I am picking up the buzz that this Sunday is Easter: the day that the Christian God allowed rabbits to lay colored hard boiled eggs in celebration of a zombie outbreak.
As a child I was sent to the Episcopal Church. Children believe what their adults tell them and when you are raised in the Deep South every adult is saying the same thing: that God exist, and the only question is which denomination is the true believers.
Since the small Mississippi Delta town was 90% hard shell Southern Baptist it was pretty accepted that Catholics were heathens and had no chance of heaven, and since Episcopalians allowed children to dance and women to wear makeup we probably wouldn't make the cut either.
It was about the tenth grade that I had questions about religion that I couldn't reconcile. It was comparable to being gay since I believed I was the only person in the state, and perhaps the nation, that just couldn't buy into the God story. I surely couldn't tell anyone, and I had no desire to be born again: to buy into a story, on faith alone, that seemed totally ridiculous.
There is no logical explanation that can justify a belief in Gods; it boils down to the matter of choosing to believe the fantastic.