Are you okay? Are you questioning
your faith? I saw your post and I’m worried about you.
Those are a few of the messages I’ve
gotten recently from friends and family alarmed by my recent IG story post
about evolution and atheism. I know these questions come from a place of
genuine concern and there was no way to adequately answer those questions via a
text or IG post. I realize the gravity of what I am saying and trying to respond
to those texts made me decide to sit down and write it out. I am doing this for
myself as much as for the people who are trying to understand me. This could be
a long one…
To really understand how I have
moved across the religious spectrum from my parent’s religious beliefs in the
Lutheran Church to Presbyterian to Anabaptist to Omnist to Agnostic to Atheist.
It is quite a change and the only way the end result makes sense is to go back
and start from the very beginning.
A large percent of my childhood
memories involve church. I remember Sunday mornings – often involving the smell
of McDonald’s Egg McMuffins – in my nicest clothes. I remember sitting in the sanctuary
and looking at the details of every stained-glass window, every arched beam, the
altar, the pulpit, the fans whirling lazily in circles. I remember learning how
to follow along in the complicated hymnals – usually singing songs that I didn’t
understand. I remember listening to the pastor drone on and on about passages
that didn’t make sense to me. I remember praying prayers and wondering why I
always felt like a prayer fraud. If I were to trace my evolution to atheism,
this forced, dictated prayer was where my first questions and doubts came from.
I can clearly remember the inner dialogue that went on in my head during prayer
time. I remember chastising myself for my thoughts wandering or for just going
through my wish list (I genuinely believed that that was how God worked because
there was always a portion of prayer time where the pastor named all those who
were suffering in the congregation. We prayed for health, for employment, for
discernment, for the doctors and surgeons. We prayed with the expectation that
our God could, and perhaps would see fit to answer those prayers). I remember
wondering why I never felt like anyone was really listening to me.
I felt like everyone else must be feeling this supernatural connection when
they prayed but that if I admitted my doubts or failings that my family would
be horrified.
I think that there is an
interesting tie-in here with my understanding of my adoption and how that aspect
of my life reinforced the desire to “be part of” the only family that I knew.
What if they all had a divine connection but because I was adopted, I was not included
that divine relationship. I never consciously thought that at the time but looking
back at some of my behaviors and beliefs with the eyes of an adult, I see where
being adopted, led me to desperately want to please and be included during my youth.
But, back to the topic at hand.
After Sunday School ended, my classes for confirmation began somewhere around 6th
grade. Once a week I would head upstairs in the church office building into the
stuffy room where our pastor taught our confirmation classes. I need to mention
here that I was not a fan of our pastor at that time. He was old, grumpy, and
reeked of alcohol during classes. I have one very clear memory from those
classes. It’s not the bible verses I was required to regurgitate or the beliefs
I was told were in my best interest. Because why else would you send a child to such
a class? I know that my parents absolutely had my best interests at heart. My memory?
What stuck with me all these years? I asked him why the bible didn’t mention dinosaurs.
Why, if the bible chronicled everything from the beginning of time, did it
never mention these ferocious beasts that would have been terrifying to coexist
with. There are all sorts of fantastical tales in the old testament that made
the cut, but never once is a giant, man-eating lizard mentioned in these
stories. I was taking 6th-grade science at the time and we were studying
fossils. I was being presented with physical, scientifically soundproof that
dinosaurs existed yet never once in the Bible were they ever really mentioned.
Yes, someone will inevitably say that Isaiah 27:1 mentions Leviathan – a gliding
serpent, a monster of the sea. That’s it. One tiny sentence mentioning a creature
that could easily exist today – a giant crocodile or an anaconda. No mention of
giant beasts, or predators, of the land and air.
His response, in front of all my
peers: “How dare you to question the Word of God?” He was angry that I had the
audacity to try to understand the text I was about to publicly proclaim as
Truth. He didn’t even give me the verse from Isaiah. It took until adulthood for
me to discover that one. He shut me down. Embarrassed me. Reinforced the
already strong notion that asking questions meant I was a doubter (insert audible
gasp). I didn’t want to be the only one who didn’t get “in”… who didn’t
graduate. So, I stuffed my questions and learned my lesson. It wasn’t about
understanding it was only about believing blindly. This was around the time I
was pulling back from church. Trying week after week to get out of going and,
finally, when I was 14 or 15, I left for good. Shortly after, I went into quite
a tailspin of shitty behavior. My whole belief system had taken a hit and I
acted out. I won’t go into that, but I went dark for a while. From then until
college, I pretty much stayed out of the pews. Every once in awhile, we went
to a Christmas Eve service genuinely because I believed not going was some sort
of smite toward God. Easter was pretty much the same. I attended one church in college,
but it was super cult-like and after a few awkward encounters I quit going.
