UPDATE FOR THOSE COMING LATE IN THE GAME: All entries are in and have been published for your review and vote. Find all the entries here.
Thanks to our friend at Debunking Christianity, John Loftus, TJM is holding a small contest. We our looking for your story. What were the triggers that led you down the path of skepticism? Did you forsake a religion? What is your de-conversion story? Have you always been an atheist? Why?
Yes, these are the things we want to hear about. May the best article win. Win what? An autographed copy of the book, ” Why I Rejected Christianity: A Former Apologist Explains” by John Loftus. Don’t know about John? Allow me to give you some background info on him.
How have I gone from being a defender of Christianity to an atheist? That is the question of this book. I was a Christian apologist set for the express purpose of defending Christianity from intellectual attacks. I was not afraid of any idea, because I was convinced that Christianity was true and could withstand all attacks. Now I turn that same intellectual muscle into questioning the things I formerly defended.
I graduated from Great Lakes Bible College, Lansing Michigan, in 1977. Afterwards I became the Associate Minister under Eddie Bratton in Kalkaska, Michigan, for two years. Then I attended Lincoln Christian Seminary, Lincoln, IL, and graduated in 1982 with M.A. and M.Div. degrees, under the mentoring of Dr. James D. Strauss. After this I attended Trinity Evangelical Divinity School, and graduated in 1985 with a Th.M degree, under the mentoring of Dr. William Lane Craig. I also took classes at Marquette University in a Ph.D. program with a double major in Philosophy and Ethics, but didn’t finish. At Marquette I studied with Dr. Ron Feenstra, Dr. Marc Greisbach, and Dr. Daniel MaGuire. I have taught extension classes for Lincoln Christian College, Lincoln, IL, and I taught for Great Lakes Christian College, Lansing, Michigan, for the College of Lake County, in Grayslake, IL, for Tri-State University, Angola, IN, and for Kellogg Community College, Battle Creek, MI. I was in the “Who’s Who Among America’s Teachers” in 1996.
From December of 1987 to December of 1990 I was the Senior Minister of the Angola Christian Church, Angola, IN, and for a year was the President of the Steuben County Ministerial Association. Before that I had several ministries in Michigan, Wisconsin and Illinois. I was in the ministry for about fourteen years, or so, and wrote many articles for the Christian weekly magazine, The Christian Standard.
I have a copy of this book, and it is a great read. Entries will be taken until Tuesday, May 6 2008. All entries will be posted in a new section on the site for peer review. Sunday, May 10, the winner will be announced. The winner will be chosen by you, the readers. There will be a rating with each essay, highest rating wins.
Pleases send all submissions to bookcontest [@] thejesusmyth.com. This email address will be invalid after may 6, so get writing! This contest is open to current authors on TJM and everyone.
My deconversion started early, but only in retrospect.
I never liked being religious, there were too many questions, and not enough answers. I could never understand the concept of a loving god. Why did people get sick? Why were some born black, had to live in a hut (in Africa) and others born rich, with the privileges that go with the skin colour? How can an innocent baby be born into sin? It made no sense. Why did an omnipotent god have to kill his only son? Why, why. Why were I not allowed to ask these questions? Why were there no plausible answers? I prayed regularly, but could literally feel my prayers bounce off the ceiling. It was going nowhere. And neither was I.
My earliest church memories were Sunday school in a Dutch Reformed church. Soon after, my father joined the Jehovah’s Witnesses. I hated them, hated to have to attend their bible studies, hated all their stupid rules. I was the only teenager not allowed to have a birthday party, or to attend one. I was the only one in my high school who did not go on youth camps, no Friday evening social gatherings at the church, or anywhere else for that matter. I had no social life, as Jehovah's Witnesses were not allowed to mix with the sinners of the world.
I was 17 when my dad suddenly died in a car accident. Although I was devastated, I was also rid of the JWs. The congregational leader who performed the burial, said to me: You should fill the void with god. YEAH RIGHT. I decided there and then they will never see me again.
So I drifted in and out of church on Sundays and the Friday night youth meetings, not for anything BUT the social life. I went to the University of Pretoria, attended church regularly in the hope of getting a boyfriend. And lo and behold, I did. A wonderful guy whose life ambition was to become a Dutch Reformed minister!! URGHH. I knew I would NEVER be able to be a minister’s wife, I wanted a life, not a damn congregation.
So our ways parted. I met my husband, got married in a church, had my two boys. Suddenly I wanted them to have a religious upbringing, for their sake, so they would not go to hell. At some stage I believed in the rapture; I tried to live a good life, prayed regularly. We attended church, sent them to Sunday School. We were in the Dutch Reformed Church, later joined a fast growing charismatic church. I kinda enjoyed it, it had about 15,000 members; I was part of a group AT LAST. I attended Bible study, had many friends, I had the social life I so much desired in high school.
Still my prayers bounced off the ceiling. I could never speak in tongues, no matter how hard I tried. I never had the holy laughter. But I persevered, as I did not want to go to hell, and definitely did not want my beloved boys go to hell, for I know about the sins of the fathers … My husband drifted away, he could not stand the noise in the charismatic church, he did not want to attend, and when he did, he refused to dance around and clap his hands. I was so embarrassed.
We then moved to New York. Suddenly I had no friends, no social life again. Okay, back to the drawing board, I started attending all kinds of churches. But the congregations were much smaller, I could not relate to anyone. And to top it all, you could only be a “member” if you tithed regularly. It pissed me off, but I persevered. I even attend a Jewish reformed church, run by a Rabbi. I loved the tradition, hated everything else.
Then a close family friend told me he became an atheist. I was shocked to my core. I had the whole congregation pray for him and his wife. I cried myself to sleep at night. I was devastated, how could they let go of the only thing between them and eternal hell?
Slowly reason dawned on me. They are extremely intelligent, they would not take such a drastic step without good reason. I started investigating, studying, searching, for the first time in my life. I wanted the truth, I wanted god to be real, I wanted the Bible to be true.
When I realized that all the years of believing were wasted, that there is nothing, no one, it was as if the bottom fell out of my world. At first I did not want to tell my husband, I was too embarrassed. In the end he did not need telling, he knew, as he knows me so well.
The feeling, the emotions I experienced there and then, was of tremendous relief. A mountain was lifted off my shoulders, I was free at last. Free of fear, free of make believe, free of a burden.
