God is a sick bastard

By Lizabeth ~

I currently have the cold and am in bed. I have, therefore, taken this opportunity to finally tell my story.

I have been lurking around this website ever since I became an ex-Christian which was about 5 months ago. I find it hard to believe that it has been so long. At the same time I find it hard to believe how much I have changed in such a short period of time.

I am from a lovely Caribbean island which is a predominantly Christian country. I attended church from before I can even remember. I loved the idea of God. I did not, however, love my church. I did not like how I could predict what would come next in the church service as it followed the Book of Common Prayer. I also felt out of place at Sunday School. Perhaps I was a little bit stuck up but I thought that all the other children there were only present because their parents or grandparents forced them to go. I got a sense that they hated being there. I, on the other hand,liked hearing to know more about God and how to please him. This was all before about age 10.

When I was about 11 I doubted Christianity. I had my own little private rebellion against it. I, however, still attended church as it was expected.

Then when I was 15, I was so disappointed by not being chosen to attend a leadership conference in New York that some of my friends were chosen to attend. I cried out to God that I was tired of not getting what I want and that I wanted to have the most important thing in my life (which was him). Ha!

I can now see that the reason for me turning to God was because I was selfish. I still am selfish and I am not ashamed of it anymore. I thought that by siding with God he would give me whatever I wanted. That was the basis of our relationship! My wishlist! I only understand that now that I'm not a Christian anymore. How could I have been so blind?

When I became a 'born-again Christian' I realised that I wanted a new church. I was baptised and raised as an Anglican. When I hit puberty, women at church started telling me things like my skirt wasn't long enough, I couldn't wear spaghetti-strap dresses and that I "cocked" my ass back to make it more conspicuous! I was about 13-14, my hips were big, and all of my dresses were hand-me-downs from a relative.

Furthermore, older women in the church were wearing styles like mine but I didn't see them being harassed about it.

I left for a Pentecostal church. I loved it -(most of it anyways). It was more upbeat and no one told me off about my clothes.

Fast-forward a few years and I did well enough in my exams that by age 18 I got a scholarship that paid for my first degree at any university of my choice. I chose to study medicine in England.

I came to this country realising how different it was to home especially in the religion department. I had discussions with my atheist/ agnostic housemates about Christianity. Their questions were good! I was scared. I joined the university's Christian Union and the first church I could find which reminded me of my old one. I got baptised in -7 degrees Celsius, snowing England. I just wanted to find a safe place in a country that was so unlike my own.

My boyfriend and I met at the Christian Union at university. In retrospect I find this quite hilarious. I'm black. He's white. After a few dates I told my parents about him. They were shocked. They could not understand why I would want a relationship with a British white boy.

I think I was more shocked than they were. I was definitely hurt! I knew my mother would dislike it. She has always been vocal about her wishes for me not to be with a non-Black man. But my father? He has acquaintances who are white (while my mother doesn't)and I didn't expect him to react the way he did. He asked me if I was attracted to my boyfriend! What an odd question to ask!

Anyways, because of my parents I broke up with this guy. I really really liked him, but you know what the Bible says:

Children, obey your parents in the Lord, for this is right. "Honor your father and mother" (this is the first commandment with a promise), "that it may go well with you and that you may live long in the land."
- Ephesians 6: 1 -3


We still liked each other so we would still talk. We deleted each others mobile numbers and then we would talk on Facebook. We unfriended each other on Facebook and then we would talk on Skype. We deleted each other on Skype and then we would send each other mail in the post. The more I insisted that we should stop because I wanted to obey God, the more heartbroken I felt about the loss of what I thought would be a great relationship.

After a few 'break-ups' we inevitably got back together. And this is how it started. The sexual attraction that we had for each other got the better of us. No, we did not have sex but we frottaged. I had never even heard of this concept until we decided to search online for what we were doing.

I felt awful! Jesus was not proud of me. God could not love me anymore. I needed to break up with my boyfriend. And I did. I wanted to love God again with all of my heart and soul as the bible said:

He answered: "'Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind'; and, 'Love your neighbor as yourself.'"
Luke 10: 27 (NIV)


We went through numerous break-ups due to us being from different worlds and most importantly because God did not want us to do the whole dry sex thing. But we always ended up back together.

This was the start of the unraveling of the Christian myth. I could not possibly judge those 'fornicators' who were having premarital sex when I was almost doing the same.

Then there was the homosexual thing. In my country, practising homosexuality is against the law. The only gay friend I had back home was trying to hide it in Christianity. In England, I have so many gay friends. How can it be wrong for them to love the people of the same sex in that way?

