The text that I was supposed to be reading today was a self-confessed atheist's view of him as a philosopher.
And I discover that I find him much more fascinating as a Theologian.
Not only that, but it became distressingly obvious that for many years now I have actually held his person as the Ideal Christian, against which I've unbeknownst measured all and every believer I've come across.
Not in deed, but in thought. The logic of faith.
It is very strange how seamlessly I agree with his theology, how I find myself respecting even his conclusion, even though my own road has been its exact opposite. The continued choosing of it, as it were, even though the aspect of choice came to me late.
I wasn't consciously aware that I'd been carrying him around in my head all this time. All the way from the times of the kicking-and-spitting hatred toward religion that characterized my youth. That is a figure of speech, by the by.
He is the model and epitome of a believer that I could honestly respect, and not just regard with cordial condescension.
The realization has left me feeling somewhat odd.