In the beginning I missed god, I missed Jesus, as I relied on them to protect me, to care for me. Now I had to stand on my own two feet, take responsibility. I missed Satan, as I could always put the blame of my “sins” on him. This passed quickly.
What a glorious relief I felt. It was and is a wonderful feeling.
My deconversion started early, but only in retrospect.
I never liked being religious, there were too many questions, and not enough answers. I could never understand the concept of a loving god. Why did people get sick? Why were some born black, had to live in a hut (in Africa) and others born rich, with the privileges that go with the skin colour? How can an innocent baby be born into sin? It made no sense. Why did an omnipotent god have to kill his only son? Why, why. Why were I not allowed to ask these questions? Why were there no plausible answers? I prayed regularly, but could literally feel my prayers bounce off the ceiling. It was going nowhere. And neither was I.
My earliest church memories were Sunday school in a Dutch Reformed church. Soon after, my father joined the Jehovah’s Witnesses. I hated them, hated to have to attend their bible studies, hated all their stupid rules. I was the only teenager not allowed to have a birthday party, or to attend one. I was the only one in my high school who did not go on youth camps, no Friday evening social gatherings at the church, or anywhere else for that matter. I had no social life, as Jehovah’s Witnesses were not allowed to mix with the sinners of the world.
I was 17 when my dad suddenly died in a car accident. Although I was devastated, I was also rid of the JWs. The congregational leader who performed the burial, said to me: You should fill the void with god. YEAH RIGHT. I decided there and then they will never see me again.
So I drifted in and out of church on Sundays and the Friday night youth meetings, not for anything BUT the social life. I went to the University of Pretoria, attended church regularly in the hope of getting a boyfriend. And lo and behold, I did. A wonderful guy whose life ambition was to become a Dutch Reformed minister!! URGHH. I knew I would NEVER be able to be a minister’s wife, I wanted a life, not a damn congregation.
So our ways parted. I met my husband, got married in a church, had my two boys. Suddenly I wanted them to have a religious upbringing, for their sake, so they would not go to hell. At some stage I believed in the rapture; I tried to live a good life, prayed regularly. We attended church, sent them to Sunday School. We were in the Dutch Reformed Church, later joined a fast growing charismatic church. I kinda enjoyed it, it had about 15,000 members; I was part of a group AT LAST. I attended Bible study, had many friends, I had the social life I so much desired in high school.
Still my prayers bounced off the ceiling. I could never speak in tongues, no matter how hard I tried. I never had the holy laughter. But I persevered, as I did not want to go to hell, and definitely did not want my beloved boys go to hell, for I know about the sins of the fathers … My husband drifted away, he could not stand the noise in the charismatic church, he did not want to attend, and when he did, he refused to dance around and clap his hands. I was so embarrassed.
We then moved to New York. Suddenly I had no friends, no social life again. Okay, back to the drawing board, I started attending all kinds of churches. But the congregations were much smaller, I could not relate to anyone. And to top it all, you could only be a “member” if you tithed regularly. It pissed me off, but I persevered. I even attend a Jewish reformed church, run by a Rabbi. I loved the tradition, hated everything else.
Then a close family friend told me he became an atheist. I was shocked to my core. I had the whole congregation pray for him and his wife. I cried myself to sleep at night. I was devastated, how could they let go of the only thing between them and eternal hell?
Slowly reason dawned on me. They are extremely intelligent, they would not take such a drastic step without good reason. I started investigating, studying, searching, for the first time in my life. I wanted the truth, I wanted god to be real, I wanted the Bible to be true.
When I realized that all the years of believing were wasted, that there is nothing, no one, it was as if the bottom fell out of my world. At first I did not want to tell my husband, I was too embarrassed. In the end he did not need telling, he knew, as he knows me so well.
The feeling, the emotions I experienced there and then, was of tremendous relief. A mountain was lifted off my shoulders, I was free at last. Free of fear, free of make believe, free of a burden.
In the beginning I missed god, I missed Jesus, as I relied on them to protect me, to care for me. Now I had to stand on my own two feet, take responsibility. I missed Satan, as I could always put the blame of my “sins” on him. This passed quickly.
What a glorious relief I felt. It was and is a wonderful feeling.
Luci, I know how you feel.
I was born into a Jehovah's Witness home. For most of my life now, I was a JW, going through all the hoops, knocking on doors, not having birthday parties, not having a social life, and rules with hardly a skeptical muse or honest thought about any of it. I had no problems with religion, but as a human being, I was worthless. I had no productive goals in my life, everything was centered around a religious purpose. As a man, I would have never had a career or a specialized trade to support myself due to religious goals.
I had a great social network of friends however. People who didn't actual care about the irrationality, and more about the friendship. My best friend and mentor was one of those. We did a lot together. Eventually though, my best friend and mentor was "disfellowshipped" from the congregation, and committed suicide a week later.
This told me something that I have continually thought about since then. Why do we believe? My faith was based on a surrealistic hope that could never be proven; it required such a big leap of faith, that I no longer had the answers I once "understood" and "accepted". My friend died because of the social disaster that is organized religion. The worst part about it? Because he committed suicide, the Elders of the church insisted that we don't go to the funeral on grounds that he was disfellowshipped. WHAT?!
So, I accepted that, and didn't go. I didn't go to my mentor's funeral.
Over time I began to study and understand the psychology of how the JW 'paradigm' works. It's quite amazing how influential this religion can be to your very core.
I got interested in Carl Sagan's work, his miniseries Cosmos came on the Science Channel. What an amazing human he was! So interested in humanity, and with what a wonderful message and intent to save us from ourselves! He lit my skeptical candle and I still go back to read his books and watch Cosmos. (As you all should!)
Near the beginning of 2007, I began reading atheistic blogs such as PZ Myers's Pharyngula, and Phil Plait's Bad Astronomy. These blogs and others were pivotal to my change in beliefs. It showed me that there are liked-minded people out there who actually love humanity for who they are and not for their beliefs in a supernatural being.
Eventually my anxiety with the irrationality of religion got the best of me and I had no choice but to fight. My first step begin with my parents. The struggle and debates with my parents were paramount as they are very fundamental about the JW teachings. It shocked them that I could decide against "the truth" (or fundamental beliefs) as believers in the JW religion call it. Their arguments against evolution are the tried and true creationist tactics. Their arguments/proofs of God were purely arguments of ignorance. I find it funny that their whole belief system is based on human reasoning, and yet they shun the idea of human reasoning (as long as it isn't their own!).
