Testimonies of Ex-Christians

2010-02-21T16:36:00.005-05:00

The Search for Meaning

2010-02-04T14:38:00.013-05:00

A podcast by Dr. Marlene Winell

Dr. Marlene Winell, psychologist, educator, and writer in the San Francisco Bay Area as well as author of "Leaving the Fold," talks about her loss of Christian faith during an interview on the Australian radio program, "The Search for Meaning with Caroline Jones"

Caroline Jones (born Caroline Mary Newman, in 1938) is a distinguished Australian television journalist and social commentator. "The Search for Meaning."

You can also purchase an ebook version of Dr. Winell's book for $12 here. This includes two documents: The book, and a workbook with accompanying exercises.

Being a missionary showed me light

2010-02-04T13:54:00.000-05:00

By Naomi Prettyman

Image by exfordy via Flickr

I was raised in Kansas City, MO by my Charismatic Christian parents. I got "saved" when I was five years old, as do most children born into a Christian home. My mother homeschooled my seven siblings, and I and most of our friends were those from our church, raised in the same way as I.

We attended a non-denominational Christian church in Kansas City in which we practiced extreme Christianity. Worship services were more like raves, with people dancing in the aisles and speaking in tongues, having what seemed to be seizures on the floor. The documentary "Jesus Camp" reminds me of our sermons. We were "warriors for Christ." The church also sent some of it's members on mission trips, primarily in Mexico.

I submitted to all of this. My life goal at that time was to get married, have kids and serve the Lord. I was a typical teenage "Jesus Freak."

When I was 14, the church announced that they were looking for the right people to go on a mission trip to New Delhi, India. I felt that I needed to go. Another contributing factor to my wanting to go to India was that my best friend was also going and I did not want to be away from him. I raised money all summer; mowed lawns, sold Gold-C books, babysat, collected donations, etc.

So here I was, 14 years old on an airplane to India. The goal of our mission, as quoted by our team leader, was to "scout the land" and plant "house churches." We met many amazing Indian natives. We dressed in their native clothing and lived among them in a small village in New Delhi. The problem was, many of them practiced Hindu and Buddhism. We prayed over their "evil ways" and asked Jesus to come into their land and show them the light. I was completely for our cause. I prayed along and even cried for these "evil worshipers."

At the time we were in India, there was a religious holiday called Diwali, which we got the opportunity to experience. We saw the dedication these people had to their faith and how their religion is such a big part of their culture.

When I returned to the states, my 5-year-old sister became very ill. Because of my parents belief that God is the "Great Physician," my sister died on January 9th, 2004. (Google "Victory Halbert.") My parents were under investigation and my siblings and I were put into foster homes. We spent a total of about 3 years moving from foster home to group home and finally were returned to my father, who was now divorced from my mother. My father was depressed and drank a lot and pretty much let me do whatever I wanted.

Coming from the type of home I was raised in, being thrust into the secular world came as a shock to me. One day I was being home schooled by my mother, the next I was forced to go to public school in one of the worst districts in the state of MO.

I rebelled against everything I knew. I skipped school frequently, which led to me dropping out, partied with my new high school friends and eventually moved in with my boyfriend, who I met at school, when I was 17. Soon after, I got pregnant. I moved on with my life and let go of everything that was holding me back. My boyfriend and I got an apartment together and got engaged. In 2008, we had another baby and finally got married when I was 19 and he was 21. We moved into a new house and I ran a daycare out of our home and he, having a college degree, had a great job and we were financially secure.

My husband came from a Baptist background. He claimed to be a Christian, as did I, but we both struggled with our beliefs. Being young and not knowing what to do with that, we never really talked about religion.

I struggled with guilt about my trip to India. I started to realize what I was really doing there; preaching the word of God. Remembering how committed those Indians were to their faith, I realized that I had infiltrated their culture with my beliefs, which now don't even make sense to me. I read the Bible and tried to make sense of it, but I just couldn't. I greatly questioned the Christian religion and felt awkward talking about it with my husband, as I didn't know how he would react, being that he was Baptist.

Eventually it came out that he questioned the Bible and Christianity as well. I was relieved, but we still didn't know what to do about it.

In the summer of 2009, my father, who had radically denounced Christianity and somewhat "gone off the deep end" in his obsession with conspiracy theories and constant talk of religious dogmas, invited us to go on a camping trip in Mclouth, Kansas for a celebration called "Laid Back Labor Day." We were hesitant, as it was a Pagan campground...as Christians we were always taught that Pagans were "devil worshipers" and witches. We ended up going and it changed out lives. We now call ourselves Pagans, although we don't really practice anything, but are open to magic and mysticism and in love with nature.

I am no longer afraid of going to hell and being condemned by god. I realize now that NO ONE is right. How can any one religion be right? I think that religion is more so a matter of culture, I realize that now, especially because of my trip to India. The Indians are not evil just because the worship a god of a different name or because they have not accepted Jesus into their hearts. I know that now. I am free.

I'm not sure what the purpose of this story is. I think it is more of an affirmation of who I am than it is a testimony. I just know that I am happy now and that I am lucky to have my husband to share in my beliefs and realizations of our past as christians. I am glad that I can come here and share my story without being told that I am going to hell (which I am told a lot, even though I do not believe in hell anymore!)

I was not scared into my beliefs. As a Christian, I obeyed for that very reason: fear. I didn't want to be condemned by god to hell, and I tried to live my life according to the bible solely because I wanted to go to heaven. I have a lot to say about the bible, but I won't go into that here.

I must admit that I DO still struggle with fear because of Christianity. I sometimes find myself thinking "what if I'm wrong...what if there is a hell and I'm headed there?" Then I have to shake myself and remind myself that hell was invented by the christians in order to make a perfect world.

Any thoughts on this? I would love to hear from you.

Thank you for reading.

Leaving the Church

2010-02-04T13:41:00.000-05:00

By Kenneth S. (via Carl S.)

Image by sarowen via Flickr

I was raised in a Catholic family, and went to a Catholic school for almost eight years. In my last year I had an older nun, Sister Raymond, around 65 years-old, who did not like me because I used to ask her things that she could not explain. At the time I was following the crowd and dressed and acted the way I thought was popular (wrong). The nuns used to pull my hair and punish me because I had a DA (duck’s ass) haircut and wore pegged pants.

I told my mother, “I have to get out of that school,” but she said, “You have to go to Catholic school.”

Anyway, the next week, I was wrestling with a friend outside the church’s side door, and I pushed his head through it (stained glass). Guess who was right inside? Sister Raymond!

The next week I was in public school. WOW! All the girls had breasts and nice legs, and were friendly. I didn’t know that life could be so free, where I could think and act as I pleased without sinning.

Anyhow, after experiencing a pretty good life for a few years, when I was seventeen years-old I left home (due to circumstances beyond my control - another story). I joined the navy.

When I got out, I was ready to settle down. I had a girlfriend who wanted to get married in a Catholic Church, so she went to classes and converted. When we went to get married, she was baptized by the same priest who baptized me 22 years earlier. Everything went good.

Nine months later, we had a baby girl (very good). About a year later, we were having marital problems, so we went to see our priest. We were talking to him and the first thing he asked was, “Are you practicing birth control?” And I said “Yes.” He responded, “I or the church can do nothing to help you.” I said, “Take your goddamn church and shove it.” Never been back.

I was de-converted by the Bible

2010-02-01T07:48:00.001-05:00

By Sylvester

Image by knowhimonline via Flickr

I converted to Christianity when I was 17, without knowing much about the bible and the religion.

I began attending church regularly when I was 18 and soon was all "on fire" for Jesus. I "served" all I could, spent all my time in church and soon was promoted to become an "area" leader, in charge of about a 100 youths.

I began to doubt when I was 22, after 4 years in church.

I questioned the rules ands regulations of my ex-church. Rules like prohibiting girls to wear "tight" fitting clothes, prohibiting colouring of hair, and compulsory attendance for service and cellgroup. Of course after a while, I brushed it aside. I prayed and thought that god would take those doubts away.

A year ago, my doubts were still not going away. In fact, things became worse. I began reading the bible thoroughly, hoping to find an answer for my doubts.

But the more I read the bible, the more I was appalled at the contents. I couldn't believe that there were errors, inconsistencies and many scientific errors in it. I was also horrified that "god" actually commanded the deaths of so many innocent people (babies, women, children) in the bible just because they were his enemies.

I approached my leaders regarding the bible and of course, in all Christian fashion, they told me that I was questioning too much and gave me ridiculous answers such as "God had to kill them because they were sinful".

I also began arguing with my pastors about the church's rules and restrictions. Of course I was immediately labeled as "wayward" and "unsubmissive".

Finally in 2009 February, I decided enough was enough. There were enough reasons for me to leave the religion.

AND so I left church and Christianity, and today I am so much happier.

Taking the Red Pill

2010-01-31T09:01:00.002-05:00

By BillRPJ

I fell in love with Jesus when I was 12 years old. On the back wall of the baptistery of the Chemung Baptist Church, there was a life-size picture of Jesus as a shepherd, a crook in one hand, cradling a soft, little lamb in the other. As I looked at the face of Jesus, I felt that his eyes were gazing right into my soul — kind eyes, eyes of love. I can recall the picture of Jesus like it was yesterday.

When I turned 12, my father decided that I needed religion so I was sent off to Vacation Bible School in the summer of ’72. I was enraptured by the story of how he came to earth as a baby born of a virgin, did miracles to prove that he was God, died for my sins so that I could be forgiven, and rose again to make a way so that I could go to live with him in heaven forevermore. The VBS teacher said that all I needed to do in order to go to heaven someday was to tell Jesus that I was a sinner, that I was sorry for my sins, and ask him to come into my heart to live. Of course, being in a Baptist church I was also warned about the consequences if I refused to believe in Jesus, namely, going to hell. But it was the love of Jesus that drew me and I responded to that love by becoming a Christian. Nevertheless, I think it is important to note that Christianity does its best to try to get a hold of children before they have developed critical thinking skills. If it can do this, then it puts them in its "Matrix" before they even know what truth and reality is. For a child or young person, truth most often comes, not from the consideration and study of evidence, but from an authority figure, often a parent or a priest. "Because I said so," was often my father's reply as to why I should do a thing. And "because the Bible says so" is the Christian mantra (although it needs to be pointed out that Christians are very much cherry-pickers when it comes to the parts of the Bible they believe or act on). I accepted this "blue pill" because it was handed to me by people I trusted and it promised me a blissful afterlife.

Things at home were rather rocky. As far back as I can remember, my parents were always fighting with one another over something and I can remember thinking that they were the ones who really needed to go to church. Growing up in the farming countryside of upstate New York, I spent a lot of time exploring the woods and nature around me. There were plenty of times that I took my Bible with me up into my tree-house and just spent time reading the scriptures, learning everything I could about God and Jesus and their plan for my life. As I read about God being a deliverer, a protector, a rock, and about Jesus being a savior, I prayed that God would also deliver me from the child abuse that I sometimes experienced and that he would heal my parent’s marriage. But despite my prayers, things continued to get worse. I began to struggle with the efficacy of prayer. Despite all the promises in the Bible that God hears and answers our prayers, my prayers for the wholeness of my family were not answered. I'm not talking about God forcefully violating what is called human "free will", but if God is omniscient, then he would certainly know exactly how to reach everyone of us, what would "throw our switch", so-to-speak.

In ’75, my parents divorced. I suppose that this could be seen as one way that God answered my prayers, but it still hurt nonetheless. My mother started attending a Pentecostal church and “found Jesus.” We were both “on fire” for Jesus. I took my Bible to school with me throughout my high school years and witnessed to anyone I felt God was leading me to.

After high school, I went to a Bible college and then came back home and married a Christian girl I met in high school. We both came from rocky home backgrounds but felt like we could make it because we were, after all, Christians with God on our side. So we married and I decided to go into the Army to get electronics training in order to provide for my family. Despite the fact that we were both Christians, our marriage was a struggle. We both came from broken homes where problems had been dealt with, not by the hard work of communication and compromise, but with holding grudges and getting divorces. So neither of us was really equipped to work out our problems and all the going to church and praying that we did just didn’t seem to help. After five years of marriage, we divorced – the unforgivable sin in modern Christianity (despite the fact that over 50% of Southern Baptists have been divorced and remarried). Due to the fact that I was still in the service, she got custody of our two children. I was decimated. After all, despite many things in my past and in my life that may have been stacked against me, didn’t God have “a wonderful plan” for me? Didn’t Jesus come to give me an abundant life? I was disillusioned – with myself, my life, and my religion. So I stopped going to church as I tried to recover from the shambles that my life was in.

Probably the most important thing that I learned from this period of my life is that guilt is the main tool used by Christians to keep people within the Christian Matrix. That and threats of hell. Couple guilt and hell together, and people will stay within this paradigm for life. Christianity told me I was guilty because of what Adam and Eve did, guilty for sins I committed, guilty for the sins of not doing what I should have done, and guilty for killing Jesus. I was told that I was to blame for the problems in my life. This is one of the problems that can drive someone in Christianity nuts – it is never really God’s fault if something goes wrong. If things go right, God is thanked and given full credit, but failure is always attributed to personal sin or to original sin or to the devil or to a sinful world. Disappointments and hurts in life are never blamed on the God that is said to be “in control” and who is running this universe according to his divine plan. God always seems to be blameless where human suffering is concerned. I didn’t dare think this way back then; I just felt that the failure was mainly on my part because I was, after all, a sinful human being. Church reinforced that notion to me every Sunday.

I eventually found some healing through an older Christian who counseled me. He assured me that God could and would forgive my sin and restore me if I sincerely repented. This, of course, is the “formula” for staying in fellowship with God in Christianity: a constant cycle of sin, repentance, and restoration. This is how Christians “keep their slate clean” before God. They intuitively know that they can’t stop sinning, so the best they can do is to try to stay forgiven. Ironically, their relationship with God doesn’t really stop the sinning, it only forgives it afterward. But I did find some healing through this Christian’s counseling. His beliefs in God’s ability to restore were tested when I began to show an interest in his daughter. I knew she was special from the moment I met her and she was very accepting of me and even of my two children. We began dating and married almost a year later.

