The Atheist who just wanted his Dad to like him

Who'd have thought, behind the blank eyes of the Door-to-Door Atheist - there was just a little boy wanting some approval?

I've had a busy morning, getting around the village and its surroundings.  I've been trying to visit various of my chapel members for their fortnightly spiritual audits. Unfortunately they were all out, which was quite a surprise. Not least because three of them were homebound. I can only cry Hallelujah! They must have been healed and risen from their beds. Which is quite a a blessing - especially for Mrs Hangem, who is 99 and hasn't left her cottage since the Beatles disbanded.

But I digress. I returned to the manse and made myself a refreshing cup of tea - not too strong, I wouldn't want to get over-excited and lose control of my passions.

And a knock came at the door.

I did what I always do in these circumstances. I opened the door - none of your post-modernism for me.  I have to mention that I was not dog-collared, as I tend to save such dressing-up and frippery for the Sabbath - and there he was. A little chap with greasy hair and an anorak. At first glance I assumed he was a member of our own congregation, but then I read the material he had in his hand.  "Evolution is real."

And I realised I was face-to-face with that mythical creature, the Door-to-Door Atheist.

Who would have thought it? I, a mere Baptist minister, granted by God's grace the chance to evangelise the Door-to-Door Atheist. Naturally I inwardly said the "prayer before going into spiritual battle" that I was taught on my three-week Independent Ministry Crash Course.

He's an interesting character. You think about it - you or I in evangelism, or a vacuum cleaner salesman or a door-to-door psychotherapist - we all adopt much the same technique. We try to establish that the person who opens the door has a problem.  Either they have a dirty soul, or a dirty carpet, or a dirty mind.  And we show how we can cure that problem - with the Jesus Prayer, or a new improved vacuum cleaner, or cognitive therapy.

Whereas the Door-to-Door Atheist starts by telling you that it's your solutions that are the problem, and if you'd give them up your life would be - well, less full of solutions, I suppose.

So we had a discussion about the evidence for evolution. He explained that the way in which fossils lie in the same sequence within rock strata shows that evolution has taken place. He spoke of the measurement of genetic change in modern-day organisms. He spoke of sickle-cell anaemia and malaria resistance, of the breeding of dogs, of the obvious flaws in the "design" of creatures. Of the shared DNA between many species, of mice and mitochondria.  And I read Genesis Chapter 1 to him, to explain to him what really happened.  And I patiently explained to him that fossils were put there by the Dark One, and he wouldn't accidentally put one in the wrong place to ruin the Theory of Evolution.

So he told me of the width of the universe - how it is expanding, and how maths and the Theory of Relativity prove the immense age of the universe. He told me of light from stars long-dead, still heading towards the earth. And I told him that 6000 years ago, God simply put those beams of light in the right places, and the expanding galaxies likewise, and told them all which way to go.

So he spoke of a plethora of religions - of dead religions and living ones - of polytheism and monotheism and henotheism -  and of each claiming to be right - and asked what made me think mine was the right one? And I told him - the Bible and the Holy Spirit tell me. So I'm right. So he could either repent or perish.

And then I changed tack - I don't know, something about him struck a chord - and asked him how he got on with his father.  And bingo.

I had to invite him in for a cup of moderate-strength tea with a sufficient but not luxurious amount of sugar.

Turns out his dad was a terrible critic of the Door-to-Door Atheist's talents - always telling him he wasn't good enough. And the Door-to-Door Atheist as a result had come to hate all patriarchal religions, with a father-god casting thunderbolts and judging people guilty for falling short of his divine standards.
And then he had discovered the One True Dawkins, and had forsaken trying to please his father, and had instead worked hard to try to make himself the sort of sceptical scientist that Prof Richard Dawkins would be proud of. But no matter how hard he tried to write scathing comments about Flying Spaghetti Monsters and Sky Pixies on the atheist forums late at night, he still didn't feel good enough and so he turned to Door-to-Door Atheism as a way of channelling his energies productively.  And how all that walking around having doors slammed in his face had been a way of burning off the sexual frustration that built up from knowing that girls don't fancy geeks in anoraks.

So, now that trust had been established, I opened up a little myself. I told him how I too had always felt myself a disappointment. Hearing my surname, people have always assumed I'm a relative of the great hamster breeder, Percy Parslow. And when I tell them I'm not, they always look like I've let them down slightly. And maybe, in some way, this is what has driven my need to have people look up to me as a pastor and respected preacher.  Maybe even led to my stress upon God as a Judge, and not Jesus as our boyfriend.

So poured him another tea - I'd already had enough - and we shed a few tears, and then I let him out and shook his hand and he went on his way. He has not changed his views. He is still marching towards oblivion, one door at a time.

But for just a few minutes, I like to think that he and I shared something special.