I would like to just say that these are my parents, whom I love dearly. To my parents, religion is everything. So to have their own blood disagree with what they believe to be true and to state that they are irrational is possibly the worst stab you can ever share with them. They will never heal from the idea that God is going to kill me in "Armageddon". *groan*
The usual action that JW's take when dealing with someone who no longer believes is to study with him/her, because obviously he or she is just down, or overstressed — no one could ever deny the truth of their teachings — especially someone who was born into it!
So my parents decided to get the elders to speak with me. In every argument or debate that they insisted on having, I consistently showed the flaws of their teachings. (If you are ever interested in learning about what they teach, don't ask for a bible study, it's like internet spam mail.)
The biggest struggle of all was just leaving the religion altogether. My parents threatened to kick me out of the house if I did and the church itself is a large social network of people I mutually loved, respected, and looked up to; thus to have to leave it all behind was a major step.
In this span of time, I registered for college at my local community college. The situation between my parents and I slowly started to heal over. Then, the week before my college classes started, I finally left the religion of my own free will. Of course that wasn't the end of it for the JW's. On many occasions I have had people who I loved, hound me about religion. I now enjoy religious debates, haha. In the end though, it is an on-going battle with anxiety, but all I can do is cope with it knowing that I'm finally walking with my own two feet and mind. One more lit candle in the darkness or irrationality.
Reading the God Delusion only strengthened my resolve to be my own independent person, what a well argued book. I now look at life through eyes that I never thought I would have some 2-3 years ago. As a secular humanist, I only wish for the best from humanity, and I hope to serve the human cause as an electrical engineer. Carl Sagan is my hero, he made a stand for humanity, and is now what I stand for. We can change the world for the better. All it requires is the empathy and unquestioned love for humanity.
I am 23, and I am an atheist, loving life more than I ever have. I am forever in love with gaining knowledge about the universe, and will always be my greatest desire — to learn all I can. The irrationality I once had, the unquestioned inerrant beliefs in the Bible, creationism, distrust for man, fear of demons — all gone. I can now sleep at night. I can only thank my fellow humans for that.
Some day I would like to write an autobiography on it or something. Not to fulfill any personal desire, but to out the danger of organized religion, and as a self-help guide to those born into such a disaster of a religion.
Reading Luci's and Stark's stories I realize that accepting atheism may have as much to do with nature as nurture, and whether you were born with a skeptical outlook or not.
My atheism began before I truly understood what giving up Christianity would mean.
I was baptized as a Catholic and confirmed as an Episcopalian, but throughout my childhood I had a really hard time accepting the proffered explanations for disease, war, poverty and pain.
When my grandfather, to whom I was closest of all the grandkids, died, I was almost panicky when I had trouble picturing him in any kind of "heaven." The loss somehow seemed so much more profound when I didn't have any idea of what really happened to him. It felt like there was some piece physically missing from my chest, and it was hard to breathe. It all seemed like some kind of cruel trick, or just another of the many white lies adults tell children to put off difficult questions.
At the same time I was dealing with a move and taking care of my younger sister, who is almost 11 years my junior and whom my mother immediately turned over to my sister and me for care after she was done nursing. So stress was a bit of a factor.
And then one day, I was riding my bike home from school and all of the pieces just fell into place: the reason God allowed pain, disease and war was because he didn't exist. The reason I couldn't picture my grandfather in Heaven was because it didn't exist – the same reason that I could never really bring myself to fear Hell or believe that the Devil was after my soul. The reason the Church could offer no help with regards to my personality disordered Mom beyond the 5th Commandment was because there were no religious answers to a psychologically troubled parent, because religion itself was an empty suit, the ultimate naked emperor.
Realizing all of this was at once liberating and terrifying. The idea of a godless universe scared me not because of a lack of salvation or heaven or life beyond this life, but because of the lack of the kind of extraordinary aid only a god could give. If there was no god to cure disease, stop war, and alleviate poverty and pain, to make my mom less crazy, then, frighteningly, it was up to Us. This meant it was at least partially up to me – a daunting responsibility for a kid.
I still had to go to church, and strangely found the community more comforting after the loss of my belief, not less. In the end, these people were here to support one another, whatever the priests did or did not say from the lectern. Once I was out of the house, though, going to church was no longer an option: I was off at college and could not trick myself into feeling the same community ion a strange place that I had at my home church. I felt the loss loss of ritual, spirituality and communion deeply.
Despite my atheism, I still love the language of the Episcopalian 1928 Book of Common Prayer; I love going to familiar services, singing hymns and carols, and experiencing that communal bond that you can feel few other places. There are feelings of transcendence, wholeness, common purpose, community and wellbeing that are developed and strengthened early in life in these spiritual settings.
I have been very concerned as a loving, atheist Mom that our son would never experience that sense of transcendence, that his brain would never develop those pathways to the type of comfort, ritual and human understanding that he could return to and draw from all his life.
I thought about taking him to the Episcopal church, to give him at least that sense of community and expose him to the beauty of the services and the music that were such a large part of my childhood, but that felt dishonest (and was unacceptable to my atheist husband). We thought about going to the Unitarian church, but that spoke to a belief in a higher being, however loosely defined, that we didn’t hold either. I was still struggling with this dilemma when we began taking tae kwon do classes together.
Eight months before we joined our TKD school, my dearest friend died in childbirth, and I had not been there with her. Karen had traveled hundreds of miles and sacrificed a great deal to be present at our son’s birth, and when she died I had no spiritual center where I could go to seek solace, no practice to draw myself out of my grief and the guilt I felt for letting her down. Even six months later, I wondered if I'd ever get past it.
In stark contrast, a little more than a year after joining our TKD school, when I suffered a miscarriage after years of infertility, having the school there pulled me through. Family members thought I was a bit nuts to go back to Tae Kwon Do class after just a few days, but I had to; it pulled me out of myself, and gave me a way to stay focused on our son and in the present. Within six weeks, I had regained my equilibrium and was even hopeful about our chances for a successful pregnancy in the future. (A girl can dream.)
So for those out there who have lost their beliefs but are afraid to give up religion because they are afraid of losing their community and sense of belonging: THERE ARE OPTIONS OUT THERE. It may take some trial and error, but you can find a place that gives you what a religious community can, without relying on myths or threats of damnation. Build what works for you, and take comfort in the humanity all around you.
Luci, I know how you feel.