My wife and I became very involved in our local churches, both Southern Baptist and then Bible Churches. But I slowly began to grow a little agitated with the kind of Christianity that I was involved with. Maybe because of my past, coming from a poor, broken family, going through brokenness myself, I felt like Christians ought to be doing more to help the poor and broken instead of just sitting in pews singing, “I’ll Fly Away.” I began to wonder, “Why is Christianity so focused on leaving this world instead of on changing it for the better?” I wondered why Christians weren’t doing more to follow Jesus’ teachings about helping the poor, setting captives free, healing the sick and broken, and living out the Sermon on the Mount. I felt that Christianity was almost entirely focused on only “personal” issues – personal sins, personal forgiveness, leaving this world for a personal heaven where we would get personally rewarded. After all, didn’t “the Lord’s Prayer” mention God’s will be done on earth? Because the Christianity I knew was so eager to leave earth, it wasn’t concerned whether the earth was destroyed through war or misuse. For every song we sang that emphasized “This is My Father’s World”, we sang nine others that emphasized “This World Is Not My Home, I’m Just A’Passin’ Through.” And I found that most of the songs and sermons I heard were not about what God could do through us here for the sake of others but only about what Jesus has done for us personally in order to take us to heaven later. I began to see that despite claims to the contrary, Christianity is a very self-centered religion, that it is all about what God or Jesus does for us with very little about what we could do for others.

The “coupe de grace” came for me in this form of Christianity when one day during church service, my wife and I were called out of the service to come tend our 4-year-old son who was in Children’s Church. When we got there, he was in the hall, crying hysterically. Between sobs, he repeated, “Daddy, why would Jesus burn me? Why?” I assured him that Jesus loved him and would never burn him but he was simply too scared to really listen to what I was saying. My wife took him out to the car and I went into the Children’s Church room to see what had happened. The teacher had shown the kids an artist’s rendition of a man engulfed in flames, his arms raised to heaven, his face contorted with agony, crying out to heaven with a plea for mercy that would never be heard. She told the kids that this is what would happen to them if they did not accept Jesus as their personal savior. I reminded her that Jesus never once threatened children with hell but she insisted that she did not want God holding the blood of these children on her hands.

I was struggling myself at this time with the question of how a good and loving God could sentence people that he supposedly loves to eternal torment for finite sin, a question that no Christian that I have ever met has given me a convincing answer to. But I knew for sure that it was inappropriate to foist this doctrine upon young children and asked one of the church elders if a teacher should be allowed to expose children to this “side” of the “good news.” His response was that truth should be taught to all and that, no surprise here, “the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.” It’s probably also the seed of many a psychotic break. We left that church shortly after that.

I was also struggling with Paul’s writings during this time. Paul wanted women to be quiet in church, to never have any authority over men, to never teach men anything. Paul supports slavery in his writings. Paul thinks that government officials rule by “divine right.” And Paul puts forth this offensive doctrine that everyone is born into this world as an evil human being, deserving, not God’s love, but his wrath and destruction in hell. According to Paul, even babies are “born sinners” and will go to hell if they have not believed Paul’s gospel about believing in Jesus’ death and resurrection. This is the “good news” to the world?

I discovered in my youth that being a Christian was no guarantee that life would go well. The Bible itself is contradictory on this subject. Sometimes it says that the faithful will be blessed, sometimes it says that the wicked will prosper. But the evangelical call to faith certainly entails a promise of a redeemed, wonderful life. No evangelist says, "Come to Jesus and see how messed up your life will become." The truth of the matter is that life is simply messy, Christian or not. We and our world are complicated and despite Christianity's claims, there are no magic bullets.

I also think it is important to note how contradictory the Bible is about the nature of God and of what he supposedly desires for mankind. Now, I'm no longer in the Christian Matrix so I no longer believe in God, but it is interesting how the scriptures have a verse or a concept for saying almost anything about God that we might want to believe. Christians are very much cherry-pickers about which verses of the Bible and which concepts of God they hold to. So the crisis in my faith really began, not because I wasn't reading my Bible and praying, but because I was. The more I read my Bible, the more I saw how contradictory and nonsensical it was. And the more I prayed, the more I felt I was hitting a glass ceiling. Christians are really good at counting the hits and ignoring the misses. I began seeing the ugly side of Christianity - the constant guilt, the fear of good works, the desire to escape the world, the constant harping on hell, and the adherence to ancient superstitions - and it was too much to ignore.

Overall, I think most of my problems were simply what was going on in my own heart and mind. The more I studied the Bible, the more contradictions I found there and the more I saw things in the scriptures that I felt were immoral or unethical. Things like God killing women and children in the flood. Things like God commanding the Israelites to kill their enemies, including women and children. Things like God testing people (remember Job) when he is supposedly omniscient. Things like God wanting his people to show their devotion to him by mutilating their sexual organs. Things like the notion that blood can somehow remove sin. Things like God sending evil spirits. Things like God hardening Pharaoh’s heart and then destroying him for having a hard heart. Things like God commanding genocide. I couldn’t help but wonder, this is the God that so loved the world?

Some would argue that this is the God of the Old Testament and that Jesus came to show us a different view of God, a “New Testament” God, a kinder, gentler God. But the God that Jesus describes, while maybe not calling for God’s people to kill their enemies, steps things up by warning people of everlasting torment. In the OT, if you sinned against God, you were just killed for your sin. In the NT, if you sin against God or Jesus, you suffer unending torture.

And, to top it all off, I’ve never been comfortable with all of Jesus’ teachings either. After all, according to the gospels:

He said that he didn't come to bring peace to the earth, but to bring a sword.
He said we should to hate our families.
He said that we shouldn’t marry or have children.
He never denounced slavery; instead he advocated that some slaves should be beaten harder than others.
He supported physical mutilation – cutting off your hand/ foot and gouging out your eye.
He said that the poor would always be with us.
He said that marrying divorced women is forbidden.
He forbade planning for the future.
He forbade having sexual urges.
He forbade stopping thieves or physical attackers.

Image by Jonathan L D Bennett via Flickr

It began to dawn on me that despite Christianity’s claims, the Bible is not a perfect book and Jesus was not a perfect person. The Bible is simply a record of what ancient peoples thought about God, the world, and their place and purpose within it. And Jesus was just as human as all the rest of us. Christianity wasn’t even the religion that Jesus practiced. It’s the religion centered on worshipping him. But I have to wonder, has this religion, taken as a whole, brought more harm or good to this world? Are Christians necessarily better people than anyone else? I think not. It was Christians who burnt women as witches (with biblical sanction). It was Christians who burnt scholars for translating the Bible into English. It was Christians who stood against women’s rights (with biblical sanction). It was Christians who stood against the abolition of slavery in this country (with biblical sanction) and who donned the robes of the KKK. It was Christians who stood against the civil rights movement of the ‘60s. It was Christians who wanted us to go to war with Iraq and destroy that country in retribution for 9-11. And for any Christian to deny these things proves that they either don’t know their history or they simply chose to ignore it.

The Christianity I have known is, for the most part, a personal religion about how to get one’s personal sins forgiven so that one can gain personal rewards in a personal heaven in the future. It doesn’t seem to be much about how to compassionately change our world for the better for the sake of others here and now and for humanity’s future. Truth be told, if heaven is simply standing or kneeling before God's throne for all eternity, repeatedly telling God how great he is, that just doesn't sound like much of a "purpose-driven afterlife" to me. People that constantly need to be told how great they are have some serious self-worth and self-image problems, no matter how divine they might claim to be.

So I have little use for Christianity. I don’t believe it makes our world or human beings better. People are people, Christian or not. It’s not that we are all sinners; it’s that we aren’t yet mature human beings. I want to be a better person, to be a more mature, well-rounded individual. I don't think that the way forward is into an ancient, superstitious religion. Instead, I face the hard work of rebuilding my life based upon what I - not the Bible, not Jesus, not the church - think is worthy of my time and labor. That notion is very freeing to me. I've left Christianity. After 32 years in the religion, I grew tired of the nonsense, of the constant guilt, of the pressure to conform, of the lack of convincing evidence, and of the notion that Iron Age religion and worldviews are "timeless truths" that should never be challenged by science, logic, or progressive morality. I don't want to waste whatever life I have left in a religion that, all things considered, doesn't make it's followers or the world a better place. People (and all life) are precious. So is our world. We don’t yet know if we are the only intelligent life in the universe. This shouldn’t make us proud, it should make us wonder that we are here to explore, enjoy, and value existence. And that is what I want to do.

Whenever I think of religion, I think of the military

2010-01-31T07:45:00.000-05:00

By 0pen ur Mind

Image by Toni Travels via Flickr

I grew up in a Christian home, loving, never to question authority, always bring it to God and you will be blessed. If I wasn’t, well... God was testing me. Growing up it never crossed my mind that there was something else to believe in. I was the good girl who had the truth on her lips. God is good, how can he not be? Not until college did I expand my mind and fully open it. It’s a brief overpass of my history, but a lot of you know exactly how my “upbringing” went. It wasn’t until I met my future husband that everything finally made sense.

Back up to my high school years... I went to church, gave my life to Jesus Christ, gave 10%, hung out with Christians, but also wasn’t afraid to have secular friends either. Although I still felt that I was right and they were wrong for drinking beer. Towards my college years, I became more liberal. I got a few tattoos, had boyfriends but was still a virgin because I promised God I would painfully do it. I had in my mind like a lot of young Christians who “are saving themselves” that sex was something magical and every time you would have it (with your spouse) it was going to be AMAZING, therefore it was worth the wait. Ohhh deary, how naive I was. Don’t get me wrong, sex is wonderful, especially with someone you love. But let’s be realistic about it. You have to work at it, treat it with respect and as a normal part of a relationship with another person and with yourself.

Going away to college I felt that I was closer to God than ever. I was reading the scripture, praying, doing what I had to do to get into Heaven. I was single, independent and loving it! I didn’t see the problem with drinking socially, I rarely got stupid drunk, and I wanted to show the non-believers that not all Christians are squares. And with a fling romance I lost my virginity. I was still a Christian, but took pleasure in worldly things. I detested those Christians who were holier than thou. I was a loving person who would share that love without boundaries. I was so sure in my walk with God that there was not a single doubt of another way to live. Never say never.

I felt obligation towards God to bring non-believers to the light and truth, but I wasn’t going to force them, as so many have done in the past. But my questioning was just another doubt, so I locked it away, far away.

This whole time I was justifying my beliefs. I would use the Bible to say, that they would drink wine—or, the men back then had no weddings or paperwork, it was plain and simple—he saw, he took for his wife, and then he got her pregnant. Then he took another wife and possibly a maidservant. I felt that my way of living had much more meaning than that. I still believed in God whole-heartedly, I wanted to please Him, and I couldn’t wait to get to Heaven. And all those questions that non-believers or soul searchers had about God or the Bible--I couldn’t answer. We are taught to be okay with not knowing. God is full of mystery and He is doing things we couldn’t fathom. I wasn’t threatened by their questions, because I knew what I believed. Little did I know, they tell you that to keep you dumb. Not make up your mind on your own.

After college I met a man. He was kind, self-confident, helped others in need, smart, etc. I knew that he wasn’t a Christian and I was fine with that, he seemed more to me a Christian than a lot of people at my church. I always had the mind set that he would turn to Christ. He was willing to talk about God and religion if I wanted to. He never imposed his beliefs on me, and he never complained when I would wake up early and go to church. I always tried to get him to come with me, but he just smiled and made a lighting bolt sound as if he would be struck as soon as he entered the doors.

It wasn’t until then when I started to realize that you don’t have to believe in God to be a good person. Wow, it dawned on me that what if this whole time, I was believing in something fictional. Whoa, that’s a lot to handle since NEVER before I had thought of anything but what I was taught as a child and teenager. So yes, I had been brainwashed. Living with a veil over my eyes this whole time. Well needless to say, I did my research (a lot) and was completely amazed at how things didn’t make sense. I had started to form my own answers with my own opinions for the first time in my life and not somebody else’s. Seeing both sides of the story is key to forming your own beliefs. Not only seeing, but without judgment as well. I mean, it was obvious—the Bible was bias and contradicting. Where are the stories from the Egyptians? Or anybody else for that matter? I wanted to make up my mind in seeing everyone’s opinion. Not just take my Mother’s and Pastor’s word that they were sinning. Hence, God wiped them out. Never hearing their side of the story?? What??

I tried to take it in strides, but this was INCREDIBLE! Then I look over at my now husband and asked him, “Why didn’t you shake me and tell me I was wasting my time.” He answers me in the most simple of forms: I have never been judgmental of other people beliefs nor do I ever want to influence or question anyone’s beliefs.
“That was why I never believed in god and didn’t agree with religion,” he said.

So I’ve been living in the clear for almost a year now. I’ve never been so happy to be okay with my choices and not have to justify them. At first, I was all about arguing my points and trying to let my still Christian friends and family see another side to the story. It’s no use; their god will always win. Either he is testing you or blessing you. By no means should you question him either. So I stopped arguing, because if they’re proven wrong (which they are; many of you have helped me with polishing my history knowledge), then you don’t have to prove yourself. Prove it, give me proof that there’s a heaven. You simply cannot. Besides, if we’re trying to say we’re right, we’re doing the very thing that religion does and why we hate it so. Our actions speak louder than words.

It’s simple; god said after Noah and his family came out of the ark, that “Never again will I curse the ground because of man, even though every inclination of his heart is evil from childhood.” If every man is evil, then how can you believe in something that man wrote? For so much of the Bible--I was always justifying and saying that I don’t really believe that part of it. That’s being selective and lying to yourself. Either believe whole-heartedly in it or against it.

A while back I read about someone being a Christian but not always agreeing with what they do or what the church does. My question to them is, do you believe everything that god did? Killing Aaron’s two sons while they were making a sacrifice unto him. But they lit the fire before he said to, so he killed them. We all have plenty more where that came from.