Also I now have so many friends who are not Christians. They are so nice and caring. Why would God possibly send them to hell unless he was a sick bastard?

So a few months ago, I told God that he was precisely that - a sick bastard! And that there was no way in hell (no pun intended) that he was going to be sending all of my lovely friends to a lake of fire and brimstone because they chose not to follow him. He would have to step through me first.

Now I know that if there was such a thing as an omnipotent God that I wouldn't be able to stop him from doing a thing. However, my feelings were so strong that I realised that I wasn't a Christian anymore.

What a sobering thought.

The hardest part was to stop praying.

I have only told my boyfriend and one other friend who is agnostic. My boyfriend was a Christian at the time but since I told him about my deconversion he has thought things through and has decided that he is not a Christian anymore either. I am very glad that I am not going through this alone but with someone who understands what my beliefs used to be.

All of my close family and friends back home are Christian. My parents still don't know that I'm seeing the same white guy. I plan on telling them soon as it's been about two years of secrecy.

I feel as though such a big portion of my life is a secret - my boyfriend and my disbelief in any God.

I don't think I'll ever be able to tell my parents about it. Not for now at least. I feel as though I have to prove to them that I can be a nice, caring member of society while still not being a Christian. This will take me years to prove as I want there to be no doubt in their mind that the daughter they used to know has the same personality.

My mother has an inkling of the truth. When I went back home she begged me to teach at Vacation Bible School like I did last year. When I told her no she asked me to pray about it. When I said I did (which of course I did not) we had a big hour-long discussion about my reasons! It would have been a good time to tell her that I was no longer a Christian but I choose to wait. I also went to church less often and did not initiate devotions with her as I usually would. I fear that when my parents visit me in England this Christmas that they will find out.

So I have these questions for the ex-Christian community:

1. How long did it take for you to tell your parents?

I'm 20 years old and in my 3rd year of med school. I don't think they see me as a woman yet and that's part of the reason for me waiting.

2. When you told your Christian friends, were they understanding?

I imagine that my British ones will be, but the ones from back home might just tell everyone and shun me.

3. Do you think its wise for me to go to my old church with my parents on Christmas day considering that I haven't been there in 5 months? Or should I go to another one?

I'm thinking that they'll want to see the one I used to regularly attend but I don't want people to be surprised to see me after so long.

Thank you so much for reading this. It was more lengthy than I had intended. Perhaps I will write other posts in the future (and hopefully when I'm not sick!)

Christianity : it is all about money and power

How much suffering the Catholic Church has to put on all those
Filipino ? The country was tear apart by over population. Kids have
nothing to eat. Did the Catholic Church care about God ? No !!! They
only want power !!!

Philippine Catholics protest proposed birth control law

(AFP) – 1 day ago

MANILA — Philippine nuns and priests led thousands of Catholics in a
protest in Manila Saturday against a proposed law that would provide
free contraceptives in a bid to curb population growth.

The protesters, mainly dressed in red, gathered at a Catholic shrine
to voice opposition to the planned legislation, which would also
encourage families to have only two children in an effort to reduce
poverty.

The proposal, which is expected to face a tough time getting through
parliament, has angered the influential Roman Catholic Church in the
Philippines which has led opposition and called Saturday's protest.

Dolly Cruz, a 61-year-old pensioner, attacked the proposal as
"contrary to the laws of God".

"God gave humans the power of reason to decide what is right and what
is wrong for themselves," she said. Police estimated the crowd at
about 7,000.

President Benigno Aquino has strongly backed the law, saying in a
statement before the rally that in a situation where couples "are in
no position to make an informed judgement, the state has the
responsibility to so provide".

The Philippines annual birth rate has been steadily declining, but the
government points out that some of the poorest regions have the
highest rates.

The law would use a government health insurance fund to provide birth
control pills, condoms and other contraceptives for free.

It would give the poor preferential access to family planning services
in state hospitals, while lessons on family planning and sex education
would become compulsory in schools and for couples applying for a
marriage licence.

The House of Representatives, dominated by Aquino supporters, is
expected to pass the bill on Tuesday after failing to do so last year.

But the Senate, parliament's upper house, must also pass the law and
has come out strongly against it.

Both abortion and divorce remain illegal in the predominantly Catholic
Philippines.

God and good deeds

By Sherlock ~

Two weeks back I got myself into a somewhat heated discussion
regarding prayer which eventually led to the discussion of God. It
started when a friend posted, "Thanks God for the rain I don't need to
water the plants today" on her wall. I wanted to comment right then
but I figured out, "What's the point?" So I just let it go. But a few
days later, I posted "Self-centered prayer vs. Collective thinking
prayer: Thanks God for the rain I don't need to water the plants today
vs. Thanks God for the rain the plants are happy today". This post
didn't get any comments but it got 2 likes.