I didn’t return to church regularly
until I was pregnant with Addison. We went through hell trying to get pregnant
and then, to top it off, my pregnancy was miserable. I felt strongly that our
kids needed a church upbringing like I had. How ironic is that? I felt like my
kids needed the same uncomfortable, confusing experience that I dreaded every
week as a kid. Hindsight… Anyway. I spent half my pregnancy in bed, so church
wasn’t really happening. Then, with a newborn, church just wasn’t feasible. I know
I attended the Presbyterian church in town sporadically for a while, but I can’t
remember exactly when I really returned and started interacting more with the people
there. I volunteered in the middle school youth group. I went through the classes
and the process of becoming a church member. My babies were baptized there. I fell
into a small group that led to a friendship that was instrumental in me
really starting to look at my faith and do the work to understand it. She met
with me regularly and guided me through some really difficult life situations.
She was the first person who every actively encouraged me to ask the tough
questions and then to dig into scripture to find the answers. We talked about
dinosaurs and gaps in scripture and how we had to understand the context of the
stories in the bible to understand the meaning of verses. I attended a small
group for the first time in my life. I had never heard people discuss Jesus as
I did in that group. It made me want to understand. I was curious. I started
reading scripture. Then, when my dad died – I dove in even further. I was
desperate to answer questions I had about mortality and the idea of heaven. I
wanted to know that my dad was okay. I wanted to know that I would see him
again. I needed that. I made friends in the church. These friends were people
that I looked up to. People who I felt were “further along the path” than I
was. We had deep conversations about what it meant to follow Jesus. Then, there
was a big shake-up in the church administration and things slowly dissolved.
One of the interim pastors left and his replacement was a joke. Friends that
worked in the church started to leave and I left with them. That church went in
a direction that we didn’t agree with.
The time between when I last went
to a service at the Presbyterian church and when some friends and I started
meeting semi-regularly is kind of nebulous. I know it started around the time
of the 2016 election.
Just to be controversial, I would
honestly attribute this radical shift in my belief system to the election of
Donald Trump.
Yah. I know. I am going to do my
best to leave politics out of this post because that is a WHOLE other topic
with its own set of bunny trails. I’m going to try to avoid those trails as best
I can.
So how did Donald Trump make me an
atheist?
Right around the time of the
election, some friends that I had made in the church and I started our own “tiny
church”. We fell into an online sermon from a church in Canada that we really
resonated with. The Meeting House was our primary source of sermons and questions
that we discussed in our group. We started grappling with societal issues – privilege,
racism, feminism among them. The Meeting House is an Anabaptist Church. Anabaptists
are on the same branch of Christianity as Quakers and Mennonites. In a
nutshell, Anabaptists focus on the written words of Jesus and the message that
he was trying to send. It spends far less time rooting around in Old Testament
texts. The lead pastor, Bruxy, is an excellent speaker. His teachings were so
accessible and so relatable that I really looked forward to church in a way
that I never had in organized (what we called capital “C” Church) church. The
members of our small group were intelligent, intellectual, educated humans. It
was the perfect version of church for me for a season. As we moved through the
sermons, we also followed politics with a wary eye. We talked about trends we
were seeing in society and in the people, we thought we knew so well. I started
reading about white privilege. I started listening to podcasts about racism. I
started paying attention to what people were saying. This same time period is
also when I taught 7th grade Ancient Civilizations. I’m a nerd by
trade. I wanted to know everything about everything. Buddhism fascinated me.
The overlap between Islam, Judaism, and Christianity ran deeper than I had ever
learned in church. We spent a month each spring diving into each of the eight
major world religions. Each year that I taught the class we dove a little deeper.
I found new materials, videos, and sources. It was amazing. One of the biggest
takeaways from teaching that class was my understanding that all of the world
religions were trying to do the exact same questions. Where did we come from?
Why are we here? What happens next? Each religion shares the same basic beliefs.
God is love.
As I taught about the major world
religions, I started re-evaluating my own beliefs. One of the first concepts
that grabbed me was the overlap of creation stories that the Bible shares with
world religions around the globe. Early people had questions too, but they
lacked the science and knowledge to understand the answers. They couldn’t comprehend
the cause of thunder and lightning, so they attributed the storms to the gods.