Whenever I think of religion, I think of the military. What does the military do? It breaks you down mentally as well as physically, it brainwashes you to believe and do as you’re told without question, and who do you answer to and listen to? Your commanding officer (your pastor); and even higher than that, your government (god), It’s a scary thought. Nobody should own you and you should feel no obligation to something you were born into.

Accentuate the Positive -- Ignore the Negative

2010-01-30T03:10:00.001-05:00

By J

Image by asparagus_hunter via Flickr

My ex-relationship with Christianity is perhaps unique, in that my family attended an Evangelical church, but one whose pastor was nonetheless pretty progressive or diplomatic in his views. (i.e. he rarely mentioned hell, End Times, or even sin in his sermons. It was just "love" and "the Good News.")

But the Sunday School classes (6th grade specifically) were taught by less diplomatic people. They were volunteers which basically meant two things: they obviously were passionate about what they were doing to do it for free, and they had no worries about money or church attendance, so they didn't need to be uplifting or popular in what they said.

So as my parents listened in the main church building about how God is love and sin is forgiven and nicety after sugar-coated nicety (as, I've come to learn since, this is pretty much their entire view of Christianity... they are not fundamentalists, thank goodness) I was in another building in Sunday School, listening to fundamentalist lunatic volunteer "teachers" spouting off about the End Times, God's wrath, Hell, and forcing us to sit through the Left Behind movies. I'm 19 now, and this was right after 9/11, so we also got tons of sermons about how 9/11 was a sign of the End Times and that it proves what worshiping "false" gods leads to.

So for many years I internalized this (I was only 11 after all) believing all of it was true. I lay awake at night worrying that if I drifted off to sleep, my family would be raptured overnight and I'd wake up alone in the "Great Tribulation." (My ironic belief being that if I were awake when the "Rapture" occurred, I'd at least be able to argue with Jesus that I was a "real" Christian and perhaps convince him to take me along after all)

After 6th grade, junior high and high school @ church were fine because, once again, they catered to the students' desires to fit in, find "family," be accepted, etc. So it was very candy-coated, love-centered, and progressive (or as progressive as a Baptist church can get).

I believed in a very vague Christianity throughout high school as a result, never questioning it and at the same time rarely thinking about it or letting it affect anything in my life. I went to church without complaint and didn't mind because I never listened anyway, and I liked to go out to eat afterward.

After reading Sam Harris's Letter to a Christian Nation, I am now fully an atheist. Luckily my family has been pretty supportive though they are still Christian and don't know I'm an atheist, just that I am no longer Christian. For a brief period I had a Muslim girlfriend (the relationship soured because... YOU GOT IT! I wouldn't convert to Islam) but my family accepted her and did not tell me they had a problem with the fact she was Muslim. My mother even told me, "She's a keeper." And this had a severe effect on me. On one hand, my mother believed that this woman would spend eternity in agonizing fiery torture (simply for not believing in something) and on the other hand she liked her and said that she'd be a good wife for me, even. This really showed me the divided-ness of a religious mind. The reason they can go on believing in a God of "love" is because unless confronted with questions about Hell, etc. They don't think about it much. They focus on the good feeling they have at church or while praying, and the "message of hope" and almost entirely ignore the sinister parts of their faith.

Atheist Churchgoers Anonymous?

2010-01-26T03:00:00.000-05:00

By Vyckie @ No Longer Quivering

I've skipped church four Sundays in a row now and I'm feeling slightly guilty. It's freezing-ass cold here in Nebraska, and I just have been too lazy to scoop the driveway and drag myself and my children out in sub-zero temps. Considering that I stopped believing in God over two years ago, it seems rather weird that I still spend my Sunday mornings attending the local Salvation Army worship services. So why don't I just quit going?

I didn't leave Christianity because of any failure of the people. For the most part, I found the Christians I knew to be sincere, generous and supportive. Misguided and unrealistic, maybe - but hey, that was me too.

It was the Bible and Christian doctrine which I finally recognized as ridiculous and even abusive. Through the years, I had become more and more fundamentalist in my beliefs and practices. My diligent study of the scriptures led me to adopt the strict gender roles and patriarchal family model of the Quiverfull movement as God's perfect will for godly men and women. I accepted all the pregnancies which the Lord chose to bless me with, homeschooled my children and "dared to shelter" them from ungodly influences of the world, and for over a decade I obediently submitted to the "head" of our home: my controllling and abusive husband.

It was a stressful and unsustainable lifestyle which led to near breakdown for me - and a suicide attempt for my oldest daughter.

When I first deconverted, I continued to go to church because the pastor had been especially supportive during the ugly custody battle when I filed for divorce.

About six months after the divorce, the pastor was transferred and the church got a new husband / wife team ~ Salvation Army officers, Xavier and Heather. I had decided to continue going to church through the summer so that the kids could go to the camps (sports, music, and adventure camps) for free. But I decided to be upfront with Heather and let her know right away that I don't believe in Christianity anymore. (I knew I had to say something before they tried to recruit me to teach the kids' Sunday School - wouldn't that be a hoot!)

At first, she didn't believe that I really don't believe - but we really hit it off and became friends fairly quickly. We go out for coffee or lunch together at least once a week. We've been doing this for about a year and a half now and it didn't take long for me to say what I had to say about my unbelief and her to say what she had to say - and now it doesn't really come up much in our conversation. Not that we're avoiding it - just that we've kind of moved past that and just enjoy our friendship. We have a lot in common and so there's always plenty to talk about.

Heather is the sort of Christian whom, in my fundie days, I'd have considered a shallow, "feel good" believer. She loves Jesus and is committed to serving Him, yes - but she is not a fundamentalist and doesn't take every word of the Bible literally.

I asked Heather once what it means to her that, as Paul says, the man is the head of the home. Does that mean Xavier gets to make the final decision whenever you two can’t come to an agreement on a particular issue? “No,” she responded. She paused to think about it for a minute, and then told me, “I guess I don’t really know what it means.” I appreciate her honesty.

I also appreciate that as Salvation Army officers, my pastors are truly the "roll-up-their-sleeves-and-get-the-job-done" type of Christians. If they must say a prayer as they distribute, food, clothing, school supplies, etc. to the needy - so be it. If they give a little Bible study as they're opening up the mobile canteen - that does not offend me. Lt. Xavier will soon be leaving for Haiti to assist in doing what the Salvation Army does in emergency situations. Better he does that, than waste time writing up a sermon to explain all the whys and wherefores of the disaster as it relates to God and the Bible.

At first, continuing to go to church was sort of a confirmation for me that I really didn't believe any of it any more. All at once, it all seemed so crazy to me that I thought, "I must have misunderstood what they are teaching. Surely, no-one really believes this?" So I'd go to church and listen carefully, and sure enough - that's exactly what they're teaching. It helped me to feel confident that what I don't believe isn't just a straw man - some wacko God that only I believed in while other Christians have a more "balanced" view of the bible, Jesus, etc.

So initially church was still interesting enough - but now I'm to the point that it is literally physically and mentally painful for me to make it through the morning service. I can't "in good conscience" participate - which makes it a frustrating and awkward experience. The words to the songs are sick and mortifying. Praise and worship used to be my favorite thing because I love music, and praise just comes so easily for me. So I want to sing and dance - but I don't want to sing about what a worm I am or how thankful I am for Jesus' shed blood, etc. A lot of the Salvation Army songs include "battle" language which makes me cringe. So that's something to be endured. Prayer time is tricky too. They take prayer requests from the congregation and I never raise my hand. When it's time to pray, I don't bow my head or close my eyes.

Anyway, I'm still going to church because that's where my social life is (mostly). I love the people there - and I really like Heather. There's always lunch in the "Sally Ann" soup kitchen after church and that's when I have a truly fun and enjoyable time visiting with all my down-on-their-luck friends. There are also other activities that we do together which the children and I like: picnics, movie night, etc. It is getting more uncomfortable for me all the time. Xavier is certain that this is because I'm feeling the conviction of the Holy Spirit - which is truthfully, horseshit.

Lately though, I've been thinking that there's another reason why I still go to church and might continue for some time to come. As an ex-Christian, I sometimes feel like the lame, half-witted child which a nice respectable family might want to tuck quietly away in a distant care facility to avoid the embarrassment of having to explain how their well-bred DNA could result in such a deformed, mutated offspring.

On my No Longer Quivering blog, I have been fairly vocal about the family-destroying Quiverfull teachings - which, I maintain, is nothing more than basic Christian doctrine lived out to its logical conclusions. And it often seems to me that Christians would prefer that I would just quietly disappear - stay home on Sundays and pretend that it was all a bad dream.

But I haven't gone away. Which means they still have to think about me - have to explain me.

They see me, they know me - I am a real person - same as them.

For their part, Xavier and Heather have been thoughtful and gracious. Despite my "defects" of divorce, loss of faith, etc., they still claim me and do not dismiss my experience by arguing that I was never really a True Christian. They are careful that in their teachings, they do not promulgate the patriarchal set-up which has devastated countless marital relationships through the centuries (mine included) - even if it means they have to ignore or torturously "reinterpert" the bible verses which historically have been used to support such sexism.

Conversely, remaining in close contact with practicing Christians helps me to remember that they do what they're doing for all the same reasons that used to motivate me too: a sincere heart and genuine desire to love the Lord and to love their neighbors. This keeps me from building up a caricature of "Christian people" in my own mind whom I must fight against and expose as deluded and hypocritical.

I see them, I know them - they are real people - same as me.

So when I write or speak about the evils of Christian fundamentalism and biblical literalism, I'm talking about words, ideas, beliefs, thoughts which affect and influence the flesh-and-blood people who listen to these abstractions and take them to heart. The people themselves - they're just like me; eager to know the truth and to do right.

Does this make sense? Or am I, in true fundamentalist fashion, twisting my brain in knots in an effort to justify something obviously and utterly ridiculous? Perhaps what I need is an Atheist Churchgoers' 12-Step recovery group:

Hi. My name is Vyckie. I am an atheist and I go to church.

Off with the yoke

2010-01-26T02:44:00.002-05:00

By Kalos

“There are tons of religions in the world… but only ours is right?” I asked my mom, I couldn’t have been much older than five years old.

“Yes.” she said, and then smiled and chuckled in a way that seemed to say she was uncomfortable sounding so smug but she did believe what she said. For some reason that explanation was enough for me for so many years to come…

Hello, I am a person that knows the Xian community very well. Like many of you I grew up in the church, the Southern Baptist church to be specific. Like anyone I had no idea what I was doing until I was older so I will quickly skip to what Xians would call my testimony. To set the stage I had never really fit in with the kids at my church but my parents pushed me into the youth group. I’m actually happy for that part because it expanded my social comfort zone but that’s a different story. I had a couple friends from school but they were not that close, we just hung out without really talking about anything important and sometimes I wondered if they even liked me. I was in that state largely because my social growth was stunted by a bad decision I had made. In elementary school before I moved to a new city I felt like I said a lot of stupid things so to make a good impression I just didn’t talk much at all in my new school. That decision became a habit but in my freshmen year of high school I hit a breaking point.

I still remember, it was on the bus home one day and a pretty girl mentioned something that I knew about. I thought of some joke to tell her that would have started a conversation but I didn’t say it. I just sat there silently. That was the final straw. That day I vented to an online friend and vowed to break out of my shell. It was the beginning of an intellectual awakening for up to that point I really had not done much thinking at all.

Now, back to church. Wednesday night services had always been lonely and awkward for me but a group of people took me in even though I was odd and didn’t talk much. One Wednesday the youth pastor was talking about giving one’s life to Christ. I’d heard about believing but that part was new. I was desperate and felt that I knew nothing of what to do with my life so I earnestly prayed that God take my life and do with it as he wished. The next Wednesday night my friends were late so I aimlessly wandered around the sanctuary for a while and then stopped to watch a video that was on a big projector. To my right I heard the voice of a girl that I vaguely knew. She had visited another church on the same day my family had before we decided on staying at the church I was in at that moment. This girl, we will call her Veronica, recognized me from there and so she vaguely knew me. I went and sat with her and her friend Robin. These two were unlike the group that hung out with me, they were both pretty and I thought they were cooler so I wanted to hang around them more and eventually got a crush on Robin. My want to be with this girl turned out to be exactly what I needed to drive me far outside of my shell. However in my trying to woo this girl I found out that she was not impressed by how I would zone out during Sunday School so I began to listen for the first time in my church life and I was amazed at what I heard. I loved the lessons I heard and started to become a real Xian. Looking back I thought that the odds of me meeting up with those two girls was very low. I mean what were the odds that my friends would be late, that I would have visited that one church at the same time as Veronica, and that I would have stopped to watch the movie right where she was sitting, eh? God must have heard my prayer, taken control of my life, and had a plan to make me the person I wanted to be! Never mind that I would have ran into Veronica and Robin eventually in that church since they were regulars, never mind that my group of friends there were late every now and then, and never mind my drive to change my life I had made up my mind that God had officially began to guide me down his exciting path. Funny enough this was a story that supported my faith for years to come because I just couldn’t understand things like chance and coincidence. (Xians will swear coincidence doesn’t exist and that when things with low chances happen it must be the hand of God)

That awakening lead me to getting more involved in the youth group, coming out of my shell, and growing as a person more than I ever had in my life but then my family moved. The move threw me through many trials that I am still glad I went through. The Xian part of me back then would have told you it was God’s plan to move me there so that I wouldn’t just settle into my new friends and thus make a new shell that I’d need to break later, that God put me in a church where I had no good friends so that I would pass the test of just going to church just for him, and that my trials their made me start actually reading the Bible. The truth was it was my dad’s plan to be closer to his job that moved us there, not making another shell was a good thing, and I had no friends at that church because I don’t relate to rednecks.

