SideOne Magazine Volume 1, Issue 2 - October 2020

A MILLENNIAL’S POV

Feeling slighted by an atheist upbringing

By Kimberly Elliot

Kimberly Elliot is an associate with a Toronto-based marketing agency.

There is a man who stands at a busy intersection near where I live holding a sign that says “Jesus loves you.” He turns to face oncoming traffic as the lights change so no one feels left out. The first time I saw him, the sign was scribbled on some white foam board. More recently he’s upgraded to a graphic T-shirt that also says “Jesus is coming” on the back. Some days he’s out there at 6 in the morning, others closer to lunch.

And I think he’s wonderful! Years ago, if I’m being honest, I might have honked and given him the finger, I’m truly embarrassed to say. Far be it from me to quietly allow someone’s religion to invade my space. But I’m feeling more tolerable, maybe even receptive of that message. These times we’re living in have me wondering what life would be like today if I could take a knee (knees?) and pray to God. Maybe I feel (kind of, sort of) slighted by my atheist upbringing (sorry, Mom).

I would pray if I could. If I believed that prayerscould be answered, praying would likely take up thebulk of my day. But I was raised by atheist parentsand to entertain the idea that God exists was tolower yourself to a lesser school of thought (hencethe knee-jerk reaction to give the finger to “Jesusloves you” traffic-light-guy). Religious believers weremembers of a “flat earth society,” as Mom wouldput it. God and science were mutually exclusive. MyMom is one of the absolute smartest people I’ve evermet, so of course I’m a product of that environment.

SPECK OF DUST IN SPACE

As a kid I can remember feeling wholly consumed bythe notion that there is nothing after life. I picturedfloating through the black sky, eternally alone.Being without the confines of a body or mind orconscience. A speck of dust in space but withoutstars, or sun, or planets. The idea would come tome at random; in the shower, at soccer practice,

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driving in the car. And I’d be overcome by my owninsignificance, petrified of ceasing to exist. In thosemoments of existential dread there was just me andmy pesky thoughts, washing over in overwhelmingwaves. We all die, there is nothing after, get over it. Itwas a bit of a tough pill to swallow for a kid.

I would pray if I could. If I believed that prayers could be answered, praying would likely take up the bulk of my day.

What would life have been like to believe that Godhad an intended purpose for me? Or that when wedie we go to a better place? How would it feel toknow Jesus loves me and that he’s “coming?” Nopanic attacks at soccer practice, surely.

But what would I pray for? Not surprisingly, it ranges

from the sublime to the absolutely ridiculous. The pandemic. A vaccine. A green recovery. The U.S. election. Climate change. Melting permafrost. The destruction of global biodiversity. Indigenous peoples’ rights, their women and girls. Black Lives Matter. Breonna Taylor. Elijah McClain. George Floyd. Overpopulation. Global food insecurity. Yemen. Democracy. Nationalist governments. Privatization of water. Public education. Online education. Homeschooling. Patience. Calm. And if I really, really thought prayers could be answered – I would have prayed for Kawhi Leonard to stay with the Raptors. You get the idea; the list is exhaustive. But I imagine prayer giving me some comfort. And that comfort might make some of these trying days just slightly more palatable.

Now here’s the part where I make a valiant effort to repair my relationship with my Mom in anticipation of her reading this. I wouldn’t trade my atheist upbringing. I’d be an unrecognizable version of

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But what would I pray for? Not surprisingly, it ranges from the sublime to the absolutely ridiculous.

myself if it had been any other way. And while I’venamed plenty of reasons for anyone to pray, mylist of reasons to be thankful for how I was raised is

much longer. Besides, wishing for another upbringing would be completely futile.

I don’t and I won’t pray. I’ll look inward and breathe deeply through the ultra-trying times we find ourselves in. But on really hard days, I might take the long way to the highway, past a particular intersection for a chance to glimpse my Jesus friend, and think that maybe someone is praying for me even if I can’t pray for myself … or I’ll just call my Mom.

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