As we look back at natural disasters and natural phenomena throughout history,
almost every early polytheistic religion attributed a different god to each
natural event. As humans learned more about the world and our place in it, some
of these previously unexplained events suddenly had a logical, and more importantly,
scientifically-backed, explanation. When we study the ancient Greeks, Egyptians,
and Romans we see polytheistic religions with gods for everything from
fertility to war to famine. We look back on these ancient civilizations and
shake our heads that they could believe something so silly. Of course, there isn’t
a god for famine, there is just GOD. Silly Egyptians. But stop for a second and
try to think objectively about some of the Jesus stories in the bible. I fully
believe that future humans will look back at modern religions the same way we
look at the Romans and Greeks. Silly Christians believing that the world was
made in 6 days or that Adam and Eve actually existed (fun fact: they didn’t.
Genesis is a creation myth. Just like every other early religion, Christianity
has a farfetched story about how the world and everything in it came to be. I’m
not going to go into all the ways that science and history have disproved the reliability
of the bible, I’d recommend listening to one of Richard Dawkins books for an
intro to that. He’s far more articulate and educated than I and he will do a better
job explaining it. But the historical inaccuracies are huge. King David is NEVER
mentioned outside of the bible. The whole lineage of Jesus is based on Joseph’s
link to King David (which make no sense, since Joseph allegedly wasn’t Jesus’s
father). But if King David didn’t exist, then Jesus doesn’t fulfill the Old
Testament prophecies. The plagues of Egypt aren’t mentioned anywhere in Egyptian
history – especially the death of the firstborns. If there was an event where
every firstborn son in Egypt died in one night, it would have been recorded SOMEWHERE.
But it’s not. Add to that, the bible wasn’t written until hundreds of years
after Jesus’s life. That means for hundreds of years, these stories were passed
down orally. Anyone who played the game “telephone” at a slumber party knows
what happens when stories are told and retold. The end product is very rarely
an accurate representation of what the original story was. I’m going to stop
there but honesty, Richard Dawkins is a great source if you want to learn more about
the inconsistencies that Christians never question. I honestly used to believe
that Adam and Eve were real people for a long time. They most definitely weren’t.
If they didn’t exist, then original sin can’t exist because Eve wasn’t there to
ruin it for everyone. Once you start looking at it objectively, Christianity
just doesn’t make sense.
Back to Tiny Church and anabaptist
beliefs… Doing the work through The Meeting House of looking at the words of
Jesus led to a lot of discussions about pacifism and pacifist beliefs. At the
start of this discussion, I was definitely on the “defend my turf” bandwagon.
Someone hurts you, you hurt them bigger and badder (intentionally poor grammar).
When you look at the words of Jesus, it’s pretty easy to see that he was a
pacifist and how he demonstrated pacifist beliefs right up until going to die
willingly on the cross. It was a hard sell for me but by the time we had gotten
through Bruxy’s sermon series on pacifism, I realized that that was the most
basic and simple thing that Jesus asked of us. Love one another. Be kind. Don’t
hurt people intentionally. You can’t do those things with a gun in your hand. I’m
still working out what pacifism means to me. It is an evolving belief that I’m
still getting to know. Pacifism also means seeking peace in your relationships,
not just practicing non-violence. I can feel a huge change from how I used to
view interpersonal relationships and conflict before to how I view it now. I
used to see every interaction as “me versus them”. Every interaction had a
winner and a loser and I am highly competitive, so I wanted to be the winner
all of the time. It led to arguments in my marriage because I tried to “win”
against my husband. When I started looking at maintaining peace, I learned to
choose my arguments, to evaluate what I do and don’t want to say, and to
swallow my pride when I can. I learned to see my family and friends as on “my
team” and not as opponents. It changed how I talked to myself in my own head.
It’s one of the changes that I’m most grateful for because it has helped me
navigate Addison’s blow-ups. I’m imperfect though – I still lose my temper and
say things I don’t mean. But pacifism forces me to get real and apologize. It’s
pretty humbling to have to apologize to your 10-year-old for losing your mind.
Since the 2016 election, my interest
and awareness of societal issues and inequalities have steadily increased. We
did a lot of work in Tiny Church around recognizing the privilege that we all
had as white, middle class, highly educated humans and how that privilege had led
us to be complacent in systemic racism. It was hard work, but we wanted to
understand how we could use the privilege we had to raise awareness or affect
change in some way. We discussed MAGAs and how we couldn’t see any period in American
history as “great” by any definition of the word. The “great” periods people
talked about weren’t ever really great at all. Slavery? Segregation? War?
