What I used to think was God’s grace now seems just like ordinary luck

There’s lots of reasons I’m happier being an atheist than a religious believer. One reason is that I much prefer feeling like an ordinary person rather than a special “chosen” child of God. Or of a guru, which amounted to the same thing in the Eastern religion I belonged to for 35 years. (Radha Soami Satsang Beas taught that the guru is God in Human Form.)

Among many weird things that I used to do was thank god/guru for mundane things like finding a parking space in a crowded downtown, or being met with a series of green lights when I was late getting to our local RSSB meeting on Sunday. My magical thinking led me to believe that unlikely events in my life were mini-miracles brought about by god/guru intervening to make something good happen.

It’s a pleasure to have those days be just a tiny reflection in the rear-view mirror of my life, a distant memory that now means nothing to me. Here’s an example of how I’ve changed.

Last Tuesday I had an appointment to bring my recently leased 2026 Tesla Model Y Juniper to a business here in Salem, Oregon that was going to put XPEL paint protection film on parts of the car prone to getting chipped paint, plus XPEL XR Black 70 tint on the windshield and front side windows to reduce infrared heat absorption without noticeably darkening the glass.

My wife was out of town, so Jim, a long-time friend, agreed to pick me up at the business and drive me home, where I could use the Subaru Crosstrek that I still own.

Jim and I get together for coffee and conversation at a coffeehouse almost every Sunday at 1 pm. I’d been idly thinking about paying for Jim’s scone and cold brew the next time we got together, but it had escaped my mind as I was paying for my order, latte and bagel. Until I saw Jim walking into the coffeehouse just as I was about to press my credit card to the payment machine.

As Jim walked up to us, I said to the clerk “Don’t let this guy pay for anything. It’s on me. Well, unless he wants everything in your display case to go.”

As I was toasting my bagel, I was struck by the fact that Jim and I had driven separately, left our homes at different times, and yet arrived at the coffeehouse in a perfect way for me to buy Jim’s drink/food order: me arriving first and Jim slightly after. Then another unexpected happening happened. A woman I knew from my Tai Chi class walked up to our table with a vegan oatmeal cookie on a plate. She told me, “This is the cookie that I’ve been telling you is simply amazing; the knife is for you to cut it in half and share it with your friend.”

We thanked her. She walked away. I told Jim, “Man, first you get your coffee and scone paid for, then you get half of a tasty oatmeal cookie. Good karma is flowing over you.” Implication: from taking the time and trouble to give me a ride home from the car business.

Religious believing me would have taken the good karma remark seriously. Atheist me said it jokingly. There are so many things going on in everybody’s life every single day, that seeming “mini-miracles” happen frequently by coincidence alone. Usually Jim and I arrive at the coffeehouse at considerably different times. Sometimes he gets there first; sometimes I do.

Yesterday we arrived at close to the same time. That’s happened many times before; it will happen many times again. But this time felt special, because I used it as an opportunity to pay for Jim’s order. And my Tai Chi friend frequently meets with a female friend of hers at the coffeehouse while Jim and I are there. So it wasn’t unusual to see her; this was just the first time she’d bought a cookie for me and Jim, even though recently she’d told me how much she loves the cookie as we were chatting before our Tai Chi class started.

Life simply is what it is. We humans love to make special stories out of seemingly special events. Nothing wrong with this. We’re story-telling creatures. But religious belief can raise stories from the “special” to “miraculous” category. There’s a lot wrong with that, since it elevates ordinary events into a sphere that fosters divisiveness: “God loves me more than you; just look at this prayer that was answered.”

Not sure if this quote really fits here, but it’s been on a post-it note hanging around my desk and I want to get rid of the note. It came from a guided meditation I listened to on my iPhone: “Awareness has no preference for one experience over another.” I like that sentiment, even though I don’t fully understand it.