My dad’s company moved him to a new city once I had made friends again but this time I knew that God knew what he was doing so I was excited. (There was also the fact that I had only been there a year and wasn’t very attached to that place). I had learned in the meantime an extremely value lesson, to be content and happy even when my situation was not the best. I learned it from the words of Paul and from Jesus’ talk on not worrying but really if someone I respected would have just told me “I just try to be happy no matter what my situation; and why worry about stuff? It’s not like worrying chances anything.” Then I would have still learned but I attributed these things to the Bible and my spiritual growth. I did not find any flaw with the Bible as I read through it because I read from the firm mindset that it was God’s word breathed. One can rationalize just about anything in their own mind so I found the Bible to be faultless. Don’t underestimate the power of years of dogma and a made up mind.

When we moved again I realized I thought way too much and needed to just talk to people. Then I met some great people that are still my beloved friends today. I thought that after tons and tons of tests God had finally given me what I wanted. I had confidence, good social skills, and wonderful friends. High School was actually really fun after that. So is college, and so is life in general. Anyway, now for the turning point.

I’ve always been a fairly rational person, but often times it takes me a while to realize very obvious things about myself. The experiences I have shared above were the basis for my faith and so I continued to reason from the assumption that the Xian God, Jesus Christ is real, good, cares about me, and has a plan for me. I would years later tell a friend that someone would have to disprove these experiences to disprove Xianity to me. I thought such a feat would be impossible but as you saw earlier it was actually really easy. I just needed a wake up call.

Sadly the call would take about four more years. I went on my marry way but over time I wondered why I couldn’t so clearly see God in my life and that troubled me. I also looked more into atheist arguments, saw where they were coming from, but would assume, no, I would know that they were wrong because of my experiences that told me Jesus was guiding me. I also thought many atheists were smug and annoying because I was blind to Xians that were the same if not worse. Eventually I came to the point where I could even make atheist arguments myself to counter theist ones but I could from there make another counterargument to debunk the debunker. Like I said, about anything can be rationalized so I would continue to go with my experiences.

I’m not sure what exactly started the feeling in me that made me start to love the idea of throwing away Xianity but I think subconsciously my mind had been over the years rejecting the dogma that had been polluting it. One day I looked into myself and saw that these things had grown too big to be ignored any longer. It wasn’t a bad realization, though, it was fun and new. Even still prayers like “Oh God, please get me back on track” followed to no avail. Then one day at Borders I found a book (funny enough in the religion section) titled “Losing my religion” by William Lobdell. I’m not completely sure why, but I was compelled by this book and I felt that this man knew what I was going through and would offer great and interesting advice. At that point in time I was not ready to admit to myself that I was no longer an Xian, but I did know that there was a new love in me for books like that. I came back to Borders to read the book and I found that sure enough the man did know what I was going through. Lobdell too had come to God in a hard time of his life and then gotten back on track while giving God the glory. Lobdell too had experienced what Xians would call miracles, for instance when he prayed for a specific amount of money a friend ended up giving it to him. Lobdell also felt that his calling was to write for the religion beat in the paper but this would be the beginning of his de-conversion. There were so many great things in that book but some that stick out are that Lobdell points out that there are many people that would love to have faith but just can’t. That goes directly against what most Xians think about salvation because supposedly all one has to do is invite god into their life, right? Wrong. Some people just don’t have the capacity. In my mind this alone was a damning fact for Xianity. I suppose the predestination argument remains but who would follow a God that created a lot of people knowing that he would just end up damning them? That is what any decent person would cal a sadistic monster. Lobdell is an intelligent, open minded person that didn’t hate Xians or Xianity and reading his journey was extremely enlightening and encouraging. Xianity could be casted off. I still have saved in my phone a favorite quote from the book. Apparently priests were saying that those losing faith because of the priests that raped kids were committing “spiritual suicide”. To answer that statement Lobdell put into words why most of us are here at exchristian.net: “Spiritual suicide infers that people make a conscious decision to abandon their faith. Yet it isn’t simply a matter of will. Many people want to believe but just can’t. They may feel tortured that their faith has evaporated, but they can’t will it back into existence. If an autopsy could be done on their spiritual life, the cause of death wouldn’t be murder or suicide. It would be natural causes-the organic death of a belief system that collapsed under the weight of experience and reason.” Indeed, I think experience and reason growing inside of me was what caused my change in emotions which lead me to open up to the reality that my experiences were not miracles or God’s hand in my life. As a matter of fact around that time in my life no matter how much I wanted to think about an event as if it were God’s hand I could not control a rush that brought forth a rational explanation.

I remained a shy atheist for a while after that but over time I’ve found myself more and more fond of atheist literature, though being a poor student I can’t buy many books so thank you exchristian.net for giving me a free place to read up on very interesting debates, facts, and such that have greatly helped me to take the next step in my recovery from Xianity! I’ve found myself infinitely more happy and liberated without Xianity, I’ve made valuable self-discoveries that my Xian beliefs would have made me timid to accept, and every day the ridiculousness of that dogma I believed for so long is more and more apparent.

I would like to conclude by saying that I didn’t have a bad experience with the church or Xians, nor did a priest rape me, nor was I appalled by stories of the like. Many Xians say that we here were never Xians but that bad experiences or bad people turned us away. None of that was the case for me, and I was defiantly an Xian. If you asked any of my friends and some of my path youth ministers they would vouch for me and the youth ministers would be very, very distressed that I wrote this. I had the changed life, I had the zeal, but I also have an open and logical mind that eventually threw the yoke of dogma off and if anything I’m ashamed it took 19 years to do so.

My Atheism

2010-01-25T07:08:00.000-05:00

By Sean

Image via Wikipedia

A few old friends ask me why I'm an atheist. Anyone who knew me growing up remembers me as a faithful and religious teenager. What could have possibly happened to the kid who led prayer group every morning before school, organized Chrysalis weekends and professed to love Jesus Christ with all his heart, mind and soul? It was a slow processes, but I'd like to share it and what atheism means to me.

Let me set the stage: I have read the Bible cover to cover multiple times and studied some of the most popular modern Christian thinkers like Dobson, Campolo, Colson and many others. I was the 'go to' guy for Biblical information in high school and college. My faith limited or false: at the age of 15, I kneeled and prayed the Sinner's Prayer and asked Jesus Christ to forgive my sins and rule over my life. I spent the better part of a decade working on that relationship, praying daily, trying to be more Christ-like and coming closer to Christ. So atheism for me is not an uninformed choice driven by a lack of faith. I was not a half-hearted believer; I was all in.

Back when I was a professing Christian, I attended a Bible study with my parents and a few other friends. It was dedicated to some of the harder subjects in the bible. I remember one night's topic being about evolution and the 'universal monkey mind'. The premise of evolution is this; a scientist on an island washes a potato in the ocean, a monkey observes this behavior and copies it, then through the 'universal monkey mind' all monkeys are now able to wash their potatoes in the ocean before eating them. And that in a nutshell, was evolution, a crackpot idea to make man the center of creation instead of God. It was useless as a science and highly contested by everyone in the field.

However, I reasoned that there were people who believed this the same way I believed in Jesus. They must have reasons and if I could understand those reasons from their perspective, then I would have a way of countering their arguments and hopefully witnessing to them. One must understand an enemy before doing battle with them. Besides, I knew that my beliefs were correct, so they would stand up against any test.

I picked up a book on the subject; Richard Dawkins The Blind Watchmaker. This book was highly recommended as an easy introduction to the theory of evolution. My mission was to be able to think like an evolutionist while retaining my Christian mindset so I could convert the poor, deluded souls who'd been hoodwinked by this so-called theory.

For the rest of the story to make sense, I need to summarize what I learned: Let's say you have creature X1. It doesn't matter what X1 actually is; it can be a dog, a plant or an aardvarkosaurus. There are lots of variations among X1 individuals - some are tall, some a short, some are lighter, some are darker. The dark colored X1s fare better because they have superior camouflage. They don't do much better, just about 1% or so better. Over 1,000 generations, the vast majority of the population is dark and now we'll call them X2 (though some are still X1). X1 and X2 are essentially the same animal. X2 is not necessarily a new 'species'. But if we keep running time forward, we'll slowly get X3s with a longer snout, X4s with longer legs, and X5s with stinkier scent glands. Viewed as a continuum, each step is a pretty small change from the previous. Saying anyone of the them is a distinct species would be difficult. However, there are now enough differences between X1s and X5s that if two of them were to get together, they could no longer breed; their genes would be incompatible. We can't really say that a species is a particular animal with certain characteristics; a species is more of this continuum from early ancestor to later descendant with many changes in between. This is what Darwin predicted and it that conclusion that the entire field of genetics supports.

Wow. No one had ever explained it to me with such clarity. I can see how the 'universal monkey mind' became a caricature by those who would dismiss evolution out of hand. But now I was left with the fact that no one I had ever talked to among my Christian friends had any understanding of this definition of evolution. I'm kind of an armchair scientist, so I kept studying. I found out that all modern medicine is based on evolutionary principals. It does have everyday applications. It it testable, falsifiable and there has never been any evidence to the contrary and only evidence to support it in 150 years.

So why did people of faith hate evolution so much? As a Christian it was my duty to find out the truths of the world. Jesus is the way, the truth and the light. I've got to be more like Jesus.

Basically what I found was that the truly faithful people I looked up to simply would not accept evolution, despite evidence or admittedly not understanding its most basic precepts. People were willfully ignorant of evolution or they would learn only the things that put evolution in a poor light; fossils are from the devil to test our faith, Darwin recanted on his deathbed, Hitler used Darwin to create the Holocaust, Polonium rings or the salt content of the ocean disprove evolution. It didn't matter that these things were based on logical fallacies or blatently false; people wanted to believe evolution was evil, so no amount of convincing can make it otherwise. I began to understand how ideology worked.

So I'm kind of stuck at this point. I have a truth that contradicts my faith; Evolution is the way the world works but faith sayt to reject this truth to keep loving God. It really does come down to a choice of truth or faith. Faith means putting the blinders on; I have to ignore the fear, the lies the devil and the world are telling me and accept that God really does have an explanation that I'll fully understand once I get to heaven. Many people go the path of faith and choose to believe and overcome doubt. To the rationalist or the atheist this is all self-delusion. I reasoned that believing in heaven without proof is just as stupid as rejecting evolution because one's faith says so. There has to be proof.

Faith is believing despite the evidence before you. I began to realize that thinking this way is not helpful and certainly not moral. Let me say that evolution was not the only crisis of doubt; I could not plausibly continue to believe in many things once that thread became unraveled; how could a loving God give people 70 or 80 years to tell them they love him or be punished with eternity in hell? If there is one God, why does religion spark so much conflict? Why is there still evil in the world? Why do miracles only happen in ancient tales and not today? Why is there no historical proof that Jesus existed? Why does the Bible have so many contradictions? Why does it have rules for how to treat slaves but nowhere say slavery is bad?

The answer, for me, is that the Bible is a collection of stories of desert-nomads with no understanding of science and a morality built around fanatical worship of a deity that demands blood-sacrifice. Over the years, the stories have been changed and manipulated to suite the agenda of the day. This is true of all faiths. They demand you believe, live according to their rules and don't question them.

I couldn't pretend anymore. I knew it was all fake. No one had real answers for me. People wanted to believe what they wanted to believe. In church I found that reality was shut out because it conflicted with faith.

I found myself at this crossroads. My faith had been winding down for a while as I investigated the way the world worked. I'd studied quantum mechanics, biology, sociology and many other subjects. Everything pointed to a universe where God did not exist. I had tons of doubts and questions. I could either believe by faith, or follow the evidence.

I chose to follow the evidence.

This is important; I chose. I have turned my back on superstitious beliefs. I decided that I need proof to live my life, otherwise faith is another word for 'lying to myself'. There is no reason to believe something without tangible proof. To believe in something just because someone says so is to stop thinking. To believe just because you've had a positive emotional experience like salvation is probably a better reason, but personal experiences are not tangible proof. I've applied this rationalism and I think there are many things people believe in without questioning.

Atheism is not a belief. It is the absence of belief. I do not believe in God. For me, he does not exist because he cannot be proven. I will not live my life in service to a figment of the imagination. I will live a good and moral life because it's the right thing to do, not because of a fear of eternal hell-fire. I will live based on evidence; when the evidence changes and something new is discovered or proven to be wrong, I will change what I accept to be true and live accordingly.

Waking Up My Closed Mind

2010-01-24T09:56:00.000-05:00

By Andrea

Image by Mr.OutdoorGuy via Flickr

Growing up surrounded by only Christians is strange thing. My parents were Christians and they home-schooled me and my younger sister. Church was like a second home and all our friends were there. I knew a few other home-schooled kids that didn't go to my church, and they were Christians too.

I know my parents were only trying to do what they thought was best for me, but I was in a kind of bubble. Since I never talked to anyone with a different opinion, it was really difficult to deal with the teachings in the Bible sometimes. I was terrified of going to hell and really didn't like the teaching of the bible. I mean, hearing that God sent a flood to cover the entire earth and kill everyone except eight people is not very comforting.

After short periods of doubt I would put my questions aside. No one had an answer and I had to get along with my family and friends, so I just decided this God must be good after all. In high school my parents let me go to a public school. I was in an art school with all of these people that were very open-minded and that got me to think about things again. That really didn't change me though because my family would always tell me I needed to avoid the false teaching of that school. I was only fifteen so I ended up siding with my parents and saw it as my "mission from God" to help lead people of that school in the right direction. I didn't preach to them or anything, but I made sure I didn't act like "one of them."

A few years went by and I felt like I was getting incredibly unhappy. I felt a lot of anxiety and I really didn't like myself much, but I didn't know why. I was at the point where you give it all to this God and in the process you start losing your real personality. I knew that I had a talent for art but I gave all of that up because I thought God wanted me to be a missionary instead. I guess I was just making myself into a puppet for God, whatever He wanted, went. I didn't even care about having fun anymore. The burden of trying to do everything God wanted was sucking the life out of me. I thought nothing would pull me away from my God, but this year I snapped. The doubt about the Bible haunted me again, but I was still to afraid to admit it.

