Bashing God for the Misery of Life

[WinterHold]

When it comes to disbelieve, emotions play a very big role, the subconscious too, in that regard disbelief can be an angry reaction for someone's life conditions or misery in life.

Take the example of a sick person. The disease ate their body, and they see the whole world living it up while they are stuck in their bed or chair. Disbelief becomes more reasonable way to satisfy the anger.

Bashing "God" for the misery of the day seems like the perfect scapegoat. But aren't we ignoring the fact, that our existence here might not be for pleasure?

In other words; who said that we should enjoy this life? who said that we must satisfy the stereotype and live the predefined role dictated by the society?

Other organisms have it worse; I mean look at bugs, look at a roach being eaten by ants, or a spider with broken legs at your bathroom.

I wouldn't bash God, I would bash life.

[The Grand Nudger]

Is god not responsible for life?  Does anything in life happen that isn;t the will of your god? Disbelief isn;t the reason that anyone puts your god on the hook for all that business..(and yeah, while were at it spare a thought for the spiders too..just one more species allah is rawdogging). Belief is what does that. If what you believe about god were true, he would be detestable.

[Losty]

I feel like the poll has nothing to do with the op...

[The Grand Nudger]

Having thoughts on cancer vis-a-vis an existent god is decadent western hedonism, dontchaknow.

[Minimalist]

My life is pretty good....except for too many republicunt assholes running around unsupervised.  None of it requires any fucking god.  I worked for it.  Far more effective than fucking praying.

[Aroura]

What's the question to the poll? question one seems rhetorical and is leading, not a good yes or no, and the next two are asking who, not something that can be responded to with yes or no.

Perhaps put a clear question at the beginning or end of your post, so your pill makes sense and isn't just a random yes/no.

I mean, unless you were being very meta and implying that all answers to life's questions are false dichotomies or shades of grey so yes and no are never good answers. /Too deep man!

[GUBU]

When it comes to disbelieve, emotions play a very big role, the subconscious too, in that regard disbelief can be an angry reaction for someone's life conditions or misery in life.

Take the example of a sick person. The disease ate their body, and they see the whole world living it up while they are stuck in their bed or chair. Disbelief becomes more reasonable way to satisfy the anger.

Bashing "God" for the misery of the day seems like the perfect scapegoat. But aren't we ignoring the fact, that our existence here might not be for pleasure?

In other words; who said that we should enjoy this life? who said that we must satisfy the stereotype and live the predefined role dictated by the society?

Other organisms have it worse; I mean look at bugs, look at a roach being eaten by ants, or a spider with broken legs at your bathroom.

I wouldn't bash God, I would bash life.

tl;dr "Just because god is too lazy to get off his arse and use his poeer and knowledge to fix his own incompetency, that doesn't mean it's his fault".

Yeah if I fuck up at work, guess whose fault it is. If god exists (and that's a big if) it should be held to at least the same standsrd as me.

[paulpablo]

In one way or another I think everyone lives to maximize pleasure.  

In relation to what you're saying I think the idea seems false and the exact opposite seems true.  People who are sick/poor/trapped begin to believe in god/continue believing in god.  That's a tendency I think is more common.  

There are people who begin to reject god once something bad happens to them but I think they're in the minority. 

Relatively I've lived a pretty comfortable life, apart from a short term belief as a result of childhood indoctrination the only time I feel a pull to believe in anything supernatural again is when I go through something traumatic.  

Trauma is usually uncontrollable and I think there's an urge to try and gain control via god, superstition, OCD, rituals whatever else.

[WinterHold]

The poll question is very related to the topic, thank you for letting me know that you didn't even read the topic:

AtlasS33 said (in the op):

Bashing "God" for the misery of the day seems like the perfect scapegoat. But aren't we ignoring the fact, that our existence here might not be for pleasure?

[Fake Messiah]

You know an ex-Muslim, Ali Rizvi, who is now a podcaster and a doctor lost his faith in Islam on just these accounts that some people go to such misery that it's not their fault.

Like this story that he sometimes speaks of

I’m five years old, standing next to my dad in the large upstairs bedroom at my aunt’s house in London, England. Everyone is gathered in the room—my parents, siblings, aunts, and uncles. My cousin and playmate, Sana, is lying on the bed. She has childhood leukemia, and her battle is coming to an end. We’re all here to be with her in her last moments, to say good-bye. She is three years old.
I saw Sana go through the last few weeks—the terrifying bouts of pain, the heartbreaking way she cries for her mother when it hurts, the utter helplessness of feeling those horrible symptoms of cancer inside her tiny little body, symptoms that can reduce even grown men to tears. She is too young to understand why this is happening, and too innocent to comprehend, much less face, the inevitability of death.

One morning, all us kids are sitting at the breakfast table having Weetabix cereal and grape juice. Sana is sitting across from me. Her older brother says something funny, and everyone laughs. She adores her brother. She giggles, smiling wide, as a three-year-old does. But her gums are bright red. There’s blood running across her teeth. She doesn’t know she’s bleeding. Our smiles fade, and she notices. The blood slowly trickles down the sides of her lips. She looks down and quietly starts crying. My aunt hurries over. Sana immediately turns to her, burying her face into her mother’s shoulder, clinging to her sleeves as they walk away. Now sobbing, her face is wet with tears and blood. She is embarrassed by her cancer symptoms. Things were going well for her that morning. She was fitting in, enjoying breakfast with her cousins, being a normal kid. But something just had to go wrong again. No carefree moment can ever last, I learn that day, when you’re a kid with cancer.

Holding on to my dad’s forearm, I watch as my aunt and mother sit by Sana’s bed, crying and praying desperately as she gasps for breath. She is pale and weak. She has likely been given large amounts of sedatives and painkillers to help ease her passing, but watching her now makes it clear that there’s still some pain breaking through. Cancer doesn’t discriminate. There’s no reason she would have it any easier than anyone else. Cancer doesn’t care if you’re eighty, or three.

My mother and my aunt are reading from the Quran, their faces drenched with tears.
“What are Ammi and Khala reading?” I ask my dad. “What are they praying so hard for?”
“They don’t want Sana to go, Ali. They are praying to God, begging him to let her stay and to stop her pain.”
God doesn’t do either of those things that day. Her pain gets worse. She struggles harder and harder to breathe, her gasping becoming more and more pronounced. And then, finally, it stops. My three-year-old cousin, Sana, is dead. Everyone in the room is drained. Shaken. My aunt and uncle are inconsolable.
We don’t have even the remotest hope of winning. We never did. It’s cruel, sadistic, and obscene. Yet they’re praying to him, begging him to save Sana, but from whom? Himself? Surely they’ll realize now how rahmaan (compassionate) and raheem (merciful) he really is.

The good news in all of this is that sort of leukemia is very treatable. Up to 90% of the cases. This is what scientists and physicians have achieved, not priests and praying. But that is a tiny fraction of the countless children who died from it and are still dying of other deasises while at the same time religious people are doing everything they can to stop stem cell research that could bring cure to those unfortunate children.
And also unlike today' s pediatric oncologists, God was supposedly always there, for millennia upon millennia for children who had the disease before that, these "miracles" were few and far between. They died. The only thing that changed in the meantime was the breathtaking progress humanity has made in science and medicine.