Anyway, a day or two days later I read, somewhere among the comments
of my friend's post, something like "God is always good because He
never fails to answer the prayer of her humble child." (These are not
the exact words because she has deleted that particular post on her
wall.) So I couldn't help myself not to comment anymore. So I replied,
"It's just rainy season. Prayer has nothing to do with it. Pray for
rain in summer and let us see if God hears your prayer". She got
angry, I knew for she replied, "You can say whatever you want because
you don't believe in prayer. You don't have God". And so the
discussion went on and on. And during the discussion I remember asking
her, "Are you not bothered about the millions of people outside your
world whose prayer are not being heard or answered?" She just replied,
"I know my God and He never fails me." Well, what can I say? So to
make the story short, that discussion ended amicably...superficially,
I think. She ended up praying for me to let Jesus in to my heart and
accept Him as my savior. I wanted to answer, "I did once but I found
my heart empty and I figured out I didn't need saving, I'll save
myself" but I just said, "Sure!" and she "liked" it immediately. The
end.

Now, four days back, while browsing at her profile, (I unsubscribed to
her wall posts because all of them are just about god, god, god) I
found this:

"I couldn't help but be amazed at how people assume to know too
much about you. They don't know you and they throw questions as if you
don't care. Are you not bothered about the millions of people
suffering whose prayers are not answered is a question of foolishness!
How many of your FB friends know the real you, huh? It is one thing to
get bothered and or to be concerned, but it's another thing to
ACTUALLY DO something about it. How many of your FB friends know the
rape victims you've helped and whose children you adopted? How many of
these creeps know the out-of-school youths you sent to school and
colleges so they could be properly equipped to face life? How about
the those cancer patients children whom you bridged to those who can
financially support? And the street children in Timog Ave. that you
sent to DSWD to get proper help. And the times you spent teaching for
free to those children whose parents are not capable of sending them
to school? How about the AIDS victim that was disowned by her own
parents but you took her in your arms until she died? How many
pregnant women who were refused a ride by taxis that you let in your
car and drive them to the hospitals even if you have exams to catch?

Let's go to Kochi: how many kids are there in the orphanage you
and your husband run? how about the old-age house where ungrateful
children put their parents into? The list goes on because you are not
just bothered, you do things and BE the ANSWER to their prayers. Why
do you do these things, I asked (remember, i asked you before?). And
you answered: "It is not me. It's the Lord who gives me the desire to
help and who empowers me to act on those desire according to his
pleasure. The Lord has blessed me in every way, I have to share it to
others. There is no other way." Yes, I still remember this because you
got my respect, even my family. You are among the few who just don't
get bothered and sit. You act on it."


I think her best friend wrote that to her wall. For a while I was
tempted to butt in because I know that message is referring to me,
about the discussion I had with her the previous days but I guess I'm
already tired to get involved in another endless arguments of reason
versus no reason.

But I actually draft a reply to this post. Here it is.

(For her)

I know this post very well, to whom it is for. It is for me
because I am the only friend on your list who dared to question your
beliefs. I am the only who doesn't say yes to everything you say. I
may not know everything about you, about the all charitable works you
have done or been doing but I certainly know that there are so many
people like you out there doing the same things you do, and/or even
more. I admire people who act, who help the needy the best way they
can. But do you know the difference between your motivation and their
motivation to do all these things? Many of these people don't have a
God that inspires them to do good deeds. That's the big difference!
And since it is God that inspires you, will you still have the desire
to help the less fortunate if there is no God?


(For the best friend)

Not acting or not doing does not always mean not helping. A person
has not adopted any orphans in her life but she chose to be
child-free. She chose not to create children of her own. She is not
contributing/adding to the world's population. Is she not helping?


A person does not help campaigning against AIDS but he/she practices
safe sex. He/She doesn't have multiple partners. Is he/she not
helping?

Teaching kids for free is very admirable. But what you are teaching is
also very important. How about teaching the parents themselves? How
about knocking their heads off and try to make them listen to, "How
dare you breed when you couldn't even give your children a proper
education?" Is addressing this issue not important?

Those are the only answers I could think right now. If you were me,
should you have replied? How would you address that post?

I know that there is nothing wrong with having an inspiration to do
good things but why only God? One could at least draw inspiration from
a Teddy Bear or someone who has really lived and made a difference.
Why God?

I also know that we don't need God to do good deeds or to be kind to
other people and to the other creatures whom we share this planet
with.

