One of the many problems with Christendom’s imaginary friend is that it calls it “God.”

Here’s why….

Suppose there was a dispute as to whether a king had a right to rule over a country, or whether values should be determined by a democracy. You’re on the side of democracy, and you’re arguing against someone who is on the side of having a king — a position, he says, that should be taken by someone named “King.” The argument goes something like this:

“I think that people have the right to determine morality.”

“No, I think King is the only one with the right to determine morality. He is, after all, King.”

“No, he’s not ‘king’ over me — or anyone else for that matter.”

“Yes, He is. That’s his name. It’s simple. You KNOW he’s King. Why don’t you let him take the throne of your country?”

“Well, that may be what you call him. But that doesn’t make him king.”

“No, he is. That’s his name. Are you saying that King isn’t King?”

“Well, no…yes…well…just because you call him King, doesn’t make him king.”

“But he IS King. It says so. All public records. That’s his actual name. And you’re saying he doesn’t have the right to be King?”

Etc.

See, I think that’s where a lot of the confusion is. The name of Christianity’s imaginary being is “God,” and that’s synonymous with His supposed title. Thus, it’s not unusual for me to have conversations like this:

“I think that people have the right to determine morality.”

“No, I think God is the only one with the right to determine morality. He is, after all, God.”

“No, he’s not ‘God’ over me — or anyone else, for that matter.”

“Yes, He is. That’s his name. It’s simple. You KNOW he’s God. Why don’t you let him take the throne of your heart?”

“Well, that may be what you call him. But that doesn’t make him God.”

“No, he is God. That’s his name. Are you saying that God isn’t God?”

“Well, no…yes…well…just because you call him God, doesn’t make him God.”

“But He IS God. It says so. All through Judeo-Christian history. That’s his actual name. And you’re saying God doesn’t have the right to be God?”

Etc.

This business of making the name of this being synonymous with its supposed title can make arguments confusing, and many Christians I’ve been in conversation with have used rhetoric that takes advantage of this confusion, partially because most seem to be confused themselves.

Which is why I often refer to this imaginary being as their “imaginary friend.” Calling the imaginary being an imaginary friend reinforces the fact that the burden of proof is on the person I’m talking to, instead of allowing for the name “God” to be seen by any of the interlocutors as synonymous with the title. In the past, it’s clarified to Christians my disgust with certain positions. It also answers the incessant question, “Why are you upset by something that doesn’t exist?”

Think about it. The typical phrases just don’t have the same ring to them if you replace “God” with “my imaginary friend.” And it’s clearer what makes them annoying, offensive, or frustrating.

“Prove my imaginary friend doesn’t exist.”

“My imaginary friend says gay marriage is wrong.”

“You are lost if you don’t worship my imaginary friend.”

“Why do you hate my imaginary friend so much?”

“My imaginary friend deserves respect.”

“If you don’t believe in my imaginary friend, why does it matter to you that I do?”

“I love my imaginary friend more than you.”

“What is wrong with your heart that you don’t love my imaginary friend?”

“I’m going to talk to my imaginary friend about you.”

“You need to stop rebelling against my imaginary friend.”

“My imaginary friend loves you! Give him your life…or you’ll be tormented forever.”

The more you care about the person voicing the sentiment, or the more power these sentiments have over your life and general reputation, the more pissed off you may be by the tyrannical, sanctimonious Imaginary Friend — not in spite of it being imaginary, but because of it being imaginary.

I tend to use this phrase, on occasion, when Christians fail to see the difference between the name “God” and the title “God.” If God was, say, “Hank,” it wouldn’t be nearly as necessary to clear up the confusion. For example:



To be sure, the typical Christian response to this statement is either, “My God isn’t imaginary — that’s offensive,” or “You’re assuming that God doesn’t exist — in the hypothetical of our conversation, he does.”

My response to it being offensive is sincere — it is far MORE offensive for someone to have the gall to tell me that their imaginary friend is God, and thus has authority to tell me everything I should and shouldn’t do, and will burn me in hell forever if I don’t submit to his authority.

My response to the fact that I’m assuming God doesn’t exist, in most instances is, “Good. Now we have an understanding. It’s up to you to prove he does exist — I start, as with all supernatural beings, with the null position that he doesn’t exist. If he is more than your imaginary friend, prove it.”

Seems reasonable to me. You?

Thank you for reading.

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