Once, as a boy, I was told a story about a man that walked on water. This man walked on water in a storm, and was so powerful, that when a member of a nearby boat tried to meet him on the water and began to sink, this man was able to rescue him. He simply reached out his hand, grabbed him, and saved him. The next day, my grandmother told me the story again, only this time added that this amazing man was able to heal a sick little girl at her own funeral, so easily that he even stated to mourners that she “was just sleeping.” That evening, my mother again repeated the story, adding that this amazing man could even raise the dead, including one that had passed away three whole days earlier. And every day after that, this story was repeated, so much so, and by so many trusted members of my family, that I began to believe it as true, and chose a few years later to live the rest of my life following this man.
This amazing man motivated me to go day after day, door to door telling others about his amazing powers, trying to show them that following this man was the only true way to happiness. Over and over, the door was slammed in my face, yet I still happily went to the next door, telling others how any life spent not serving this man was useless, a complete waste. In fact, I even told them of another person, an evil one that controlled all they did, even if they did not realize it, if they did not immediately listen to me, and begin following this amazing man that I so admired.
I spent my days thrilled that I was following this great man, and felt deep sorry for the lost that did not recognize his power. This man gave us all hope, a chance at a better life. This man had all the answers to life’s problems; life without him was a life of despair. I would put all of my trust in him, every second of my life devoted to convincing others to follow him. After all, who else could walk on water, and heal my every sickness, and even raise me from the dead. I would never need another, as this man was all I would ever need in my life.
Then I got the flu.
I didn’t go door to door that day.
My faith waned.
I went to the doctor.
Throughout the country, religious zealots tell us exactly the best way to live our lives. Be born again. Get baptized. Accept Jesus as our Lord and Savior. Get saved. Give your money to a church, and wear magic underwear. All these amazingly faithful minions, totally dependent on their religion, on Jesus, to solve all the worlds’ ills.
And yet as these same people complain about stem-cell research, about God’s creatures used for medical testing, about the horrific sins done in the name of science, they all line up like seniors at an early bird special for healthcare should they become sick. At the funeral of the faithful, one would hear wondrous things on how God needed another angel, how, for one individual, this was God’s time for him. And now, this amazing, faithful person was in heaven, singing with harps and eating chocolate, resting comfortably on a Sealy Posturpedic cloud.
Then why go to a doctor at all? Why put off such wonderment? Who turns down free, unlimited chocolate?
It is interesting that the evangelicals seen so intent on telling us of the wonders of heaven, yet, like the rest of us, so desperately want to put it off. How can they march outside the White House in protest of stem cell research, and then line up to receive the fruits of such an abomination? If they truly wanted to live the life of Christ, should not living past 33½ years of age be a real problem for them?
Medicine, a product of science, should be the enemy of the evangelical. The same people that believe in evolution, that we were once apes, treating the health of one of God’s chosen ones? Say it ain’t so. Just driving by a clinic should motivate these godlike ones to raise their hands and form the cross in protest, desperate to stave off any of the devils impurities. And if they truly believe they are on the road to a much better place; that only Jesus can ever save them from the darkness of this world, then maybe it’s time to but your life where your faith is.
So drop your healthcare insurance. It only makes sense. The average life expectancy in the time of Jesus was under 40, in what was one of the more advanced civilizations. Science has certainly extended that, but Gods true worshipers have no need of science. Drop your healthcare, and maybe then we can take your protests seriously. After all, why put off going to heaven, and all that chocolate?
As for me, I will keep my insurance. I would rather put off, as long as possible, my trip to hell.