Shortly after that I got to know this guy I thought was really cool. He was not a Christian, but he was really nice. Though I liked him he was pretty much in the "sinner" category to me. I believed he was going to hell because he was an openly gay man and admitted that he thought Christianity was too uptight. I didn't know what to do, so I started to pray for him. I carried on in my nonsense. He was very sweet though, and it was hard to call him a sinner. One day I think it just hit me. I looked at him and I asked myself, "Why am I serving a God how would hurt this nice person?" All of the sudden it was like my love for him and for others I knew were not Christian took over and I knew this God had to be false.

I'm now almost twenty and I would never go back to the way I was living. I read the Bible again, this time with an open mind, and I saw all of the contradictions, evil and just plain stupidity it contains. I hate that I wasted some time as a teenager, but I'm glad I got out of it at an early age.

I'm agnostic now. I don't have all the answers, but I'm happy anyway. Being free of Christianity is enough for me.

Why I Am Not A Christian

2010-01-23T16:57:00.000-05:00

By Chas Warren

Image by Brian Hillegas via Flickr

This is going to be long and rambling, but not intentionally. The topic is clearly stated in the title, but in this introductory paragraph, permit me to amplify slightly. In this article, I intend to chart the route of my own non-theism. Call it descent or ascent, but know that I have felt like a mountaineer, struggling towards one peak, only to have another suddenly rise before me, beckoning me to climb again. But the path has never been straight. It has always been circuitous. That’s why this literary map will belong and rambling.

I didn’t possess a natural inclination to believe in God. My father decided not to convince me to believe in Santa Claus, and I don’t rue his decision. I still enjoyed Santa, but I understood that he was a pleasant fiction, like Bugs Bunny. It occurred to me by the time that I was in the fourth grade that God might also be a fictitious creation.

Of course, this was accompanied by apprehension and fear. My parents seemed to believe in God, in Jesus, in something called the Holy Spirit, in the resurrection, and in the scary hereafter. My mother taught me a wonderfully morbid little song that terrified me:

Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord my soul to keep;
If I should I die before I wake,
I pray the Lord my soul to take.

I didn’t tell anyone of my incipient atheism. The subject frightened me too badly.

Three digressions: No, I am not likening God to Santa Claus. No, I am not an atheist. Yes, I know that those are double negatives, but they express what I want succinctly, so I forgive myself.

Anyway, I was soon launched headlong into Christianity. I embraced Jesus Christ as my savior, fervently. This was caused by the divorce of my parents, and my mother’s subsequent refuge in Jesus. I don’t say that mockingly, and it isn’t in retrospect. When my parents divorced, my father suggested that my mother start attending church. She followed his advice. I was swept along, as were my siblings. I loved Jesus passionately from the ages of about 10 – 12.

Then a lot of things happened, which I will try to expand in the succeeding paragraphs, after another digression.

A lot of Christians, upon hearing of my lapsed devotion, automatically aver that I was not a Christian in the first place. I’m not interested in discussing that opinion. I was a “born again” Christian who had accepted Jesus as the Messiah and received the Holy Spirit. That’s not all that I’ll say about this, but it is all that I will say for now.

The church we attended was of the Pentecostal variety. I loved it, and participated enthusiastically. I spoke in tongues, and unabashedly bore my testimony to anyone who would listen. We went to church at least three times a week. I read the bible daily, prayed multiple times a day, and immersed myself entirely in Christian culture. I was a precocious and voracious reader, so I gobbled up Nicky Cruz, David Wilkerson, Hannah Hurnard, Salem Kirban, Hal Lindsey, Haralan Popov, Ernest Angley’s now almost-forgotten “Raptured” novel, and practically everything that Zondervan published. If the Left Behind books would have been published then, I would have read them. I listened to Jimmy Swaggart, Andrae Crouch & the Disciples, and everything else that I could find that was Christian music.

Then I read “The Modern Tongues Movement” by Robert Gromacki, which had been lent to me by a Baptist minister. He also lent me a Scofield Reference Bible, and I purchased a Cruden’s Concordance. I began to doubt the honesty of my own religious experience because of the Gromacki book. I looked around at members of my own congregation, and saw people who had willfully accepted a lie. They weren’t speaking in tongues, they were spouting gibberish. I had been spouting gibberish. They had brainwashed themselves in order to feel good. We had brainwashed ourselves.

Then I thought: If we can do this in our sophisticated 20th century, how do I know that Christ’s followers weren’t similarly deluded? Everything came crashing down.

I fought it for years. I kept praying, kept reading my bible. I started to search for evidence of something -- of anything -- miraculous in the world. I attended the faith healing meetings of Vic Coburn, and watched thousands of people in an auditorium believe what they wanted, while nothing miraculous happened on the stage. I spent months investigating a photograph that purported to show Jesus in the clouds that had an entirely untraceable provenance. It is probably still being distributed among the gullible.

I also read “Healing: A Doctor in Search of a Miracle,” by William Nolen, and left as disheartened as the surgeon who wrote it. I read “The Bermuda Triangle Mystery Solved” by Lawrence Kusche, and “Crash Go the Chariots,” by Clifford Wilson, and further cherished mysteries disappeared. People like to believe the implausible, I realized.

Whatever I investigated of the supernatural or the paranormal vanished like smoke when I looked too closely. I learned that purposeful stupidity was rampant. I listened to adults say things like, “Only a vain person would believe that we are alone in the immensity of the universe,” and watched other adults nod as if they had just heard wisdom instead of banality. I listened to adults say, “We only use 10% of our brain,” as if it were incontestable fact.

I read other books, many of which I regard as slightly sophomoric now, but they were seeds for thought then. I read “The Philosophy of Humanism” by Corliss Lamont, “On Human Nature” by Edward Wilson, “The Conquest of Happiness” by Bertrand Russell, “Beyond Freedom & Dignity” by B.F. Skinner, and “Asimov s Guide to the Bible.” I read Kant and Hume and Voltaire. Slowly, I moved from devout believer to militant atheist.

The atheism didn’t last. First, because, in the 9th grade, I acquired a Jewish girlfriend., and I realized I knew little of Judaism. I’ll write more about her soon. Second, because I started to read the existentialists, and encountered Søren Kierkegaard’s leap to faith. I realized that atheists and theists were not only claiming too much, but that what they were claiming was irrelevant. Christian belief is only and always an exercise of faith, not something to be decided by logic.

Let’s return to my Jewish girlfriend. Due to her, I decided I would become a lifestyle Jew. She gave me a Talmud for my birthday, a drastically abridged and annotated pocket version. Today, it would be something that one perused on an IPod. I became acquainted with the Talmudic scholar Rabbi Moshe ben Maimon and his “The Guide of the Perplexed,” likewise in abridged form. I read Herman Wouk’s “This is My God,” Howard’s Fast’s “The Jews: Story of a People,” Isaac Bashevis Singer’s “In My Father's Court,” and Chaim Potok’s “My Name Is Asher Lev.” I read Bernard Malamud and Philip Roth and Elie Weisel and Sholem Aleichem. I read “Commentary,” the international affairs Jewish magazine.

I was preparing myself to become a Jew.

My mother accidentally intervened, sabotaging my planned conversion. I’d invited my girlfriend – her name was Andrea -- over for dinner. During the course of the meal, my mother casually informed Andrea that she would burn in hell forever because her people had murdered Jesus. This isn’t like my mother. I was stunned, and so was Andrea. The relationship ended, and so did my flirtation with Judaism.

Years later, I attempted to become a lifestyle Mormon. I didn’t believe it, of course – the stuff about golden plates and lost tribes wouldn’t even make a good adventure novel – but I liked most of the Mormons I’d met, and I didn’t feel that it could do any harm. An LDS Bishop unintentionally dissuaded me this time, by refusing to anoint me into what they call the Melchizedek Priesthood, unless I first shaved. I decided that Jesus would have been unlikely to concern himself with the minutiae of shaving, so I bowed out.

There are other events that led to my unbeliever status, but I won’t go into them in any detail here. I met Roman Catholics priests who didn’t believe in God, but they liked being able to do good works from within a powerful institution. I started to read John Shelby Spong and other liberal Christian theologians. In other words, I became comfortable with my lack of faith.

At one point I joined the Unitarian Universalist Association, and I still admire them, but I began to discover how much I dislike labels. I’ve spent many fruitless hours explaining what Unitarian Universalists are and the distinctions between atheists and agnostics, and I don’t want to do it anymore.

The Mormons believe in the aforementioned golden plates. Roman Catholics believe in transubstantiation. Christians as a group believe in an invisible, omniscient, omnipresent superbeing who created everything. Scientologists believe in Xenu. I've known Hindus who prostrated themselves before statues of the elephant god Ganesha. Muslims – at least some of them – believe that deliberate martyrdom is a virtue.

I began to realize that the bad side of Christianity was identical to the bad side of any “ism.” The zeal that drives the bad Christians is identical to the zeal that drives bad Muslims and Hindus and Marxists and Stalinists and Maoists.

There are good Christians. I know many of them. There are good Muslims and Hindus and good Marxists. However, they all have one thing in common, in that they have divorced themselves from zealotry, and concentrated instead on what Christians call the Golden Rule, and what many humanists call the ethic of reciprocity.

Many religions have their own versions.

From Buddhism:

“Hurt not others in ways that you yourself would find hurtful." Udana-Varga 5:18

From Confucianism:

“Do not do to others what you do not want them to do to you.” Analects 15:23

From Hinduism:

“This is the sum of duty: do not do to others what would cause pain if done to you.” Mahabharata 5:1517

From Islam:

"None of you [truly] believes until he wishes for his brother what he wishes for himself.” Number 13 of Imam "Al-Nawawi's Forty Hadiths"

From Jainism:

“In happiness and suffering, in joy and grief, we should regard all creatures as we regard our own self.” Lord Mahavira, 24th Tirthankara

From Taoism:

“Regard your neighbor's gain as your own gain, and your neighbor's loss as your own loss.” T'ai Shang Kan Ying P'ien

So, in summary, I am not a Christian -- because I figured out that I don’t need to be in order to be a good person, that I can be a good person without the accompanying supernatural baggage, and without the risk of being infected by mind-rotting zeal.

Incidentally, I offer posthumous thanks to Bertrand Russell from whom I borrowed my title.

Poverty as a Testimony

2010-01-21T14:05:00.001-05:00

By Eveningmeadows

Awhile ago, I had a thought that I was quite surprised about. I had thought that my life was a "testimony" when I was a xtian. I was told that we were all created with a purpose, and whatever happened in our lives, it was god's will. Well, out of the blue, I started thinking about that statement. Was it a testimony for me to live in poverty?

I was thinking about how ridiculous that thought was! I was working for some middle-class women who had comfortable lives. They had nice houses, new cars, medical and dental insurance, vacations. This is where the stupid part comes in! I started working with these women after my ex had left me for the last time with two small children. I didn't receive child support, I drove a really old car that didn't give me much confidence on long trips. I lived in a third floor apartment in an area that these nice women wouldn't choose to live in, and didn't. My apartment didn't have any insulation to speak of, so my kids and I, during the winter, dressed in two pairs of socks, long johns under our pants, turtlenecks and sweaters. We couldn't do much but sit on the couch bundled up under blankets! I would boil water on the really cold days to try to warm the place up a bit! I was on food stamps, and on a welfare to work program because I didn't make enough money. On top of that, I was miserably depressed.

Somehow in the midst of all this, I honestly thought that they would be able to see god in my life, and what a testimony I was through this rather miserable life I had! I thought that I somehow would have some part in their possible conversion! Can you imagine! Why would women who have nice comfortable lives, with or without a belief in god, look at me in my depression and poverty and say to themselves, "Why look at how god is taking care of this person, I want to accept Jesus as my savior also!" Hallelujah and praise the lord, what a testimony my life was to these people! Talk about being brainwashed and delusional. I was thinking about that time in my life, and I had never thought about it quite that way before! It seems like the layers of brainwashing take a lot of time to peel away.

What they were probably thinking, and what I would be thinking now is, if this god is so loving and great, why is he allowing this woman to live like this? Their god had certainly blessed them more than mine had blessed me! And since I spent ALL my free time in the church, giving my money to the church, working myself to death in the church, shouldn't god have been bestowing more blessings upon me?

In the midst of all this, I actually believed that god was good, and was taking care of me! I was grateful for his blessings! Hadn't he given me this cheap place to live, so what if it was freezing in the winter! Didn't he allow my old car to keep running? Didn't I have enough money to pay my bills and that, of course, was because I was tithing! So I didn't dare stop. He gave me grace to continue on even though I was in a deep, horrible depression! Praise the lord! And all these blessing were because of my faith in this god and serving him obediently. And it wasn't my place to question god as to why my life was like this when other xtians lived rather comfortable lives. This was god's will, and I just had to accept it, he would bless me someday!

Now on that day I asked myself, why didn't god just heal me of my depression? He could have easily done that, heal me of the low self esteem which is a by product of depression, and clear my head of all the cobwebs. With all that gone, I would have had the ability to get a handle on my life and make some smart choices about my future. He could have pointed me in the right direction, and gave me a big push! But, nothing. Now in my opinion, that would have been a better testimony to god's goodness, than god's supposely blessings that weren't really there. And I honestly believed all that hook, line and sinker! My life as is was, was god's will, he was using me to glorify him, to show others of his goodness and his love! I feel so duped and lied to!

I had made choices in my life that led me to where I was. I was made to believe that I wasn't able to take care of myself, that I needed god because I was so needy. I think alot of my thinking was because of the depression, and because I was divorced. I was not thinking clearly, so all this made sense and fed into my guilt. I've read again and again on this site the stories of people struggling with depression who fell into religion also. We all believed different lies.

When this thought came to me, the hurt at being lied to, manipulated, crushed, and anger at all that just overwhelmed me. I can't believe that I excepted all that as truth! I can't believe that it took so many years to see how damaging that religious teaching was. I was never to ask why god didn't heal me, why my life, as it was, was god's will. Why was I supposed to believe that god had blessed me, when it was obvious when compared to others, it wasn't. I believe deep inside, I had grave doubts about his blessings on my life, but didn't dare voice them, because I was afraid of god's wrath if I did!