I was born into a Jehovah’s Witness home. For most of my life now, I was a JW, going through all the hoops, knocking on doors, not having birthday parties, not having a social life, and rules with hardly a skeptical muse or honest thought about any of it. I had no problems with religion, but as a human being, I was worthless. I had no productive goals in my life, everything was centered around a religious purpose. As a man, I would have never had a career or a specialized trade to support myself due to religious goals.
I had a great social network of friends however. People who didn’t actual care about the irrationality, and more about the friendship. My best friend and mentor was one of those. We did a lot together. Eventually though, my best friend and mentor was “disfellowshipped” from the congregation, and committed suicide a week later.
This told me something that I have continually thought about since then. Why do we believe? My faith was based on a surrealistic hope that could never be proven; it required such a big leap of faith, that I no longer had the answers I once “understood” and “accepted”. My friend died because of the social disaster that is organized religion. The worst part about it? Because he committed suicide, the Elders of the church insisted that we don’t go to the funeral on grounds that he was disfellowshipped. WHAT?!
So, I accepted that, and didn’t go. I didn’t go to my mentor’s funeral.
Over time I began to study and understand the psychology of how the JW ‘paradigm’ works. It’s quite amazing how influential this religion can be to your very core.
I got interested in Carl Sagan’s work, his miniseries Cosmos came on the Science Channel. What an amazing human he was! So interested in humanity, and with what a wonderful message and intent to save us from ourselves! He lit my skeptical candle and I still go back to read his books and watch Cosmos. (As you all should!)
Near the beginning of 2007, I began reading atheistic blogs such as PZ Myers’s Pharyngula, and Phil Plait’s Bad Astronomy. These blogs and others were pivotal to my change in beliefs. It showed me that there are liked-minded people out there who actually love humanity for who they are and not for their beliefs in a supernatural being.
Eventually my anxiety with the irrationality of religion got the best of me and I had no choice but to fight. My first step begin with my parents. The struggle and debates with my parents were paramount as they are very fundamental about the JW teachings. It shocked them that I could decide against “the truth” (or fundamental beliefs) as believers in the JW religion call it. Their arguments against evolution are the tried and true creationist tactics. Their arguments/proofs of God were purely arguments of ignorance. I find it funny that their whole belief system is based on human reasoning, and yet they shun the idea of human reasoning (as long as it isn’t their own!).
I would like to just say that these are my parents, whom I love dearly. To my parents, religion is everything. So to have their own blood disagree with what they believe to be true and to state that they are irrational is possibly the worst stab you can ever share with them. They will never heal from the idea that God is going to kill me in “Armageddon”. *groan*
The usual action that JW’s take when dealing with someone who no longer believes is to study with him/her, because obviously he or she is just down, or overstressed — no one could ever deny the truth of their teachings — especially someone who was born into it!
So my parents decided to get the elders to speak with me. In every argument or debate that they insisted on having, I consistently showed the flaws of their teachings. (If you are ever interested in learning about what they teach, don’t ask for a bible study, it’s like internet spam mail.)
The biggest struggle of all was just leaving the religion altogether. My parents threatened to kick me out of the house if I did and the church itself is a large social network of people I mutually loved, respected, and looked up to; thus to have to leave it all behind was a major step.
In this span of time, I registered for college at my local community college. The situation between my parents and I slowly started to heal over. Then, the week before my college classes started, I finally left the religion of my own free will. Of course that wasn’t the end of it for the JW’s. On many occasions I have had people who I loved, hound me about religion. I now enjoy religious debates, haha. In the end though, it is an on-going battle with anxiety, but all I can do is cope with it knowing that I’m finally walking with my own two feet and mind. One more lit candle in the darkness or irrationality.
Reading the God Delusion only strengthened my resolve to be my own independent person, what a well argued book. I now look at life through eyes that I never thought I would have some 2-3 years ago. As a secular humanist, I only wish for the best from humanity, and I hope to serve the human cause as an electrical engineer. Carl Sagan is my hero, he made a stand for humanity, and is now what I stand for. We can change the world for the better. All it requires is the empathy and unquestioned love for humanity.
I am 23, and I am an atheist, loving life more than I ever have. I am forever in love with gaining knowledge about the universe, and will always be my greatest desire — to learn all I can. The irrationality I once had, the unquestioned inerrant beliefs in the Bible, creationism, distrust for man, fear of demons — all gone. I can now sleep at night. I can only thank my fellow humans for that.
Some day I would like to write an autobiography on it or something. Not to fulfill any personal desire, but to out the danger of organized religion, and as a self-help guide to those born into such a disaster of a religion.
Reading Luci’s and Stark’s stories I realize that accepting atheism may have as much to do with nature as nurture, and whether you were born with a skeptical outlook or not.
My atheism began before I truly understood what giving up Christianity would mean.
I was baptized as a Catholic and confirmed as an Episcopalian, but throughout my childhood I had a really hard time accepting the proffered explanations for disease, war, poverty and pain.
When my grandfather, to whom I was closest of all the grandkids, died, I was almost panicky when I had trouble picturing him in any kind of “heaven.” The loss somehow seemed so much more profound when I didn’t have any idea of what really happened to him. It felt like there was some piece physically missing from my chest, and it was hard to breathe. It all seemed like some kind of cruel trick, or just another of the many white lies adults tell children to put off difficult questions.
At the same time I was dealing with a move and taking care of my younger sister, who is almost 11 years my junior and whom my mother immediately turned over to my sister and me for care after she was done nursing. So stress was a bit of a factor.
And then one day, I was riding my bike home from school and all of the pieces just fell into place: the reason God allowed pain, disease and war was because he didn’t exist. The reason I couldn’t picture my grandfather in Heaven was because it didn’t exist – the same reason that I could never really bring myself to fear Hell or believe that the Devil was after my soul. The reason the Church could offer no help with regards to my personality disordered Mom beyond the 5th Commandment was because there were no religious answers to a psychologically troubled parent, because religion itself was an empty suit, the ultimate naked emperor.
Realizing all of this was at once liberating and terrifying. The idea of a godless universe scared me not because of a lack of salvation or heaven or life beyond this life, but because of the lack of the kind of extraordinary aid only a god could give. If there was no god to cure disease, stop war, and alleviate poverty and pain, to make my mom less crazy, then, frighteningly, it was up to Us. This meant it was at least partially up to me – a daunting responsibility for a kid.
