John Sconz
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 an
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 my travels around
the world, and earning further scientific degrees, I had also
developed a significant amount of respect for a 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 Satan. In short, I have become the human being I have always
wanted to become, and am more confident now that I can be the best
father I can imagine. The dysfunction stops with me. Oh, and my higher
power? The relationship between my wife and I, which I know exists
with probability one.
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