These questions and others finally did the belief in a loving and just god in. Keep the poor slobs believing in all this garbage so they will continue to work for god's blessing in their miserable lives. Working for the church, that is.

Another viewpoint of Unbelief

2010-01-20T19:40:00.000-05:00

by Swabby

The Hindu god Ganesha by wallyg via Flickr

I deconverted from Christianity over three decades ago. I was raised in the United Methodist tradition by a conventionally conservative Nebraska family. I think the roots of my disbelief may have been planted as early as the time I discovered the non-existence of Santa Claus.

I took a tangential interest in Sunday school during the 1960s when I was looking for mainstream religious validation of my peace movement alignment against the war in Southeast Asia. But beyond that, I didn't put a lot of faith in the Bible-God or Christ.

I officially washed my hands of Methodism after I left home to move to San Francisco in 1973. I love ritual and pageantry, so I got swept up into the surface practice of the New Age movement. I didn't actually believe any of the stuff, aside from a short journey into astrology, numerology and psychic healing. I tried my hands at those things and figured they were all bogus as well. I understood all of these spiritual arts in an abstract way and appreciated them as cultural artifacts and nothing more.

In my mind, I had an opinion that most folks didn't actually believe in the big three Abrahamic religions nor the showbiz of New Age. All of it just a social sham that folks just pretended to believe so they wouldn't offend their parents and grandparents or to have a base of operations for weddings and funerals.

To me, affiliating with a religion or spiritual path was on a similar scale as affiliating with a political party, becoming a fan of a baseball team or immigrating to another nation. Big things, but still just superficial labels in the overall scheme of life. The main idea being that I still understood all of the religions, cults, sports fan clubs, etc. as abstract concepts. Albeit abstract concepts that people get overly attached to; the way San Francisco Giants fans are overly fond of "their" team and opposed to the infidels, the L.A. Dodgers.

I did understand that it was wise to keep my skepticism to myself because I knew that people are very attached to their self-labels as Giants fans, Astrologers, Muslims, Jews, Christians as Americans routinely understand these sorts of affiliations and attachments to opinions. Still, I didn't really understand the depth of belief that the majority of people have regarding their beliefs. I was really out of touch in that way.

Fast-forward to 2004.

I took the opportunity to visit India with one of my fellow Buddhists. My friend and I are skeptical Buddhists who practice the mental calisthenics and disciplines as ways to maintain focus. We also enjoy being armchair anthropologists. Right away, I fell in love with India and its incredible variety of people and cultural practices.

I had/have a working knowledge of the basics of the main branches of Hindu religions so I was eager to partake of checking out temples, shrines, etc. This was easy because our host is a devout follower of Ganesha (the peaceful, auspicious elephant headed god). I've enjoyed reading much of the Hindu mythology as entertainment and as morality tales. Hence, Hinduism was just another abstract concept to me. Even less real to me because I was visiting a vexing wonderland far away on the other side of the planet.

One day, my Buddhist friend, our host and I took a day-trip to a community several miles north of Mumbai. We had a wonderful time at the beach, schmoozing with the locals and sightseeing. We decided to cap the evening with a visit to a brand-new temple dedicated to Ganesha. The temple was spectacular and looked like something straight out of Disneyland. I was captivated by the artistry of the statuary of hundreds of Hindu gods. In the main shrine was a stunning statue depiction of Ganesha. The image was almost hypnotic in its beauty and decoration. We eventually started a circular walk around the image. About half-way through the circle, a middle-aged male devotee approached me in an extremely hostile manner. His face was literally right in front of mine as he screamed angrily in Hindi. He was raising his fists to pound me when my host quickly intervened. The devotee backed away after my host explained something to him, also in Hindi. Immediately, my host turned to me and told me to bring my hands forward in a prayer-like pose and to hold them together the entire time we are inside the shrine.

Later, my host explained that in my ignorance my manner of holding my hands behind my back was interpreted as an extreme insult to the Lord Ganesha. My host had told the devotee that I was just a stupid American who was ignorant about etiquette inside of a holy shrine. It was brought forward to me at that time, just how sincerely the devotee was in his faith and belief in Ganesha.

I gave a lot of thought to that incident afterwards and also during the flight back to the USA. I was trying to piece together how people could believe that such a preposterous, peculiar, bizarre looking god, Ganesha, was a real being to be worshiped and sincerely adored. It was during that mental puzzlement and brainstorming that I finally understood that most people who are attached to the abstract concepts of religion, cultism, sports-fannery, etc., are very serious believers of these ideas.

As a reminder of the fact that people take their concepts too seriously and as a memento of my visit to India, my host sent me a wall-mountable likeness of Ganesha. I have him hanging in my computer room. BTW. Ganesha is considered to be the god of good fortune. Visitors to my den understand that he is my tongue-in-cheek good luck charm. Whenever I read or hear about the horrendous, outrageous events that are triggered by religious followers, I remember that those followers are deadly serious in their beliefs. I sometimes afterwards, glance at the Ganesha image and remember my vivid encounter with absurd belief systems.

Tearing Away From Religion

2010-01-19T08:13:00.002-05:00

By VisibleAtheist

During graduate school I conducted a qualitative research study on the deconversion experience for those in college. I optimistically thought that the research would impact the lives of other questioning or deconverted students by educating administrators and raising awareness. My own deconversion experience was a profound part of my college experience, although it was so deeply personal it appeared separate from college life.

When I was younger, I had a strong desire to understand God and to be with God. I prayed often and fixated on what would put me in God’s favor. I worried often about the state of my loved one’s souls because they were not nearly as dedicated to religion as I was. This was the main crux of my identity when I was growing up, even past the first year of college and into the third year of college. I could not imagine anything else. My visions of heaven and hell, not to mention the change that God could have over my life, were both too powerful for me to walk away from.

I was also scared about death. What happens after we die and what happens to our loved ones if there is just nothing? I was obsessed with what heaven would look like and what it would be like if certain people did not make it into heaven with me. I thought it would be unfair punishment to me if I just had to live on without the people, like my mother, who were not “good Christians.” During the process of my deconversion I wrestled with the idea of no afterlife, and after a short while, I let it go and have never been uncomfortable about it again.

I started questioning the existence of God while I was in my second year of college. The more I questioned, the more religious I became. The more I questioned, the more I did not want to fall out of God’s grace. The more I questioned, the more I prayed and tried to return to Christianity; I felt very much like I was being tested. When I first began to have these thoughts, I tried to push them down. Tried to make them go away. I did not want to suffer through hell or to anger God. I thought that it would be a lot easier on myself just to pretend that they were not happening at all.

I stopped trying to push away the doubt and began finding people with whom to discuss my thoughts. Some people entertained my questions and some people pushed them away. I never discussed my thoughts with anyone I knew to be religious. By this time, I was looking more for a reason not to believe and to have something else to cling to, than for a reason to return to Christianity.

I am now an Atheist. I have no belief in anything supernatural and firmly believe that if there is something supernatural out there, I do not need to know about it. Without the threat of hell or the promise of heaven I do not feel any great pressure to figure this out. Now my non-belief is central to who I am, and I am affected when people do not consider or respect this dimension of my identity. I respect the role that religion plays for many people and expect that my non-belief should be considered equally, a perspective that has become important in my work with students. My experience and my research has been key in motivating me to create a safe place for different perspectives, a safe place that redefines inclusiveness to include the non-theistic.

A very short trip that took many years

2010-01-19T07:13:00.000-05:00

By Ryan

Image by DennisSylvesterHurd via Flickr

It was not a long trip from agnostic to atheist, but it took years. My story is a bit different than many of your testimonials, but I wanted to post this in solidarity and respect for the bravery that so many of you have shown. I can’t imagine what personal strength it must have taken to leave a faith that was given to you from childhood, and especially to feel yourself drift from a spouse whose traditional faith remains. I have read this story several times over on these pages, and it is an impressive display of humanity. And in many cases heartbreaking, when a marriage or family is pulled apart.

I’ve considered myself agnostic for many years. I’m in my mid-thirties, and I’ve not been a part of any church since I was a child. Even then, we were not a religious family. We attended Lutheran, and then later Methodist churches, but only as a social custom. My parents, who no longer attend church, consider themselves Christians only in a cultural sense. Nowhere in my childhood did I suffer a literal teaching of scripture. My wife, also raised as a Lutheran, is firmly agnostic and happily so.

So why did it take so long for me to self-describe as an atheist? It’s not that much of a change, especially from the point of view of the faithful. But even for me, with a fairly non-religious upbringing, it was not an easy transition. This is why I am so impressed with you brave and independent minds who have pulled yourself from very religious backgrounds into a clear-headed and free state. If calling myself an atheist was a difficult move for me, it must have been earth-shattering for some of you to depart from life-long Christianity.

I can tell you that I spent a great many years not thinking about religion much at all. It was not for me, so why even consider it? I don’t like seafood either, but I certainly don’t spend much time thinking about it. I suppose this is where a lot of people are. The recent Pew poll on American religious views shows atheists at 1.6%, and a larger class of the “unaffiliated” at 16.1%. I used to be one of those 16%. There are many more atheists among them, but for whatever reason they do not (yet) consider themselves atheists.

What finally brought me to the 1.6%? I was tired of not having an opinion. Or admitting it, at least. I don’t think you can decide what to believe as a course of action. So, it was not my understanding that changed, but rather my honesty about it. When my daughters get old enough to ask me what I believe about the supernatural, I want to have a positive answer. Not the rhetorical equivalent of a shoulder shrug. If they choose to believe differently, I will love and admire them all the same. I may even drive them to church if they decide to go! (But good luck getting me inside unless it’s their wedding.)

That’s all I wanted to say. I have enjoyed your stories so much. You are a brave lot.

Motorcyclists and Molotov Cocktails

2010-01-14T04:39:00.001-05:00

Kuala Lumpur -- Image by Christopher Chan via Flickr

By Crissy

Last week three churches were bombed in my city of Kuala Lumpur. It was a confirmation of issues that had been brewing in my head for the past few months.

I am 21, and I've been through the whole assembly line. Sunday School, youth groups, you name it, I've done it. It was only for the past few years however that the euphoria and eagerness died down. I was an emotional teenager, and as I grew more level headed as an adult, I assumed that my 'relationship with Christ' was just plateauing as a result of that. As I gained friends and a boyfriend, I found that I liked who I was and I didn't need affirmation from this God who 'loved me'. I did my best to fan the flames again. I took up a one year Bible reading challenge where I bored myself every night with chapter after chapter. I went to a remote Bible camp to seek peace and understanding. I served more fervently than ever at church. I confessed sins and asked for God to fill me with his Spirit.

Nothing happened. And every week, the church service just seemed more distant and repetitive and dismal. The whole religion seemed like one long, tedious guilt trip. Instead of love and freedom, there was weekly guilty self-flagellation at church.

One of my university lecturers -- Mr. Harris -- and a beloved film director -- Yasmin Ahmad -- passed away within a month of each other. They were both Muslims. I couldn't reconcile how a loving God could send two such beautiful people to hell just because they called their god by a different name.

I wanted more than anything to love people for who they are instead of constantly worrying about how to convert them. I wanted to love my boyfriend whole heartedly and for us to enjoy a healthy, well-rounded relationship without feeling guilty about it.

And then, I stumbled upon this site. I realized that Christianity was not the only way to live my life. There was nothing wrong or sinful about me at all. The sky never seemed so blue as on that day.

Meanwhile, my country is in turmoil because the Muslims are angry with Christians over our usage of the word Allah. You see, some Christians in my country have Malay as their mother tongue. And consequently, the Malay Bibles have the word 'God' or 'Father' translated as Allah.

The Malay Muslims maintain that 'Allah' is exclusively for Muslim use. Today in protest, three churches in my neighbourhood have been torched with Molotov Cocktails. I mourn as people fight over semantics and terms derived from old, outdated books. Political motives are carried out under the cover of religious sentiments. I just feel like the world would be a better place without religion. If only we could just love each other for the people we are instead of hating each other for the banner we carry.

Rope a dope

2010-01-13T15:17:00.000-05:00

Image by wonderbjerg via Flickr

By Scott

I have been an ex-christian for over 10 years. I was "recruited" into christianity in 1992 by sheer stupidity. I was young and much like most high-school graduates, didn't know what I wanted to do with my life. I had already had an interesting summer and through a friend, I had heard about this girl who happened to be one of his exes. Strangely enough, he even recommended that I date her! Anyway, skipping ahead to the meat of the story, I got to know this girl's mother first..... literally. It didn't take her long to profess her faith to me and through the telephone, she could sense that I wasn't a willing participant in that part of the conversation. Evidently, something sparked in this woman and she urged me to run right down to where her daughter was working and pick her up and so on.... This was the beginning of what I like to refer to as the "rope-a-dope."

For the two years that followed that fateful night, I was systematically asked to give up or change one thing after another about myself in order to become more of an ideal mate for this girl. These things were asked by both the girl and her mother. One of those things was the requirement of regular church attendance. But not just any church, THEIR church, a moderate presbyterian church held in a converted (no pun intended) apple barn. Kitchy if nothing else. The girl's parents were married in that church and it was made abundantly clear that the girl would be married in that church as well.

Sad enough to be able to say, I met a slew of good, albeit misguided people through that church. At first, the people seemed genuine and the "lessons" from the pastor seemed simple enough to understand. Each sermon was more or less a "be good to one another" reminder with a bunch of god-garnish. We had to sing a bunch of songs that basically sounded like the brown-nosiest things I've ever heard. When I looked around during the "hootenanny", there were people with their eyes closed and their hands lifted up to the ceiling as though someone was robbing them. I thought this behavior was strange and I tried my best to overlook it, but had anyone seen me at that time, it would have been hard to deny the look of sheer bewilderment on my face. Because I was learning, I figured this was bringing me closer to this girl, so it was just something I'd have to learn to deal with...