I still had to go to church, and strangely found the community more comforting after the loss of my belief, not less. In the end, these people were here to support one another, whatever the priests did or did not say from the lectern. Once I was out of the house, though, going to church was no longer an option: I was off at college and could not trick myself into feeling the same community ion a strange place that I had at my home church. I felt the loss loss of ritual, spirituality and communion deeply.
Despite my atheism, I still love the language of the Episcopalian 1928 Book of Common Prayer; I love going to familiar services, singing hymns and carols, and experiencing that communal bond that you can feel few other places. There are feelings of transcendence, wholeness, common purpose, community and wellbeing that are developed and strengthened early in life in these spiritual settings.
I have been very concerned as a loving, atheist Mom that our son would never experience that sense of transcendence, that his brain would never develop those pathways to the type of comfort, ritual and human understanding that he could return to and draw from all his life.
I thought about taking him to the Episcopal church, to give him at least that sense of community and expose him to the beauty of the services and the music that were such a large part of my childhood, but that felt dishonest (and was unacceptable to my atheist husband). We thought about going to the Unitarian church, but that spoke to a belief in a higher being, however loosely defined, that we didn’t hold either. I was still struggling with this dilemma when we began taking tae kwon do classes together.
Eight months before we joined our TKD school, my dearest friend died in childbirth, and I had not been there with her. Karen had traveled hundreds of miles and sacrificed a great deal to be present at our son’s birth, and when she died I had no spiritual center where I could go to seek solace, no practice to draw myself out of my grief and the guilt I felt for letting her down. Even six months later, I wondered if I’d ever get past it.
In stark contrast, a little more than a year after joining our TKD school, when I suffered a miscarriage after years of infertility, having the school there pulled me through. Family members thought I was a bit nuts to go back to Tae Kwon Do class after just a few days, but I had to; it pulled me out of myself, and gave me a way to stay focused on our son and in the present. Within six weeks, I had regained my equilibrium and was even hopeful about our chances for a successful pregnancy in the future. (A girl can dream.)
So for those out there who have lost their beliefs but are afraid to give up religion because they are afraid of losing their community and sense of belonging: THERE ARE OPTIONS OUT THERE. It may take some trial and error, but you can find a place that gives you what a religious community can, without relying on myths or threats of damnation. Build what works for you, and take comfort in the humanity all around you.
Three events have led to my being an atheist:
1) I read the bible (age 8);
2) I met Ken Ham (age 23);
3) I read Dawkins and Pharyngula (age 43).
I read the Bible from cover to cover when I was eight years old. Knowing what the stories and parables actually said (and not being shy about correcting over-simplifications) was enough to get me kicked out of Roman Catholic Sunday school on the very first day, as the sister in charge kindly said: "You don't need to be here, love."
I stayed RC until university, where I met the new crowd in town, which were fundamentalists from the US (Australia had not had a Creationist history at all). One of the people I met was Ken Ham, from whose lips I heard for the first time the notion that the creation story was literal. He was the first Christian that I had ever met that actually scared me. Australian creationists have to be particularly divorced from reality, since the animals described in Genesis are not native to Australia, and Europeans more-or-less introduced agriculture; can you imagine how nonsensical Genesis was to the aboriginal people as late as 1780?
I returned to the RC fold (the priest was Jesuit-trained), where we were encouraged to study and think, and look for historical context. A contradiction was seen as something to be resolved, not something to be ignored. The big question for me was how Jewish law, obviously so important up until the moment of Jesus' death, could be jettisoned afterwards, not by the disciples that Jesus had hand picked, but by one who was given the task to stamp out the Jewish insurrection. This man suddenly, and conveniently, had a vision, and proclaimed the Law a curse, rather than The Way, completely reversing Jesus' position, even in it's extant form. Did God make such a mistake sending Jesus that a redo was required?
That more or less jettisoned my faith in Pauline Christianity, but it wasn't until the meme of "teaching evolution is teaching a world without God" started hitting Australian shores, that I began to see how damaging religion could be.
I started to read Richard Dawkins' books, and the bastion of rationality, Pharyngula, and the last shreds of belief in God fell away. Why not believe in the FSM, or an invisible pink unicorn? It would make just as much sense. There is simply no internally-consistent evidence on which to base a belief in any god.
My conversion story started pretty early. Having been raised a Catholic, seasoned with Catholic school since age five, and with a strong Catholic upbringing, I was ripe with the Lord. I was at church every Sunday and on every holy day of obligation. My upbringing not withstanding, it didn’t take too long for the skeptic in me to ask the first questions of Atheism 101: How can you have an all forgiving God and Damnation? Can I be happy in heaven knowing a loved one is burning is hell?
These thoughts were an incessant torment. It was a never ending storm of the soul, but these storms didn’t prevent me from performing my duties as an Alter boy. I spent a lot of time in church and saw more than my fair share of masses. During these endless and tedious celebrations I exercised my doubts in an oppressively heavy-handed and fantastically ornate environment.
One Sunday, I got called in to serve a special funeral ceremony for a dead Monsignor. This mass would have all of the bells and whistles of a Roman Catholic high mass. Extra candles, incense, big gold covered books…..the works.
Before the doors opened, all of the local priests had the corpse in its coffin in the church for a special ceremony. They were praying over it and anointing it with oils. The plan for the service was to wheel the coffin out after the priests were done with it, let everyone in for the mass, get them seated, and then wheel the Monsignor back in for his big entrance as the guest of honor.
In the time between the priests finishing up with him and the pall bearers wheeling him out, I needed to light the special candles that they set up lining the aisle to the alter. The priests had left the church, it was dark and empty, and I was standing alone next to the corpse with a lit candle in my hand.
Now at this moment, I am struggling with my faith, no less the disposition of my eternal soul. This day is no different than any other in this regard; I am having an epic struggle in my head over my faith, a constant battle that still rages to this day in one form or another. This day, I was ready for a fight.
“Show me a sign!” I shouted in my head, for the 30th time that day.
I was ready to have it out with Him. God was such a personal being after a decade of training, that I had had it, I was calling him out. I had largely given up on faith by this time but getting over the fear was the hardest part for me. Fear was the primary impediment to my freedom.
Now while the armies of logic raged in my head and the waves of doubt crashed on the shores, there was still the pressing matter of an open coffin with a dead priest in it. Being 12 years old, and new to dead Monsignors, I bent in to check out what all the fuss was about and to see what the priests were up to. As I leaned in, I silently shouted again to the Lord, “Show me Something, Anything!”