(Timog Ave. is in Manila, Philippines)

Finding my own way - former Methodist

By Monica ~

I was raised Christian (Methodist) my entire life. My extended family
is crazy conservative and deep in their faiths, and my immediate
family are all definitely believers, just not as intense. As a kid, I
whole heartedly believed it because that's what I was taught and I
wasn't old enough to have an opinion. It was just like any other
subject. I didn't question reading or math, because I was just a kid,
and I did what I was told. So Christianity was just a way of life for
me, and that was that.

I started going to summer camps the summer after third grade, and
that's probably where I noticed that I was the less than emotional
Christian. Yeah, I believed because I was told to, but even still, I
didn't feel the need to raise my hands up during songs or cry during
the end-of-camp communion service. I tried, really. I wanted to fit
in. But it just wasn't me.

In eighth grade history class, we learned about all kinds of different
cultures and religions, and I just got to thinking... what the heck
makes Christianity any different than other religions? We look at them
thinking "they're going to hell if they don't convert, because we are
the only true way to heaven." Yet they look at us and think the exact
same thing. I kept thinking, why would God pick just us, if we all
basically believe the same thing, just with different guidelines? And
that's where it all really started, and I never, ever felt right about
my "faith" after that.

Around that time, I started really disliking church. My family went to
the traditional service, and it always seemed like everybody was just
going through the motions. Motionlessly sing 5 hymns (yes, we have a
crazy choir director who thinks church is some big production), listen
to the scripture without reading along in the bible, and nod off
during the sermon. The best part of church was going out to lunch
afterward. And this wasn't just me! That's just how my church worked.
There was never anything special to it, and that caused my whole
religious experience to never have anything special.

I'm 20 now and only just now deciding to officially renounce
Christianity. But for 6 years now I've struggled hard with those
questions from eighth grade. I kept going back and forth, wondering if
I was an atheist and I was completely disturbed that I might be. It's
hard to get the basic rules of life that you've been taught your whole
life out of your head, so even if I supposedly didn't believe in God,
part of me always would, and would always think I was going to hell
for not believing. Confusing, isn't it? This is what religion does to
people.

I went to college and found myself a nice, Christian campus ministry
so that I could make friends and connections. Non-denominational, so
they were a little bit liberal. But even still, I didn't like going to
bible study. I loved hanging out, until somebody brought up Jesus. It
just wasn't all there for me, but I did what I had to do to make
friends and have a good college experience. This worked until these so
called Christians stopped talking to me after they all got their own
cars and didn't need me to chauffeur them around. Real good religion,
isn't it? But this is typical of most all the Christians I know.

I realized that I didn't have to be an atheist or a Christian. I can
be my own thing.So anyway, I struggled with this for years until last
spring when my then-boyfriend (who's borderline atheist, but like me,
won't admit it to himself) and I were sitting on the porch talking
about our beliefs and I kind of had a revelation. I realized that I
didn't have to be an atheist or a Christian. I can be my own thing.
That's what Christianity doesn't teach you. They tell you that if you
aren't a Christian, or part of some other sinner religion, you're one
of those evil atheists and you're going to hell. So once I looked at
the religion from an outside view, I realized I didn't have to pick. I
was raised believing in God and that's what I want to do! I don't have
to get emotional about it - hell, I don't even have to worship him,
because I believe that a real, true, loving god wouldn't want you to
worship him. But I still believe he exists and he created the
universe; however, that doesn't mean I have to believe in the bible.

Suddenly, everything felt so right. Like this was what I'd been
feeling my whole life, but I was too afraid to really feel it. But I
don't feel bad. I don't feel like I'm going to hell. Because I really,
truly believe that there is not a hell. I mean, what kind of loving,
merciful god would send his own creation to eternal damnation?? And
after I realized that, all these opinions started flowing. I realized
that I can dislike the bible without being a bad Christian (or should
I say God-believer, since I'm not really a Christian). I can make my
own beliefs!

And that's the thing about religion. Everyone has different opinions.
It comes with being human. So how can you create a couple of religions
and just ask people to pick? There is no way you can satisfy every
type of person, and that's why so many churches don't. There is such a
close-mindedness to Christianity that the churches keep pushing more
and more people away.

