and when the nurses injected me with the pain killers He would jump from His cross and fly around the room like a candle flame with a mind of its own.

I'd never had a beef against Jesus. Just like Santa Claus, He was a real person once, and I don't think He expected His life to have impacted the world as much as it did. I mean anyone would be stunned to learn that gun-toting right-wing bullfrog-throated hillbillies were worshipping you almost two thousand years into the future. Jesus was just a simple madman who helped the sick, much like the plainclothes nun, and in the end He was put to sleep like a mad dog. No, it was God that I had the problem with, an insane God who thought that having His Son whacked was the best idea He ever had.

The doorbell rang. Mom stuffed the rest of my dirty clothes into the closet, saying "That must be him." As she disappeared into the hallway, I quickly grabbed a

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