In 1995, I finally wed the girl. In the same apple barn kitchy church her parents married in. It was everything her mother could have asked for. (Notice I didn't say that I could have asked for.) I had been immersed in christian doctrine for the better part of 2 years and had since been baptized and on a number of child retreats to help the youth pastor. (Incidentally, I always thought it was interesting that I was asked to help with these kids as my foul mouth and chewing tobacco habit had not curbed significantly in accordance with the girl's mother.) According to this girl's mother, I need not worry myself with things such as individual thought, professional ambition or personal enrichment outside of christianity. As a new christian, I was to concentrate solely on becoming a good christian - i.e. a non-drinker, non-tobacco user and a non-"cusser". This included the severance of all my pre-christian walk relationships from my life, to include my childhood friend who had always aimed to keep me out of trouble. Why? Because he wasn't a "bride of Christ". How this happened, I don't remember and I'm not sure I'd want to, but I complied. I said goodbye to almost everyone I knew prior to my walk with the lord. Everybody, that is, but my very successful father who made about $400,000 a year and was in the twilight of his career. Strangely enough, that was the only "secular" relationship that I was encouraged to maintain. Of course, that's just pure coincidence, I'm sure...

As my "walk with the lord" got longer, so did my questions get deeper, whose answers required more than a simple dismissive blurb about god. I wanted to know why if he was our creator did he create an entire species of people in his own image for the sole purpose of worshiping him? Pastor after pastor fell at the asking of questions just like that one. No one had an answer and they knew I was beyond simple appeasement - I wanted a concrete answer. As this was happening, my professional ambition as well as my marriage was falling apart. One by one, the "good" people I met throughout my tenure at this apple church started pulling the rugs of prayer right out from under me. It wasn't long before I got tired of hearing how "god must have another plan for you" and "god shuts one door and opens another". At that point, if god would have just opened a window, I would have happily hurled myself out of it. These same sentiments turned from fair-weathered to outright betrayal when the girl I sought so many years before up and decided that she didn't want to be married any more. The credit cards (all in my name) were maxed and there was no more fun to be had. With some encouragement (and funding) from her mother, the girl I sought found one shark of an attorney who left me financially responsible for the entire marriage. Evidently it was not clear in court why exactly I needed $3000 in Mary Kay make up, but I looked like a good guy to make responsible for that. Feeling dejected from the dismissal from my own apartment, I called on some of my good christian friends to help me sort through my emotions and guess what - every single one of them had "pledged allegiance" to this girl and refused to speak to me.

I know that I have not cited any biblical contradictions as to why I might have chosen to become an ex-christian, but I feel that in order to understand an organization, one need look no further than it's members. Christianity as an organization is nothing more than a guild of hypocrites. A body of people comprised mainly of junkies, alcoholics and others with severe personality disorders who have banded together because they all share the common delusion that their imaginary friend loves them and favors them over the rest of the free-thinking world. There are those of us who don't need the fear of an angry being punishing us for all eternity to do the right things by ourselves and amongst one another. We don't need a "God" to be good people. We don't need a book of exaggerations and misinterpretations to tell us how to live a life worth honoring and to decipher right from wrong - at least not a book as self contradictory as the bible.

I am a proud ex-christian who is glad to have made it to the other side. My children are all non-christian and my spouse is non-christian. As far as I am aware, we all intend to stay that way. Christianity is the opiate for the masses of the weak and defective.

Fray of Dysfunction

2010-01-12T02:50:00.000-05:00

by Ouchimoo

Image by Whewes via Flickr

I've been following the stories on this site for a long time now and I'm finally getting around to writing my own. I can't say that it took me courage to hunker down to write this because I am actually quite loud and proud about my atheism. Apparently that makes me a fundy AND militant. And depressed, and sour, and mean, and miserable, and wasting my life away, and meaningless, and etc. Funny really, considering that the only reason why any of those were applicable at any time were because my family and communities put a great deal of effort into subjugating those effects. Well, despite the nasty effects that has happened it didn't seem to bother me so much because I was already used to being an outcast.

Well five years ago, that changed. I moved away, got married to a delightful agnostic and joined a bunch of great clubs full of free thinkers. I also discovered in my new residence, that people my age are usually very accepting of my religious point of view, or lack there-of with no issues despite their differing views. We coexist, there's no reason for me to be 'militant'. However! Lately, I have been dealing with my little brother who is still suffering from the effects of living in the little hole that is full of the very same people who brought you Michelle Bachman from Minnesota and hate science teachers who teach biology. Nice huh.

Perhaps I should start at the beginning.

I have four memories that are very vivid considering that I made them when I was so very young. I remember climbing up a mountain with my grandparents, my great aunt, my aunt and my mom. I actually recall details more clearly than my mother about the trip. I found a huge snail that I wanted to keep as a pet. We kept it in a Kleenex box. I complained that it would get out and the next morning it was gone. I also discovered that cacti aren't limited to just deserts, and that you shouldn't try and pick them up. Ouch! But understand that I was four. Another memory, I took my Bigwheel down the stairs because I thought it would be fun. Turns out, it wasn't.

Too far? Maybe this one will help. This next memory I have is very, very vague and I can't help but wonder if that was maybe because it was an even earlier memory. This one again takes place with my grandparents and my great aunt, and they were discussing something with my mother in a very happy chit chat sort of way. I was very distressed, and my mom was doing the classic, pull the whiny kid off and set them off to the side while ignoring them. Whereas I went under the table and crawled right back up again. I remember orange. Eighties motif type orange. I also remember the details on why I was upset. Over the loudspeaker or was it a radio? A deep, male voice was telling a story about how some guy was getting nails driven into his hands and that we should be happy for him.

Anyone else think that the crucifixion story might be just a tad too traumatic for children? Anyone? Anyone? Yeah.

My last memory that I'm going to share, happened when I was older, somewhere between five and six. My mother and I were lying on the bed and she turned to me and asked, “Brandie, do you believe in Jesus?” I remember looking at her and thinking very specifically, “Who!??” So deflecting my lack of knowledge I instead asked, “Do you?” She replied “Yeah, I guess.” Then I told her I did too, and she seemed very content with my answer.

It seems like a strange memory to keep, but I retained it because it's very important in my Christian upbringing. You see, when you look to your child for guidance, that makes a huge impact for the ever-so-wanting-to-please-mommy mindset. From that moment on I became the child that would sing so loud at church that old ladies would rush up to my mom after the service to congratulate her on her wonderful parental skills. It also put her warmly into the center of attention at church, even though she never volunteered -- even if it was mandatory.

But I couldn't just be the best singer, I had to follow everything the church and the bible told me to. I listened intently to the bible lessons at bible study. Although I remember specifically frowning down at the story of the Tower of Babel. So that meant that God doesn't want people to work together? People working together makes the world a better place, though! Wouldn't that mean that God is either stupid or doesn't want humanity to improve? That story stuck out so sorely even at my young age.

Despite that, I did other things to make me the perfect little Christian daughter. I would pray every time I said a naughty word or had a naughty thought. My dad actually thought it was a big joke. I was always confused when I would start praying and he would laugh at me! At times I think he even told me words were swear words even when they weren't just to spark a response. In honesty, I have to thank him A LOT for me pulling away from the Christian mindset. After all, as a young child I asked lots of questions like most children do. He typically gave me very stupid answers that I knew were just silly. This provoked me to not take everything that I heard lightly and to think out things for myself.

Another thing I enjoyed doing with my dad was to watch 60 Minutes on CBS every Sunday. Hehe, for a while I thought serial killers were people who put poison in cereal boxes. I'll get to more of that later. The show, not the cereal boxes.

Fast forward a few years to the point where I was slowly growing into my adult brain.

Things were beginning to be perceived differently. Despite how much everyone professed their strong belief and commitment, it seemed obvious that nobody really took it seriously -- at least nowhere as serious as I was taking it. Then there was the blatant hypocritical crowd. Those who do the meanest things, or drink and gamble their nights away while ignoring their families' needs (my mom). Those who were having sex with other people behind their spouses back (mom again). Then Sunday would come along and there they were, sitting right in the front row.

Speaking of sex, I have another thing I must thank my dad about. See, he raised me up to be a tom girl. When you don't subjugate yourself to the usual gender stereotypes, glaring contradictions stick out like sore thumbs. For example, young men were encouraged to have sex, lots! Whereas young women were instantly labeled as sluts if they so much as even humored the idea of sex or came across as too pretty. I also didn't like the fact that nudie pictures of women were all around, and yet women were the filthy, vile ones while the men were just being men. Silly men! Oh and absolutely grating was how my favorite cartoons had these powerful, macho male characters as the heroes. While the leading female characters were just there so that the awesome characters had someone to rescue every episode. All of this of course easily wrapped around the rolls pushed forward by the church. Women were hapless and weak who could never amount to anything in life except for total devotion to their husbands!

Speaking of husbands, enter my mother's second marriage: the wife beater. Hate is not normally something I toss around lightly when it comes to other human beings. But I hate wife beaters! Now this was the point where things started to get really interesting. See the church was continuously teaching how to be submissive and devotional to god and Jesus. It was drilled into every ones head to LOVE and FEAR god. Well, newly acquired personal experience via the wife beater, I learned that that- is- impossible! You do not love something you fear, you hate what you fear. To avoid what I feared, I spent the moment that I got home, til the time I had to go to school the next morning hiding in my bedroom. I had one thing to keep me company and that was the TV that my dad gave me. Going back to happier moments when I wasn't at my dad's, I looked for shows that were very similar to the journalistic style of 60 Minutes. What I found, was The Learning Channel (back when it was still good!) The Discovery Channel, and The History Channel. Then I'd get dragged back to church every Sunday and listen to the drivel of worthless talk, we're all sinners, and just down right stupid things the people believed in.

It didn't take long for my ultimate realization. Most people don't have a eureka moment. I did. It wasn't an “Eureka! There is no god” moment either. Instead it was, “Hey, I never actually believed any of this crap! Why do I go through the motions as if I do?” The reasoning was, I did it to make my mother proud. Now that I was old enough to recognize her narcissistic behavior, her constant bouts of drinking and leaving me behind to take care of my five year old brother I didn't have time to waste with stupid rubbish like that.

Now that doesn't mean I didn't suffer. Because I had long instilled myself with ingraining paranoia into my imagination. At this point I had a persona of an evil conscious and a good conscious. I was constantly being told that we all have an evil side who wants to do evil things, so we have to fight and take position with our good side, that I had actually manifested two voices inside my head. Very classic cartoony style shoulder mascots even. I knew it was stupid, but at this point I had learned that the human brain isn't something to trifle with. (Meanwhile research has determined that large parts of the brain go into total shutdown during the last transition of rewiring for the adult brain, FUN TIMES! My brain was so out of wack at the time that I can attest to that!) But the biggest thing I had to fight, was the paranoia sky daddy constantly watching me. So very George Orwellian. (If you haven't read the book "1984," I recommend it.) Even after I knew that the paranoia was entirely in my own mind, it was very difficult to shake. It took at least a year if not longer. General habits took even longer to fade away.

Now I normally don't think back on my history anymore. It's over with, done, all but forgotten and the biggest issues of my past have healed up nicely with the help of my beloved and patient husband. The reason why I'm writing this story now is because I have been re-engaged in my outrage over my history as I get phone calls from my little brother on a nightly basis. He's got the same issues that I dealt with growing up, but he likes to entice them *grumbles) and then he expects me to kiss his boo boos better when it gets thrown back into his face. That's frustrating by itself but what's more frustrating is to still see the damage that religion continues to invoke on people. Even though I'm out of it, I still end up getting needlessly sucked back in again. Especially when it comes to someone else trying to leave the fray of dysfunction.

It's a Relationship, Not a Religion

2010-01-09T18:14:00.000-05:00

by Bret P

I was raised in a fundamentalist Christian environment starting out at a very strict Baptist church and moving on to a Bible Church (basically the same with boring music). We were taught to disregard the word religion, because we had a relationship with Jesus Christ, unlike those other denominations.

The Catholics were a religion because of their sacrament and rituals. The Lutherans were a religion because they believed in baby baptism and good works. We true Bible believing Christians were not a religion, because of our true relationship with Jesus Christ.

Let's suspend our knowledge of the actual definition of religion as defined by the dictionary for a moment (a belief in and worship of a superhuman power, a system of faith and worship). Let's forget the fact that we had communion ceremonies, worship services, relied heavily on a holy book, and had a belief in a deity without evidence (because the proof is in the Bible, isn't it?).

We had a reason to feel superior to those false Christians who didn't subscribe to our way of faith. Those other people were still going to hell, because they didn't believe the literal Bible (or at least that was the assumption). We were also superior and saved, because (again) we had a true relationship with Jesus Christ.

This scared me out of wits for my neighborhood friends who were of other religions and denominations, or weren't religious at all. The pressure of witnessing, and saving souls was placed upon our shoulders, and if our friends didn't convert, we had to drop them as rejects of our one true faith. I wasn't particularly comfortable proselytizing, mainly because I was embarrassed about it, and the fact that I didn't really feel close to Jesus anyway (so elusive was his presence).

In my later teen years, my family started attending what I would consider a more mainstream, feel-good kind of Evangelical community church. The philosophy was more about letting the people come to us. Kind of refreshing. Very Y2K.

During this time I was drawn into a belief, that we don't worry about the Old Testament anymore, because Jesus took care of all that when he died. We have a personal relationship with him (again, not religion), his Holy Spirit guides us, and he helps us spread this love to others.

Much nicer isn't it? Not beating others over the head with it. More talk about love, and less about the consequence of eternal damnation (that was still there mind you, just not the focus of the message).

I believe that this seems to reflect the sentiment of more mainstream churches in many denominations today; "Loving God, Loving People" seems to be a pretty common motto. This softer approach certainly would encourage more converts, and comfort more souls. There's just one problem; the idea of original sin still pervades the ideology.

According to this more loving message, God created us and loves us. We screwed up from the start though, so God sent his son Jesus to die for us. All we have to do is accept him, and we'll be comforted and bask in this wonderful relationship that connects us to God.

What's the alternative? Since we're born rotten and sinful (one would think God would have seen this coming) , we will go to hell if we don't accept Jesus. Hell is eternal separation from God, who created us, has unconditional love for us, and wants to have a relationship with us.

