Why Does God Hate Me? A critique of another writer’s answer

Christopher Neal in The Taoist Online published an article I couldn’t help but read. The title poses one of the major questions that crosses the mind of most suicidal people — religious or not:

Why does Got hate me?

I eagerly dissected his article to see what wisdom and insight I could glean for my own writings on suicidality, some piece of wisdom to add to my letters for those who experience a deep sense of anguish.

I was disappointed by the author’s sentence when reflecting on God hating us:

“…the question certainly does have a bit of dramatic flair to it, doesn’t it?”

What a way to minimize suffering.

I know. I actually know what’s behind that question.

It’s not drama. There’s no flair.

It is the pain of a soul burning in the depths of despair, asking the one entity that we see as being bigger than ourselves how we could be put in so much pain. It seems this gnawing desperation can only come from the kind of awful targeted vehemence that we associate with hate.

You’re not dramatic. You’re not overly anything. You are doing what humans have done from the beginning of time: questioning what you are doing on this fucking ball of dirt spinning around in the midst of some outer neighborhood of our galaxy.

“To be, or not to be…” Shakespeare knew. I know. There are a lot of us who know…