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A poem that weaves disbelief with that challenge of quiet firm and disbelief |
| No Fear-Based Faith Why am I wrong for not believing in a vengeful, cold God— one who tallies sins like debts and calls suffering a lesson? I was told love came with conditions, that fear was devotion, that obedience mattered more than mercy. But I watched pain arrive unchosen. I watched good people break while prayers stayed unanswered, and cruelty go untouched by consequence. If God is love, why does He sound so angry through human mouths? Why does heaven feel locked behind shame? I don’t reject faith— I reject the version of God that demands terror and calls it grace. I don’t need fire beneath my feet to choose kindness. I don’t need threats of hell to know right from wrong. If believing means shrinking, silencing doubt, or accepting a God who feels colder than the world itself— then no, I cannot kneel. And if I am wrong, let it be for choosing compassion over fear, human hands over invisible judgment, and love that doesn’t punish for being human. |