Wouldn’t you know it that sucker twitched.
I’m not sure if he was settling after being moved by the priests, or if it was gas, or whatever, but that son of a bitch twitched.
Now a lot of kids in a dark, empty church with a twitching dead priest, would probably freak out a bit.
I was no different, but it was more than just panic and terror. I was mad!
“Fuck you!” I yelled out loud to an empty church.
I scowled at the 30 foot tall Risen Christ over the alter of the church.
With my heart pounding in my ears, “Fuck you!” I said, “That’s it?”
With the echo of my blasphemy still rattling through the church, I asked the Lord, “Is that the best you can do? Scaring the shit out of a boy! Fucking parlor tricks? I’m struggling with my eternal soul and you’re fucking around?”
I was pissed off. I realized in an instant that if this cruel and spiteful God did exist, he was worthy of nothing but scorn. From that day forward, I never feared for my soul. I knew that all God was good for was scaring children.
So that was my moment, It’s not easy to throw off the shackles of Catholicism. This was my banner day in making the first solid steps. I’ve never looked back and I’ve never been happier.
Gregg J. Rieker
aunrd@rcn.com
My reason for becoming an atheist is almost trivial. I have been an atheist almost all my life (45 years). Most of my family are religious, and some active church-goers. My first memory of religion was being told by a Sunday school teacher that the rainbow was a sign of God's promise to Noah that he wouldn't cause it to rain for 7 days, and I thought "Yeah, right…".
Three events have led to my being an atheist:
1) I read the bible (age 8);
2) I met Ken Ham (age 23);
3) I read Dawkins and Pharyngula (age 43).
I read the Bible from cover to cover when I was eight years old. Knowing what the stories and parables actually said (and not being shy about correcting over-simplifications) was enough to get me kicked out of Roman Catholic Sunday school on the very first day, as the sister in charge kindly said: “You don’t need to be here, love.”
I stayed RC until university, where I met the new crowd in town, which were fundamentalists from the US (Australia had not had a Creationist history at all). One of the people I met was Ken Ham, from whose lips I heard for the first time the notion that the creation story was literal. He was the first Christian that I had ever met that actually scared me. Australian creationists have to be particularly divorced from reality, since the animals described in Genesis are not native to Australia, and Europeans more-or-less introduced agriculture; can you imagine how nonsensical Genesis was to the aboriginal people as late as 1780?
I returned to the RC fold (the priest was Jesuit-trained), where we were encouraged to study and think, and look for historical context. A contradiction was seen as something to be resolved, not something to be ignored. The big question for me was how Jewish law, obviously so important up until the moment of Jesus’ death, could be jettisoned afterwards, not by the disciples that Jesus had hand picked, but by one who was given the task to stamp out the Jewish insurrection. This man suddenly, and conveniently, had a vision, and proclaimed the Law a curse, rather than The Way, completely reversing Jesus’ position, even in it’s extant form. Did God make such a mistake sending Jesus that a redo was required?
That more or less jettisoned my faith in Pauline Christianity, but it wasn’t until the meme of “teaching evolution is teaching a world without God” started hitting Australian shores, that I began to see how damaging religion could be.
I started to read Richard Dawkins’ books, and the bastion of rationality, Pharyngula, and the last shreds of belief in God fell away. Why not believe in the FSM, or an invisible pink unicorn? It would make just as much sense. There is simply no internally-consistent evidence on which to base a belief in any god.
My conversion story started pretty early. Having been raised a Catholic, seasoned with Catholic school since age five, and with a strong Catholic upbringing, I was ripe with the Lord. I was at church every Sunday and on every holy day of obligation. My upbringing not withstanding, it didn’t take too long for the skeptic in me to ask the first questions of Atheism 101: How can you have an all forgiving God and Damnation? Can I be happy in heaven knowing a loved one is burning is hell?
These thoughts were an incessant torment. It was a never ending storm of the soul, but these storms didn’t prevent me from performing my duties as an Alter boy. I spent a lot of time in church and saw more than my fair share of masses. During these endless and tedious celebrations I exercised my doubts in an oppressively heavy-handed and fantastically ornate environment.
One Sunday, I got called in to serve a special funeral ceremony for a dead Monsignor. This mass would have all of the bells and whistles of a Roman Catholic high mass. Extra candles, incense, big gold covered books…..the works.
Before the doors opened, all of the local priests had the corpse in its coffin in the church for a special ceremony. They were praying over it and anointing it with oils. The plan for the service was to wheel the coffin out after the priests were done with it, let everyone in for the mass, get them seated, and then wheel the Monsignor back in for his big entrance as the guest of honor.
In the time between the priests finishing up with him and the pall bearers wheeling him out, I needed to light the special candles that they set up lining the aisle to the alter. The priests had left the church, it was dark and empty, and I was standing alone next to the corpse with a lit candle in my hand.
Now at this moment, I am struggling with my faith, no less the disposition of my eternal soul. This day is no different than any other in this regard; I am having an epic struggle in my head over my faith, a constant battle that still rages to this day in one form or another. This day, I was ready for a fight.
“Show me a sign!” I shouted in my head, for the 30th time that day.
I was ready to have it out with Him. God was such a personal being after a decade of training, that I had had it, I was calling him out. I had largely given up on faith by this time but getting over the fear was the hardest part for me. Fear was the primary impediment to my freedom.
Now while the armies of logic raged in my head and the waves of doubt crashed on the shores, there was still the pressing matter of an open coffin with a dead priest in it. Being 12 years old, and new to dead Monsignors, I bent in to check out what all the fuss was about and to see what the priests were up to. As I leaned in, I silently shouted again to the Lord, “Show me Something, Anything!”
Wouldn’t you know it that sucker twitched.
I’m not sure if he was settling after being moved by the priests, or if it was gas, or whatever, but that son of a bitch twitched.
Now a lot of kids in a dark, empty church with a twitching dead priest, would probably freak out a bit.
I was no different, but it was more than just panic and terror. I was mad!
“Fuck you!” I yelled out loud to an empty church.
I scowled at the 30 foot tall Risen Christ over the alter of the church.
With my heart pounding in my ears, “Fuck you!” I said, “That’s it?”
With the echo of my blasphemy still rattling through the church, I asked the Lord, “Is that the best you can do? Scaring the shit out of a boy! Fucking parlor tricks? I’m struggling with my eternal soul and you’re fucking around?”
