Growing up, I was never really religious. My parents just never introduced me to it (we were a gluten free family). As I got older, I learned Him. Although I marveled at how the people rallied around the hope and glory that He represented, I myself could not see Him as any more than an inspirational fairy tale. Then, one day, I had an experience that changed my life forever. It was late at night, in a not-so-nice area of a big city that I barely knew. I was cold, hungry, without a penny to my name. I stumbled into a Murky alley, hoping to find shelter from the torrential downpour. As I rounded the corner, it happened. Out of nowhere, A glorious light flickered to life, revealing the words “Georgio’s Italian Diner”. I hunched under its awning, waiting for the rain to stop. Georgio, noticing my pathetic state, invited me to come into his establishment, and served me the largest plate of Spaghetti that I had ever seen. I thanked him for his hospitality, but warned him that I had no way to repay him. “Nonsense!” He said in a thick Italian accent, “Georgio know when a man need help.” I dug into the spaghetti, and in that moment, I knew that this brief respite from the cold harshness of reality was a gift sent to me by our lord and savior, the Flying Spaghetti Monster. From that day on, I have been a devout Pastafarian, spreading the good word across the land.
TL;DR: Raised agnostic, FSM saved me when I needed him most.