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| Mat Coe is a junior criminal justice and psychology major and writes 'Screw Flanders' for the Daily News. His views do not necessarily agree with those of the newspaper. |
Many people think I am anti-Christian, but I'm not.
I was raised in a Christian setting; my father is even a minister.
I've tasted Jesus. No seriously, I've taken a bite out of him. I've eaten the bread and drunk the wine that is his "body and blood."
On the first Sunday of every month, upon finishing my helping of Jesus, I was satisfied. After eating Jesus for so many years, I decided that Jesus is just all right with me; and J.C. and I kindly parted ways.
Jesus and I were friends for most of my life, and if I were to see him again, I'd probably have a good conversation with him. I have no problems with him; it's just that I was told that if I was going to stay friends with Jesus, I had to truly believe that he was God.
I found out after all that time that I didn't believe he was God; so sadly, I had to sever our relationship.
Jesus was a cool friend, but his house was really boring. I hated going over there every Sunday. Jesus and I could never play; we either had to sit on a pew and listen to some guy talk or go to Sunday school. Yeah, school on a Sunday, what's up with that?
Anyway, I enjoyed his company. He was one of those friends that your parents set you up with and you play with them because they are there. But we had fun.
I could have found another friend to play with, but that would have taken me too long, my parents didn't want me to be lonely all those years.
When we were little, Jesus would always have a little book with him. It was a great book. We always read it or looked at the pictures.
He'd tell me the stories of why the pictures were drawn and what happened to the people in the pictures. I didn't understand why these people would do such crazy things, but it kept me entertained.
As we got older, Jesus' book kept getting bigger and bigger and I could understand the words that were in it. It was a great book, but the guy never put it down. I resorted to reading other books while Jesus read his over and over again.
At that point our relationship slowly diminished. I stopped playing with Jesus and found some other friends. Eventually, it came to the point where I was forced to move. Jesus and I shook hands and had a tearful good-bye.
I don't think I'll ever forget Jesus, he was my best friend and I don't plan on replacing him. However, it's a great life without him, and it's strange because I don't miss him at all. I'm really happy. Jesus showed me the light.
Write to Mat at twobsuguys@bsu.edu
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