Mike and Diane Wilson -
Free Spirit
Life is but a transitory dream, so live it to the full

Home Page


Why won't God heal amputees? Well, why not?

It's taken me a very long time to rid myself of religion. Having the catechism drilled and drummed into me by the Dominican sisters at the Convent as an unwilling boy made me what I was: an insecure individual who lacked confidence, and who was always aware that God was watching from on high, marking my sins in his little black book. I knew from the catechism that I would be punished for eternity in the blazing fires of Hell and Damnation. I don't think I ever met the all-loving God others had. It might just be me, but my faith and my internal struggle with it really subdued me. It may not have appeared so to others, but deep within me there was always this struggle.

Luckily I have grown out of it, but I was in my seventies before I was able to do so. Like Father Christmas, the Tooth Fairy and the Bogeyman, unicorns, fairies and astrologers, God has been relegated to where he belongs: in the realms of fairy tales told by adults (and those in authority) to control children and those of a trusting or ill-educated nature. What makes an adult tell a child: If you don't stop pulling faces, the wind will change and your face will stay like that. We know that can't happen. Similarly all this scaremongering about global warming, asian flu, AIDS, etc. It will never ever be as bad as those with an axe to grind make out.

Luckily I have come across www.whywontgodhealamputees.com. I have now realised that prayer and faith are worthless.

I also prefer to believe that when I'm dead, I'm dead. Much rather that than meet God face to face to have him point out all my sins and then hand me over into the tender clutches of Satan, Lucifer, Beelzebub and his cohorts of devils (PS: I'll have to upload my ten-minute one-act play A Cacophony of Devils, a satirical comedy piece).

And the recent discovery of an abdominal aortic aneurysm also helped ban thoughts of faith. If I believed in God and he is all-knowing and all-loving, why did he put this thing in me, knowing it's going to see me off soon. If he truly loved me he wouldn't have done it, would he?

I'd much rather put my faith in the skill and commitment of the surgeon who is going to fix me up to allow me many more years. The alternative is a funeral and I'm not in the least interested in attending my funeral.

So, rather than a prayer, keep your fingers crossed that the surgeon has a good breakfast, doesn't burp at the wrong time and that he keeps his hands steady.

Mike Wilson