The doubt that had eaten at me for years was finally overtaking me. My belief in God was dwindling.
The more I studied, the more I reasoned, and the more I prayed without response, the more I began to accept that there might not be a God at all.
“I thought that if I was obedient, things would be easier. Shouldn’t I be having at least some spiritual experiences?” I asked myself. But there was no easy path, no easy answers from heaven. My cries, “like dead letters sent,” seemed completely unattended. It soon became easier to believe in no God than in a God who refused to talk to me.
With that acknowledgement, I started contemplating how it would affect my life.
“How do I live? Who do I marry? What kinds of friends do I have? What activities do I participate in?”