Now permit me to relate a personal story which I think illustrates vividly the concern and regard that God has for his followers. I hasten to add that this story was not the basis for my disbelief in God, but it certainly strengthened it.

My parents were both regular church-goers. In 1996, my father was rushed to hospital at the age of 67 after suddenly collapsing at home. He was diagnosed as having an aortic aneurism (where the wall of an artery has become so thin that it splits and starts to bleed into the body cavity). He was immediately taken into surgery for a five-hour long operation, with the waiting family told there was a 50/50 chance of success.

He survived the operation, and my mother, brother and I went in to see him in the recovery room. He was still groggy from the anaesthetic, and he insisted on apologising to the nurses for wanting to thank the Lord for saving him before he thanked them for their help. How the Lord must have laughed at that, knowing what he planned to do next!

My father recuperated in hospital for a few weeks, and was then sent home. Six weeks after the operation, just when my mother and the rest of the family had begun to think that he made a full recovery, he collapsed again at home. He was rushed again to hospital and taken straight to theatre, but he died on the operating table.

Now I ask you, what kind of God would put one of his "children", and his family, through that kind of torture? And don't tell me "God moves in mysterious ways" - that's just a cop-out for when you can't think of a genuine reason. Some of my father's friends said later "God must have really wanted him" - so why didn't He just take him the first time, instead of putting my mother through the agony of a five-hour operation then six weeks of having him home again, thinking everything would be alright, only to have him snatched away again without warning?

No, this is nothing to do with any god. This is the kind of thing that happens to ordinary, mortal human beings (especially those who have been smokers for most of their lives). God had nothing to do with my father's illness, nor his temporary recovery, nor his eventual death. God doesn't exist.

 

In a similar vein, I had a close business associate and friend who had had a heart murmur since childhood. He had been monitored closely through his life, and his cardiologist finally decided that, at the age of 46, it was time that he had a heart valve replacement, even though, outwardly, he appeared in perfect health.The operation was scheduled for the end of May, 2003. A few days before the operation he was in my office for a routine meeting, and everyone wished him well for the coming event.

On the appointed day, he went into hospital and had the operation. The operation was successful, and he sat up in bed afterwards and chatted with his wife for 5 hours. His wife then went home, profoundly relieved that he had come through the operation and appeared to be on the mend, and probably told their children that daddy was OK and would be coming home soon. Later that night, he suffered a heart attack and died.

God? Don't make me laugh.