How can anyone really have any self-esteem with a relationship like this? It's the same as having an abusive spouse who incessantly tells you that you're a rotten person. You start believing it after awhile (even if it isn't true), and then they tell you that you're nothing without them, and only through them can you care, love, and effectively connect with other people. If you reject them, don't do exactly what they say, or divorce them, they threaten to take everything away from you.

Never mind that Jesus isn't really the bright shining example of humanity that he's made out to be (read the New Testament for yourself, and you'll see this). Never mind that if the entire population followed his or St. Paul's example, we wouldn't exist as a species anymore. Never mind that Jesus never really claimed to abolish the law of the Old Testament (his words state the opposite in fact), and that he wasn't interested in saving anyone but the Jews.

How can anyone with a shred of self respect, engage in a relationship with someone who tells you you're no good, that he loves you in spite of this, will make you do good things, but if you reject him, you won't be able to do good, and you'll be damned to spend eternity without him (in flaming torture no less)?

We see people in abusive relationships all the time. That doesn't make them healthy or desirable. I rejected this relationship, just like I would reject any personal relationship of the same nature.

A lot of people claim that Jesus brings them a sense of love and peace. Unfortunately it's a sense of love and peace, grounded in a "realization" that you're no good to begin with. Even if one does good things through this relationship, it numbs one to their own goodness, and that certainly doesn't seem healthy to me.

Even if I did believe in some kind of deity (which I don't), I wouldn't be able to subscribe to this ideology, because it's so masochistic. I don't need another reason to beat myself up, and I think it's safe to say that nobody else does either.

It comes down to the importance of self-esteem and really, loving yourself. Once you love and feel good about yourself, you will naturally be able to love others. It doesn't take Jesus to make things all better. Now go out there and love somebody today!

If my parents had been humanists...

2010-01-06T04:46:00.000-05:00

by G Adams

Image by Greencolander via Flickr

I can finally call myself a humanist. I spent a good decade or so in church and attended every service under the sun. I have lead youth services, performed in Christmas plays and been part of many Bible studies.

My now estranged mother was once an evangelist missionary in pentecostal churches. We never really got along. The only real reason why I did about 90% of the things that I have done was to get her out of my face. I didn't want to hear all that hell and damnation bullshit.

I guess what got me involved in Christianity was my parents divorce. I wanted so desperately for God to put them back together. My father's mother was a church mother and my father was a very talented church drummer. He was also had schizophrenia and would terrorize myself, mother and younger brother on several occasions, but put on the good church face and act like the perfect father. I look back on it now and see that if he weren't believing in delusions of Jesus, I honestly believe that he wouldn't have so been crazy and probably wouldn't have been physically, emotionally and mentally abusive to his family.

Fast forward about five years later. My mother was renting from a church family that she had known for at least twenty years. After being abused and mistreated from the Sims first family, that bitch ass Pastor Sims decided to put out our family since we didn't attend his church anymore. We ended up staying with my mixed Native-American grandmother who held Wiccan-like views and got into constant arguments about our different religious world views. Eventually we let everybody believe what they wanted to believe and left it at that.

Now fast forward another five years later, my mother eventually saved up enough money and bought her own house. We had started going to a very charismatic old-world-style church. The people seemed pretty nice. But all that pretty couldn't hide the ugly truth. They had a way of tapping into your most deep-seated insecurities and exploited your spiritual openness on the altar in front of everybody. I hated that most of all. The first family was talented, but evil. I hated seeing these awful people three times a week. I always prayed that they would die. The first lady of that church did pass on due to cancer of the lymph nodes in November of 2008. She did more harm than good in my opinion, so according to the Bible, she would be experiencing weeping and gnashing of teeth for harming the least of these.

After about five years of emotional and spiritual abuse, my mother and siblings stopped going. I would still be dropped off because of my church duties and obligations. I knew something was up. Eventually we stopped going. I got all kinds of compliments from friends saying that I looked healthier and happier. I felt like I took off an elephant of of my shoulders. I was soo happy to feel a sense of freedom. I think this is were my transition started to take place. I still watched TV church. Still read the Bible everyday.

Then my life took a dramatic change about three years later. I had lived on campus for about five years and could no longer afford the expensive extra of campus living, so I had moved backed in with my mother over the summer. The game plan was to get a job, try to get a car, and then move out of mom's place. We didn't get along. She would burst into my room and yell at me for the most random things. I stayed in my room most days and just looked for a job. And I kept my room vacuumed and neat everyday. No one could argue with that.

One day she really spazzed out on me. About what, I still don't know. I knew something was wrong. I called and made an appointment with a counselor. Since she didn't want to seek help, I wanted help so I could learn what the hell was going on. Talking to the counselor I felt that I was no longer crazy. I think my mother probably had BPD. Explains a lot when I looked up her symptoms in the DSM IV.

During one of her emotionally terrorizing spazzing sessions, she basically told me to get out of her house. I called my boyfriend and told him that I would take him up on his offer and move in with him.

I told her I was moving out. I got back this haughty Christian response like "What are you guys going to move your things in, a cab? " No," I replied, "A moving fan," and I continued to pack up my room. She then proceeded to tell him that my boyfriend would get me "pregnant and lock me in a closet." I zoned her out and kept my mind on packing my things and getting the hell away from Mommy Dearest.

The last straw in all of this was that I wasn't told when my little sister's prom and graduation was taking place. Still stings a little bit though. My sister only sides with her because she can't take of herself. I understand.

At this point, praying to a God that endorses people who terrorize others for the sheer fun of it wasn't an option anymore. I haven't spoken my father in eight years. I haven't spoken to my mother in a year and five months.

I have emerged from this a compassionate and strong humanist. "God" made a mess of our lives. We were just better off without him. I wonder if my parents were humanists, maybe our lives would have better filled with more smiles instead of tears and counseling sessions.

Dealing with my loss of faith

2010-01-04T03:42:00.000-05:00

by Jimmo

Image by Malu Green! via Flickr

It has taken me many months of reading the articles on this site to finally pluck up the courage to submit a testimonial.

In some ways it feels like doing this is a declaration of loss of faith to the world at large where as so far, up to this point, it has all been happening in my head. In all truth there is still a slight niggle that professing my dying faith with my mouth (on this Internet site) will lead to eternal suffering and torture in hell.

What if I am wrong? What if the bible is all true? I do miss the personal times of walking and talking with Jesus, after all!

But the more I look at it, the more I feel that I have been caught in the BIGGEST PROTECTION RACKET the world has ever seen. Belief in this or that is vital, if not then hell awaits. But don't worry. There is a way out. Believe in Jesus and things will be hunky dory, otherwise it's Goodnight Vienna!

Like other entries, I can't believe that a God of love would allow such awful retribution.

I was raised as a Catholic. I became a Christian at 17 at a summer camp. I went to university, was a leader of the Christian Union, married a Christian lady (she is wonderful, and grows more wonderful year by year) in a Baptist church, led worship in both charismatic and Baptist churches. I have helped others to accept Jesus as saviour. I have a back catalogue of personal spiritual poems which describe my journey and intimate relationship with Jesus.

So where did it all go wrong?

I'm still working the answer to this out.

I am currently agnostic. You see I still love walking on the hills talking (praying?) wondering about the love behind creation and my life. I need something outside of myself. But I'm not yet strong enough to be self-reliant, like others that I read on this site.

Sometimes when I read comments about Christianity being BS, I think (in my brainwashed way) that that is the devil laughing and gloating and leading me to the fiery pit.

As you can see I 'm still pretty scared and haven't yet got far beyond Pascal's Wager.

In some ways I wish I could roll the clock back 10 or 15 years. Things were so much simpler before I questioned them. But now I have there is no turning back. It's not that I want to be faithless especially, but that I can't seem to deny it any more.

Recently I have been appreciating that no one is listening in to my private thoughts or keeping an eternal log. I am learning to take responsibility for my own actions and decisions and not deferring responsibility to an external source.

Life is what I make it, and it's all in my head.

Searching for meaning in life

2010-01-02T08:06:00.000-05:00

by Stefan

Image by Jari Schroderus via Flickr

It is with a great deal of discomfort and uneasiness that I have managed to take an honest account of my life. I noticed a recurring thought or theme that keeps popping up; the utter pointlessness of it all and my inability to accept it as such. At this stage I have what seems to be an ambivalent attitude towards life. I am afraid I have climbed out of one ditch just to fall into another.

I posted my de-conversion story some time ago and although not much has changed with regard to the practical aspect of my religion (I still don’t believe in any deities familiar to me); much has changed regarding the way I feel.

I think a brief account of why I find myself staring down this black abyss would be a good idea at this stage.

I was raised in a typical middle-class, white South African home, where religion played an integral part of my life. I (and by I, I mean my parents) attended a typical Protestant church, and invariably all sorts of beliefs (regarding God, eternal life, Jesus etc) were instilled in me from a very young age. Children don’t like going to church and I was no exception, but during my mid teens I became a religious fanatic. I recognized the importance of quite literally giving your life to Jesus. This was brought about by a book called “He came to set the captives free” by Rebecca Brown. Not only did it scare the ^$#$ out of me, in hindsight it was a piece of $#^&. I still read a few pages from the book every now and again when I need a laugh. Unfortunately my teenage years were pretty messed up, not due to abuse or anything (I had wonderful parents), I was just painfully shy and I had this intense yearning to be loved and accepted, thus inducing mini-emotional trauma because my shyness prevented me from making friends (pretty standard teenage stuff I guess). I think my developing an obsession with God back then, may have stemmed from this intrinsic need to be accepted and loved. God could fill the proverbial “void” that people could not.

My obsession with converting the entire world led me to study theology at university. This is where it all came tumbling down. Quickly and miraculously (this is as close to a miracle I have ever witnessed) I realized that church doctrine and God is far from infallible and even worse, trying to untangle the two leads to an unholy mess. One by one my notions regarding religion and God were shattered to pieces. Instead of a blinding light that signaled the dawn of a new paradigm, it all kind of fizzled out into an unspectacular disappointment and emptiness. The change was gradual and methodical rather than fleeting and fast. I was still the same person, I just didn’t believe in God anymore. I did have a brief period of depression, but that is to be expected.

Only after I developed a passion for philosophy and psychology (I had changed my field of study in the meantime) did I feel the excitement at the prospect of the vast unexplored horizon that is life and the human condition. This enthusiasm rekindled the meaning and comfort I had lost during my de-conversion. I spent numerous nights reading works by philosophers and authors that truly inspired me. I became somewhat of a rationalist and harboured a faint hope that one day through intellectual endeavour we might arrive at answers for our questions. For the first time in as long as I can remember I was happy. This was quite different from the self-indulgent happiness rooted in fear and parading as concern for others, I had felt as a teen. God was no longer needed and I was ok with that. I still wonder about the existence of God and I don’t mind discussing my thoughts on the subject.

After a couple of years a strange thing happened. I found myself gravitating more and more towards the morbid side of philosophy and human thought. I began reading works by thinkers such as Edgar Allan Poe, Rorty, Schopenhauer, and Nietzsche, and the one thing that enthralled me was the sheer despair felt by some as they desperately attempt to make sense of their own life. I was unaware of it at the time, but I was slowly changing. I became quite depressed, but on some masochistic level I enjoyed it. After all, how can one know joy if one does not experience pain?

At this stage I find myself staring down this dark hole trying to make sense of my world, but deep down I know that it will end in failure and these feelings of despair will always return. Some days I enjoy having the pleasure to experience pain and suffering, but one side of me always dreads it. I have been cursed with the notion that my world has to make sense, and no amount of thinking or wishing can remove that. I am torn between wanting order and meaning and recognizing that there is no such thing, yet I am unable to emancipate myself from what is essentially a part of me. I am caught in an endless cycle of cognitive dissonance from which there is no escape.

Christianity has left wounds that cannot seem to heal.

Questioning everything

2010-01-01T06:23:00.000-05:00

By David J

Image by dullhunk via Flickr

When I took the plunge into Christian fundamentalism at the tender age of 14, I was a shoe-in to accept the Bible -- lock, stock and barrel. The hope for a better afterlife was a hard deal to turn down. I had been physically and mentally abused by my father and the neighborhood kids. You see, I just wasn't rough and tumble enough for the other boys in the neighborhood. One neighborhood kid actually tried to kill me for that very reason. Enduring sexual molestation didn't help, either.

Throughout my adult life, the promise of the abundant life never materialized. Something was wrong. I still endured crippling depression and anxiety, very low self-esteem, lack of a social support system and ambition.

I bought into the lie: "Real Christianity means you have to suffer just like Jesus did." "Look at the apostles, they didn't live a charmed life." I would tell myself, "Suffering will ensure you make it into heaven." "It's a good thing that you're not like these 'worldy christians' who just go after material gain." Inside, though, I seethed with anger that I couldn't get on with my life.

With life passing me by, though, it became harder to stay on the fundamentalist treadmill. I started rebelling against those thoughts in my head. At first I would just argue with God but then "come to my senses." After all, "Hell is a long time you know," I would tell myself. The next phase was to start toying with the idea that the Bible was corrupted throughout the years of translation. That was a tough one, but I am making tremendous strides in accepting the fallacy of the Bible. The hardest hurdle I saved for last: The belief in hell. My progress with that one will be very slow. It has to be three steps forward and two steps back right now.

For me, it is an awesome thing to realize I am rejecting the framework for how I've lived my entire life.

It just amazes me how many problems are now being solved in my life by questioning everything I held sacred. I no longer have those bouts of draining anger at an invisible being; I'm seeking well qualified help for my depression and anxiety and am getting concrete results; I'm developing skills that I never had before -- social skills to successfully interact in society which will enable me to seek challenging work

It's still painful to look back at how much of my life has been wasted. One thing I am sure of though: Once a person starts getting a taste of freedom, it will be extremely difficult for fundamentalism to ensnare him/her again. Yes, freedom and thinking for oneself is a scary venture at first, but the rewards are tangible and satisfying at any age.