God’s Playground…
If we have an image of God it’s usually that of a wise old bearded man. But I imagine God as a child. A child that yearns for attention, for praise…who takes special care of the toys who please him; promises them a place on his top shelve. And for those that dare to displease him, or think some other nonexistent entity superior to him, there is not the simple fate of being discarded. There is pain and torture like only a child wreaks on toys that have fallen from his grace. God demands things and leaves it to us to think of a reason. The trials and sacrifices, the praise and remembrance, to me, resemble the sadism and the egoism that spoilt boys exhibit. Maybe he exists, maybe he is all powerful, but is he most just, is he most merciful? Is he what he says he is? Even if we have a prophet who could not have lied of what he saw, even if we have a book that could not have been produced by a man, how can we know if the source is what it claims to be? We can imagine countless scenarios; al