Help The Sick

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The concept of religion is one that has always fascinated me.
A christian scientist, Aleksander Ntrochitiv once wrote;

"No human is truly godless. We all have our gods.
To some he is Jehovah, the God of the Christian's, he is perhaps the most popular and one of the newer deities. Then there's Allah of the Muslims others believe in Buddha, Krishna, Zeus, and so on."

The part that really bugged me was when he talked about gods we didn't know we served...

"..sex, drugs, alcohol, and the strongest and oldest god of all money."

It made me take a revised look at me as a person. 'Which god do I serve?'
For most people serve more than one, some gods are served willingly, others hold us with a knife to our throats.
With my Christian background but my hatred for the Christians who supposedly practice the teachings of Jehovah. 'Damned hypocrites'
My Muslim friends and my wonder, envy, admiration and fear for how strongly they practice their faith, how much that same faith limits them from living their lives.
Then the things of the world, the short term enjoyments it brings, the long term ruin it draws. I'm left stumped.

The fact that one cannot not serve a god is still too tiresome. Alek wrote again about this...

"our inability of being true atheists is not one of our innate nature but merely of the fact that the world isn't affected by us, we are affected by it. For us to live, we need to have a little bit of faith in something. We always have faith in the power of money, we have faith in the power of alcohol and drugs, some in Jehovah and Allah.
We need faith to stay alive, we need belief to live, this we as humans individually need a god to believe in.
The problem is for us to choose which God."

That's why I'm writing to you today my dear Rachel. As a scientist, a man of faith and a human being, I'm worried.
I'm scared of the way these people look at me. The sheer look of devotion in their eyes and the look of adoration when I help those I can help.
I built this place so I can heal the sick, a hospital nothing more. Now, it's little less than a church where the operating bed is the altar and in their eyes I am their god.

I once tried dissuading one of them from this train of thought.
A young lass named Lisa, who seemed to be in her second decade, and ill with Cancer. When dressing the now clear blisters on her skin and giving her some medicine for the pain she said she can't wait to get healed and travel to tell others about me and my miracles.
I immediately told her that they weren't miracles and that she's not getting any better, yet she was adamant. Her words exactly were..
“Oga, You go make me better small small. I don see you heal wound wey bad pass dis one for Mr Ben leg. I believe say you go do something for dis one too. Dem no even dey pain me like before, e don dey heal already.”
The fact that her elder parents looked at her and at me with eyes of hope made me realize there was no correcting her.

She's just one of the many examples of my forced apotheosis in this nation.
I've even been summoned to their king and have operated on his son who had a tumor in his leg. He's recuperating wonderfully by the way-but my good deeds aren't helping my case.
I write this letter in fear that my rise to godhood would be cut short and in tandem maybe my life. Sooner or later I'll be shown a case that I can't fix, a person I can't heal, a life I can't save.
They will soon realize I'm not all powerful and then they'd feel fooled by their ignorance.
They aren't the most technologically advanced but their brutality outranks ours by miles.

A young child once asked me that if gods died, where would they go?
Please Rachel, send help, because I personally do not want to find out.

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