I was pissed off. I realized in an instant that if this cruel and spiteful God did exist, he was worthy of nothing but scorn. From that day forward, I never feared for my soul. I knew that all God was good for was scaring children.
So that was my moment, It’s not easy to throw off the shackles of Catholicism. This was my banner day in making the first solid steps. I’ve never looked back and I’ve never been happier.
Gregg J. Rieker
aunrd@rcn.com
My reason for becoming an atheist is almost trivial. I have been an atheist almost all my life (45+ years). Most of my family are religious, and some active church-goers. My first memory of religion was being told by a Sunday school teacher that the rainbow was a sign of God’s promise to Noah that he wouldn’t cause it to rain for 7 days, and I thought “Yeah, right…”.
Having read some of the posts here, my story seems pretty typical. Since I've never really told the story or even thought about the progression as a whole, I thought, "why not write it down here?".
So, I was born into a Roman Catholic family 37.5 years ago. I was sent to Catholic grade school and high school (I actually got a pretty good H.S. education and was introduced to the scientific method and evolution there). I lived a sheltered life, forced to go to mass every Sunday and to do the altar boy thing for a while too. I never really got anything out of mass…ever. After I went to college, I never went to mass except when I was home and my parents made me.
The first memory I have that something wasn't quite right was when I was about 8 or 9. I asked my mother if god had parents. My mother was friends with many priests at the school I attended and she told me to go ask the priest who taught the upper level religion classes at the high school. He told me that god did not have parents, but that he had always existed. I pressed him for details. If he wasn't born, then how did he get there? Answer: he was just there. Rather unsatisfying, don't you think?
By the age of 13 or 14, I remember thinking that the whole resurrection thing (and all the miracles) just didn't seem like anything I could believe in. I never thought of calling it quits or anything, I just went through the motions to keep my parents off my back and didn't really concern myself with thinking about religion. I continued along this path for many years, always thinking in the back of my mind that all of this religion stuff was useless and a waste of time.
I finished college, worked a few years, got married, and went to vet school. When I moved to my current home, my wife started going to church. I was having some problems with my temper due to stress and anxiety about my new job and my wife convinced me to try going to church with her. I tried really hard to get something out of mass (Episcopal), but remained bored with it and generally unimpressed with the whole scene. We joined a young adults group and went to some classes/discussion groups/etc. I found that everything they talked about (e.g. the power of prayer, the resurrection, etc) was absolute bunk. I kept looking for some kind of proof for the claims people made, but only got arguments from personal experience and arguments from authority (you know, the usual garbage). So, I stopped going.
It was during this time that I first read Carl Sagan's wonderful book, "The Demon-Haunted World" and discovered a term for what I had been experiencing all those years without knowing it: skepticism. Suddenly, it was OK to doubt all these things I had been indoctrinated with–it was natural to do so and it was right to do so. I began reading voraciously about science, evolution, cosmology, philosophy, etc. My mind was opened like it had never been before. The more I read, the more I drifted away from my religious burden.
At this time, I was working with a woman who was very smart and science-minded, yet, oddly, 100% convinced of god's existence and the truth of the Jesus story. We began talking about it frequently. I argued against god's existence often. One day she asked me if I was an atheist. At first, I said no. I never thought of that as an option. Me? An atheist? No, I'm just playing devil's advocate.
Then, I listened to "The God Delusion", read Dennett and Harris, explored the myriad internet sites related to atheism, and started thinking. At some point about a 1.5 years ago, I accepted the fact that I am a non-believer and a non-christian and slowly introduced my wife to this new position. She's coping with it and is (maybe) beginning to think about some of my points and (just maybe) beginning down a similar path.
So that's it. I think deep down, I've been an atheist most of my life, but only recently understood it was an position I could take and still be a moral, loving, and caring human being.
Having read some of the posts here, my story seems pretty typical. Since I’ve never really told the story or even thought about the progression as a whole, I thought, “why not write it down here?”.
So, I was born into a Roman Catholic family 37.5 years ago. I was sent to Catholic grade school and high school (I actually got a pretty good H.S. education and was introduced to the scientific method and evolution there). I lived a sheltered life, forced to go to mass every Sunday and to do the altar boy thing for a while too. I never really got anything out of mass…ever. After I went to college, I never went to mass except when I was home and my parents made me.
The first memory I have that something wasn’t quite right was when I was about 8 or 9. I asked my mother if god had parents. My mother was friends with many priests at the school I attended and she told me to go ask the priest who taught the upper level religion classes at the high school. He told me that god did not have parents, but that he had always existed. I pressed him for details. If he wasn’t born, then how did he get there? Answer: he was just there. Rather unsatisfying, don’t you think?
By the age of 13 or 14, I remember thinking that the whole resurrection thing (and all the miracles) just didn’t seem like anything I could believe in. I never thought of calling it quits or anything, I just went through the motions to keep my parents off my back and didn’t really concern myself with thinking about religion. I continued along this path for many years, always thinking in the back of my mind that all of this religion stuff was useless and a waste of time.
I finished college, worked a few years, got married, and went to vet school. When I moved to my current home, my wife started going to church. I was having some problems with my temper due to stress and anxiety about my new job and my wife convinced me to try going to church with her. I tried really hard to get something out of mass (Episcopal), but remained bored with it and generally unimpressed with the whole scene. We joined a young adults group and went to some classes/discussion groups/etc. I found that everything they talked about (e.g. the power of prayer, the resurrection, etc) was absolute bunk. I kept looking for some kind of proof for the claims people made, but only got arguments from personal experience and arguments from authority (you know, the usual garbage). So, I stopped going.
It was during this time that I first read Carl Sagan’s wonderful book, “The Demon-Haunted World” and discovered a term for what I had been experiencing all those years without knowing it: skepticism. Suddenly, it was OK to doubt all these things I had been indoctrinated with–it was natural to do so and it was right to do so. I began reading voraciously about science, evolution, cosmology, philosophy, etc. My mind was opened like it had never been before. The more I read, the more I drifted away from my religious burden.
At this time, I was working with a woman who was very smart and science-minded, yet, oddly, 100% convinced of god’s existence and the truth of the Jesus story. We began talking about it frequently. I argued against god’s existence often. One day she asked me if I was an atheist. At first, I said no. I never thought of that as an option. Me? An atheist? No, I’m just playing devil’s advocate.
