So when i was a small child, my parents didn’t stamp the believe in one god on me.
When i got a little older the time came to find out what was out there to believe in.
I had read the children’s book of biblical stories, as the complete bible was a bit too complicated still. I read mythical stories from the greek, roman and norske traditions. Their gods seemed so human and allive. I read about the islam, as my best friend was a muslim. I had seen her father pray and knew what the ramadan was, and why. I knew the name of the god they believed in.
Than i started to read more about eastern mythical stories. Indonesian stories, Indian stories with the hindu belief system interwoven in them.
It just didn’t make sense. One thing was certain, if you believed in one thing, you couldn’t believe in another.
I didn’t understand why. There were so many stories out there, it didn’t make sense to say one was true and the rest weren’t. How on earth could you decide which one was true and which one wasn’t?
You would speak of their holy books, but each religion had its own holy book that claimed it was true.
This didn’t help. I couldn’t find more proof for one religion and less for another. I could just as well start worshipping Zeus, as it made just as much sense as chosing for christianity, or islam.
In the end I made up my mind and decided it were all pretty stories, but as i couldn’t find any proof that _any_ of them were true, they probably weren’t, so there actually was no need to choose.
From that moment on i didn’t worry about religion anymore, having made my choise to not pick one and live my life by my own moral compass as best as i could.