Just today I received a Call into the Faith through the blessed disseminators of the gospel of the FSM at salon.com. Up to this point I've considered myself a Christian, albeit one who doesn't usually walk around with his head stuffed into the posterior regions...but I've been becoming increasingly distressed by ID-olaters posing as Christians trying to commandeer the laws, the Christian faith itself, and the public education of America for their own nefarious (and religious) purposes. In my growing unease and discomfort, I've been searching around for answers, and lo (!), the Answer appeared before me at salon.com, where for the first time, my Noodly Maker revealed himself unto me. I was flooded with epistemological Light and came to understand how ignorance of the Noodly Truth had darkened the minds of ID-eologues. I was filled with hope.
Immediately, however, my mind and heart presented me with a stumbling-block: I'm diabetic. There. I said it. The exhilaration I had just felt upon receiving the Truth fell from me and my heart became heavy. My shaman has told me that I must severely restrict my intake of Simple Carbly pleasures such as spaghetti. I'm sure you can understand that this places a vast abyss between me and the Divine Beneficence, and now I'm truly faced with a theodicy issue: How could, and why would, an All-Perfect being deliberately inflict upon one of his creations such a necessary distancing from Him? Has it been foreordained that I am not one of the Elect? Was I created merely as an object lesson for the Saved, as a demonstration of the anguish that awaits those who do not have an intimate relationship with Pasta Noster? Is there a way that I can come to him Just As I Am and be received without derision? I did not make myself this way, and feel that it is unjust that I should be denied communion with Him.
I hope that one of you who are stronger and older in the Faith can guide me through my confusion. To have received the Faith and then to have been so quickly assaulted with a faith crisis is disheartening.
Still, I'd rather be in my shoes any day than be an ID-eologue.