I will admit that am still more influenced intellectually by empiricist philosophy, my general understanding of science, Marxist-Leninist political philosophy, and utilitarian ethics than by Scripture readings, the Catechism, and homilies. I actually get more intellectual satisfaction rebutting apologetic arguments that attempt to advance a positive case for the existence of God (and rebutting is different than arguing that God doesn't exist) than affirming the existence of God.I suppose it depends on how you view the world and how a religious belief fits into that view.
For me, I don't really see how a religious person wouldn't be essentially an existential nihilist, if they really took seriously the notion that all the despair, pain and suffering in the world is part of God's plan. All these horrible things happen, often committed by religious zealots trying to spread their views, and I have no idea why a loving God would have all that be part of his plan. Whatever kind of plan this is, it seems to defy all logic and all basic moral intuition. So I have to consider these things, knowing that I have no idea of why God would plan this, thus also knowing that nothing I do is even reasonably likely to be in line with that plan. I suppose all this is supposed to prove the notion that we're powerless, pathetic, worthless people.
I don't know what your views on this matter are. I don't even know if your views are even practically distinguishable from atheism. However, for someone like me, who took the whole "there is a loving God out there with an unknowable plan" thing very seriously, letting go of that notion is liberating.
Essentially, what you are stating is another variation of the classic problem of evil argument concerning the incongruity between natural and human affairs to God's plan. Your words should not be easily dismissed as it is reasonable for one to interpret the universe is rather indifferent to human concerns. One can infer from this indifference the absence of God overlooking his creation.
What precipitated my conversion was a strong impression of God's love and immanence given though one of his beloved instruments -- a experience so strong that it eclipsed any intellectual doubt and the apparent absurdity of reconciling the suffering of the world with the existence of a benevolent God.
I really do not try to convert anyone because I am cognizant of the impotence of most apologetic arguments and that I am aware that my particular experiences would unlikely to resonate to more skeptical minded people.
My Catholic peers often regard me as naturally cynical, pessimistic, aloof, and melancholic although occasionally feelings of hope, peace, and joy do shine though.
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