Here's what happens when a preacher's kid goes to college and realizes there's more to the story than what he learned in Sunday Schools (or Sabbath Schools):

Hurricane prayer

When God planned the universes,

he said I’ll make this one big

and put tiny things in it.

They’ll feel lost, and worship me.

But someone pointed out

they might just as easily resent

being made so much smaller than the universe

and thus worship it instead.

So then he put tiny little universes

in all the black holes to see

who they would worship. But since

the black holes were singularities,

nothing went as planned in any of them,

not even responses to commandments

and threats. Then God had to pin

all his hopes on the big one

where butterflies and dark matter were

in equilibrium with chaos and hurricanes.

Everything was still and quiet in the eyes

of the hurricanes, which fascinated him so.

He sent them again and again, skipping

them like stones against the continents

where they always sputtered and died.

While they lasted they reminded him

of the black holes, spinning, glittering,

so strange and calm inside. Then, too,

there was the tinny sound of little voices

praying hardest when the hurricanes struck–

they were not worshiping, exactly,

but it was the closest thing to worship

he had heard, and

it would have to do for now.