Are you there God? It's me, Pants, and I don't believe in you.

By request from Big Time, who will soon be basking in my magnificent glow for a few days, is the story of my father's attempts to woo me back into the church.

A brief history of my religious beliefs. I was born. My parents both belong to different, but similar churches. My dad's church meets every week in a medium-small building in Edmond, OK. My mom's church meets once a month at members' houses, depending on one of a number of traveling preachers.

The religion is hard to define. I call it "Mormon-lite." Both churches are off-shoots of the Mormon (or LDS) church and both use a Book of Mormon, though it's different from the one used by the Mormons. Confused yet? Me too. We were allowed to eat sugar and drink caffeine growing up, though cursing was prohibited (including use of the words "butt," "fart," "turds" and "tard" -- the last one because it sounds like "turd" -- we had serious issues with anal, I guess).

I went to church every Sunday until I went to college, when I wasn't forced to go. I went on occasion when I returned to Edmond, but once I moved out of my parents' house and didn't have anyone bugging me to get up, it wasn't a priority.

Lately, as in the last 6 or 7 years, I have made it clear that I don't consider myself a Christian anymore. Not that I'm a Buddhist or a Hindu or a Muslim or a Wiccan, either -- I don't practice religion because I think religion is stupid.

Despite my HILARIOUS post title, I do believe in God. Maybe. I think there's something out there what started the big banging or the small Ppblllllting or whatever it was that made the universe. I just don't think he/she/it/they care even a little bit about what we do.

So my dad, who is a Christian, does believe in God and Jesus and the Holy Ghost and thinks they weep when we do bad things, comes over to work on my lawn mower. It was running, but the blade needs sharpening or replacing or something and the oil needed to be changed and the air filter had to go. Long story short, I have not been taking care of my lawn mower.

Anyway, apropos of nothing, my dad asks if I'm an atheist or an agnostic. I say, "I guess I'm agnostic" and he replies, "Good, then there's still a chance."

I know I'm in for it at this point and I kicked myself for giving him an opening. Not that I hate talking to my dad, but religion and politics are kind of a sore point for us. He's a Republican. I'm a dirty, hippie liberal pinko commie.

So he starts telling me his story, or "testimony" as we called it back in the day, about how God changed his life. "I was just like you," he said. "I used to drink and mess around with girls."

(Note: I do not mess around with girls. I am married. I mess around with my hot wife. She is hot.)

And he said that, during his time in Vietnam, he questioned whether or not there was a God. I told him, judging from a number of movies, he wasn't alone. There's something about fighting an unending war for vague reasons and seeing friends die that tends to make people wonder about a divine presence.

He told me that, had he stayed in the military and kept drinking, he might have been an alcoholic.

Me: "Oh, so you drank just to get drunk? Like, all the time?"

Dad: "No, I just had a beer every now and then. Or some wine with dinner. Maybe a pre-dinner cocktail. But I didn't get drunk a lot."

Me: "That doesn't sound like you had a problem. That sounds like you figured out how to drink. You should have taught classes. I'm planning on doing a 'How to drink' course at the Learning Annex."

Then he said that after he quit drinking and went back to church, he met the love of his life, my mom. I told him my hot wife probably wouldn't like me going to church looking for a new wife. He said that wasn't the point he was trying to make.

I'll admit -- I was antagonizing him a bit. But I know where he's coming from. He thinks I'm going to Hell and he doesn't want that. I think the only Hell is the one we make for ourselves here on Earth. If the church wants me back, they'll have to be a very different church.

Things a church needs to get me as a member:
- Total acceptance of sexual orientations
- Dial way fucking back on the pomp
- Hell doesn't exist, because no loving God could let it exist
- Acceptance that, being he/she/it/they are powerful enough to make the universe, he/she/it/they likely don't care if we sing their praises
- Only live by one rule: Hey, try not be such an asshole all the time.

So, there you go. My dad, likely at the behest of my mom, tried to bring me back to the fold. And the guy at Sears gave him the wrong parts, so we didn't even get the lawn mower fixed. So that also sucked.