Corruption? Prohibition? Great Depression? Westward Expansion? None of these periods
were great. Some were downright awful. The more we discussed our nations ugly
history and how our nation is ugly today, the less proud I was to be “American”. I saw how I had been trained by society to be
blindly allegiant to our flag. To pledge that allegiance before we even
understood what that meant. To hang our flags on the front porch and wear red,
white, and blue on the 4th of July. To accept our history at the
face value of our biased textbooks. To believe that “God blessed America” when
America didn’t exist when God was doing the supposed blessing. No thank you. I
cringe when I watch interviews with Trump Rally go-ers. I don’t want to be in
any way associated with those people. I’m not proud of our nation at any point in
history. I don’t recite the pledge of allegiance when I sub. I don’t sing the
national anthem or put my hand on my heart. I stand respectively to set a good
example. In public, I wouldn’t bother. It just doesn’t matter to me anymore.
Being American isn’t relevant just like being Australian isn’t relevant. There
is no genetic or biological difference between any race. The color of our skin
is simply based on how much sun our ancestors got. More sun means more melanin.
More melanin means darker skin. Go team evolution. That’s it. So, I’m a human.
That’s it.
Just like the term American, “Christian”
has an ugly connotation among non-believers or those of other non-Christian
religions. Christians are judgmental. They’re hypocrites. More wars have been
fought in the name of Christianity than of any other religion. That’s right,
those who follow the Jesus of non-violence have murdered more people in the
name of that God than ANY other world religion. That’s gross. But then I
started reading articles about white evangelicals who fervently support Trump
and turn a blind eye and his repeated, unapologetic transgressions (admitted adultery,
25 allegations of sexual assault, bragging about sexually assaulting women, literally
thousands of proven lies to the media, the list goes on and on). To try and
tell me that Jesus would be a Trump supporter is like telling me Gandhi was in
the MMA. It goes against literally everything he taught. If Christianity is the
religion of Trump, then I knew I definitely didn’t want to be a part of that
club. I joke that Trump made me an atheist but, in some ways, he did help.
I wanted to understand government
and to try to get a better understanding of what the history of our whole
nation really was. We know what it was like for the white elites, their stories
are the ones that made it into the history books. But what about the experience
of immigrants? Orphans? Women? The poor? There is so much that we DON’T know about
these groups. So, I started reading. I started listening to podcasts. I
followed activists on social media. I watched videos. I did the same with
evolution and astrophysics. This process of learning has taken place slowly,
and privately for the most part, for the past two years. I have been moving by
small degrees across the spectrum from anabaptist, where my beliefs were at at
the start of this process, to omnist. From omnist to agnostic. And finally, I
think, to tentative atheist. I’d like to believe in God but I think that the likelihood
that of all of the thousands of gods who have been worshipped throughout the
years, that the Christian God is the “winner”, is pretty low. What I believe
now, I think, is just as beautiful as the idea of a benevolent god. I believe in
matter. The atoms that make us up are only created when a star explodes. We are
literally made of star-stuff (that is also my next tattoo theme). How fucking
beautiful is that?? And what else, matter never goes away, it never dies. Parts
of me have existed in a million different forms over billions of years. And,
parts of me will live on, in different forms, for billions of years more. When
I die, I want my ashes sent into space. I want to be in the heavens, not in Heaven.
I know that could be upsetting to people who believe in the Christian God. I’m
not trying to be offensive – I really do find it beautiful and kind of awe
inspiring.
So why share this? I could have
kept quiet and just silently made the transition without those around me really
noticing at all. I could just let people maintain the assumption of my Christian
beliefs and avoid some potentially upsetting conversations. But then I realized
that if I did that, it was only to make the people around me comfortable. The
internet has been a blessing in this regard. I have had the chance to talk to so
many different people around the world who are atheists and learned that there
are so many out there. Remember back to the beginning of this dissertation, my
earliest memory of the church involves being chastised for asking questions,
for doubting. I was terrified to talk about this with almost all of the humans
in my life, save one or two. Anyone who has made the move from religion to
non-religion will be able to attest, it is hard to unpack all the dogma and
superstition that you inherit as a part of organized religion. It’s hard to
navigate holidays like Christmas and Easter. It’s hard to know how to talk to people
about it or how to handle it when they get upset. But it’s hard because no
one talks about it. So here I am, talking about it. Maybe me writing this will
make it easier for someone else to bring to light concerns or questions they
have or encourage someone else to read a book on a topic they hadn’t considered
before. Maybe it won’t do anything. I don’t know. What I do know, is that for
the first time in my life, I think I’m onto the truth.
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