Then, I listened to “The God Delusion”, read Dennett and Harris, explored the myriad internet sites related to atheism, and started thinking. At some point about a 1.5 years ago, I accepted the fact that I am a non-believer and a non-christian and slowly introduced my wife to this new position. She’s coping with it and is (maybe) beginning to think about some of my points and (just maybe) beginning down a similar path.
So that’s it. I think deep down, I’ve been an atheist most of my life, but only recently understood it was an position I could take and still be a moral, loving, and caring human being.
Like many, I grew up in a Christian household, where a subtle "God damn" would earn me a belt across the buttocks. I was required to attend Sunday school, but eventually I became active in the church by choice. I became a leader in the youth group, was confirmed, gave liturgy, performed piano during the offertory, joined the choir, wrote and delivered a few sermons, and then bought my first Playboy after one youth group meeting when I turned 18. Of course I repented for that, taking an interest in slapping myself with a belt to cause pain like the monks I yearned to become. I also maniacally asked for Jesus to come into my heart and forgive me of my sins of the flesh. (At one religious weekend retreat I accepted Jesus in my heart a record five times!)
Though I eventually I earned a degree in physics at a major university, I never questioned my faith, yet I didn't remain active in the church. I would return home from college and attend church with my family, however, reveling in the complements of all the congregates who had watched me grow into a "handsome and intelligent man." Of course, no one knew — not even myself — that I had developed a bad and expensive addiction to pornography.
Having grown up in an alcoholic family I had become exceptionally good at keeping secrets. It wasn't until after my second year of marriage that I finally came clean to myself and my wife that I had a serious problem. So began my journey in a 12-step program with the first step: admit to my higher power that I am powerless over my addiction, and that my life had become unmanageable. Committed to overcoming my addiction, and earning back the trust and respect of my wife, I became devoted to doing the program. I wanted to get the most out of every step. I knew my life had become unmanageable, but what was my higher power?
I tried Christianity again, and was spiritually charged by attending a few charismatic services at an AME church; but something wasn't right. I felt extremely narcissistic asking the creator of the universe to help me; I was also disgusted by thought of evangelism and the lack of respect Christians have for other cultures. Through travels around the world, and earning further scientific degrees, I had also developed a significant amount of respect for the diversity of ideas, and the importance of proper, rational thinking. Over several months of deep thought and conversation with other members of my 12-step program, I was utterly unconvinced by any "evidence" of a creator, let alone the lamb of the Bible. One man in my group — a catholic Cowboy — told me with his eyes just hidden by the brim of his hat that Science has proven beyond the shadow of a doubt that God exists with high probability. He loaned me some books, after which I developed a severe allergy to anyone who has the hubris to use probability theory when they do not know its basic axioms.
I find it extremely ironic that it was at the lowest point in my life that I rejected any and every notion of a sky god, as well as the empty "hope" for an everlasting life free of dysfunction. Since beginning my program and becoming an active atheist in my community, I have acquired nearly two years of sobriety, and have been rewarded professionally and academically beyond my wildest expectations. I have completely regained hope in my future, my confidence and self-esteem are at the highest they have ever been, and I have regained the trust of my wife and found our strength together has increased exponentially. And all of this I swear I have done without signing a pact with Mephistopheles.
In short, I have become the human being I have always strived to become, and am more confident now that I can be the father that I have always wanted to be. The dysfunction stops with me. Oh, and my higher power? The relationship between my wife and I, which I know exists with probability one.
Like many, I grew up in a Christian household, where a subtle “God damn” would earn me a belt across the buttocks. I was required to attend Sunday school, but eventually I became active in the church by choice. I became a leader in the youth group, was confirmed, gave liturgy, performed piano during the offertory, joined the choir, wrote and delivered a few sermons, and then bought my first Playboy after one youth group meeting when I turned 18. Of course I repented for that, taking an interest in slapping myself with a belt to cause pain like the monks I yearned to become. I also maniacally asked for Jesus to come into my heart and forgive me of my sins of the flesh. (At one religious weekend retreat I accepted Jesus in my heart a record five times!)
Though I eventually I earned a degree in physics at a major university, I never questioned my faith, yet I didn’t remain active in the church. I would return home from college and attend church with my family, however, reveling in the complements of all the congregates who had watched me grow into a “handsome and intelligent man.” Of course, no one knew — not even myself — that I had developed a bad and expensive addiction to pornography.
Having grown up in an alcoholic family I had become exceptionally good at keeping secrets. It wasn’t until after my second year of marriage that I finally came clean to myself and my wife that I had a serious problem. So began my journey in a 12-step program with the first step: admit to my higher power that I am powerless over my addiction, and that my life had become unmanageable. Committed to overcoming my addiction, and earning back the trust and respect of my wife, I became devoted to doing the program. I wanted to get the most out of every step. I knew my life had become unmanageable, but what was my higher power?
I tried Christianity again, and was spiritually charged by attending a few charismatic services at an AME church; but something wasn’t right. I felt extremely narcissistic asking the creator of the universe to help me; I was also disgusted by thought of evangelism and the lack of respect Christians have for other cultures. Through travels around the world, and earning further scientific degrees, I had also developed a significant amount of respect for the diversity of ideas, and the importance of proper, rational thinking. Over several months of deep thought and conversation with other members of my 12-step program, I was utterly unconvinced by any “evidence” of a creator, let alone the lamb of the Bible. One man in my group — a catholic Cowboy — told me with his eyes just hidden by the brim of his hat that Science has proven beyond the shadow of a doubt that God exists with high probability. He loaned me some books, after which I developed a severe allergy to anyone who has the hubris to use probability theory when they do not know its basic axioms.
I find it extremely ironic that it was at the lowest point in my life that I rejected any and every notion of a sky god, as well as the empty “hope” for an everlasting life free of dysfunction. Since beginning my program and becoming an active atheist in my community, I have acquired nearly two years of sobriety, and have been rewarded professionally and academically beyond my wildest expectations. I have completely regained hope in my future, my confidence and self-esteem are at the highest they have ever been, and I have regained the trust of my wife and found our strength together has increased exponentially. And all of this I swear I have done without signing a pact with Mephistopheles.
In short, I have become the human being I have always strived to become, and am more confident now that I can be the father that I have always wanted to be. The dysfunction stops with me. Oh, and my higher power? The relationship between my wife and I, which I know exists with probability one.