I still haven't told my family, though. Even though I'm not an
atheist, they'd still think down upon my not believing in the bible.
The closest I've come to disclosing my beliefs are "I'm kind of a
liberal Christian - I think that as long as you believe in something,
you'll go to heaven." I told my ex-boyfriend, and I told my best
friend, both who feel roughly the same way, maybe even a little more
extreme. But I still go to church when I'm home from school, because
my parents make me. I still do things to help out, like teach at
vacation bible school, because being raised in the church, I still
have good morals and can't say no. And yes, when I go back to school,
I plan on going to the Wesley Foundation to make some new friends. I'm
going to try other clubs, but I need a back up in case I don't
immediately hit it off with people there. And everyone here in the
south is Christian, so it doesn't really matter if I meet them in a
Christian club or a regular one. They'll all be the same. So needless
to say, I'm a closet ex-Christian. But I'm working on it. Chances are
I'll get fed up with the Wesley and just hang out with a few choice
friends. But either way, this is me, attempting to swim out of the
raging whirlpool that is Christianity.

wasted years on religion

By Megizzle ~


My parents divorced when I was 5 and my brother was 1, and we moved
from the country to the city with our mother while our father stayed
behind. Our mother would tell you she was a Christian if you asked
her, but we never went to church or talked about Jesus much. She
worked two jobs and went to night school to learn to use computers,
helped with homework, read us bedtime stories, patiently answered our
endless questions, and encouraged us to read often and think
independently.

Our dad, on the other hand, was a complete religious fanatic, control
freak, and hypocrite. Every other weekend, he would make the 175-mile
drive to the city to pick us up, and we'd be subjected to a 2 1/2-hour
drive in his cramped little pickup truck with Christian rock music
blasting at full volume while he blared his horn at slower-moving
vehicles (saving his middle finger and his F*** YOUs for those who
honked back), tailgated and swerved maniacally through traffic at top
speed, and, on one unforgettable occasion, rolled down his window and
pointed his handgun at a man who was committing the cardinal sin of
doing 65 in the fast lane (this ultimately resulted in us telling our
mother, and our dad spending a week in jail). During our drives, Dad
would also frequently startle/scare us with sudden, random, painfully
loud screams and war-whoops, which he attributed, wild-eyed, to his
being "ON FIRE FOR THE LORD!" (My brother and I privately imitated and
giggled helplessly over these ridiculous displays of religious
fervor.)

Once we reached his little place in the country, we generally spent
most of Saturday doing intensive Bible study (I knew who St.
Augustine, Thomas Aquinas, John Calvin, and Martin Luther were before
I hit third grade) followed by a rousing game of Bible Trivia (groan);
the next day, we'd get up at the crack of dawn to get ready for church
(which was *only* 40 miles away). We participated in Sunday school and
Children's Bible Study, and went on church outings to "share the
Gospel" with people in poor neighborhoods. We were always anxious
about going to Dad's house, not only because of the long, traumatizing
drive to and from, but also because he would frequently say
frightening and/or inappropriate things for young children to hear,
such as "Your mother is a wh***. She only lets you come with me so you
won't see her having sex with all her boyfriends."; "You know that
clicking sound you hear when you first pick up the phone? That's the
FBI listening to our conversations."; and "Your mother worships Satan.
I'll kill both of you if it means I keep her from dragging your souls
to hell with her." Our mother unintentionally alarmed us further by
(sensibly) requiring us to memorize her phone number and every address
we moved to, so that if our father ever abducted us and we were able
to get away, we could call her and/or provide the police with her
contact
information so we could get home again.

After a few years of this, my father moved to the city (he returned to
the country a couple of years later) and, unfortunately, played an
even more actively religious role in our daily lives since we were
physically closer to him. My mother encouraged me to join Girl Scouts
when I was 7 or 8, even scraping together enough money (we lived well
below the poverty line) to buy me a brand-new Brownie uniform, and I
happily complied only to have my father use Christianity to ruin that
for me. He was furious that our Brownie Troop met on Wednesday
evenings (which were also our "extra" church nights), and forced me to
leave the group by accusing the Girl Scouts of being a Satanic
organization which was making me choose between God and The World by
having their meetings on the same nights we were supposed to be in
church.

When he moved back to the country, we were once again forced to endure
the white-knuckle journey to and from his house. Bible studies
intensified, and we bounced from church to church as he endlessly
alienated entire congregations. Our dad was a loud, aggressive, burly,
tattooed man with a ninth-grade education who had done hard drugs for
most of his teenage years and hard manual labor for most of his life,
so he intimidated and flat-out scared a lot of people. Once, my
brother and I each invited a friend up for our weekend with Dad
(naively assuming that he would be nicer in front of company and
perhaps allow us to skip Bible study and/or church); on the contrary,
he required EXTRA Bible study and insisted that our now-captive and
reluctant audience join in, whereupon he expressed shock at their
ignorance of the Bible and the great theologians, ordered them to give
their lives to Jesus before they died and went to Hell, and pressured
them to decide whether or not they believed in predestination and the
post-tribulation rapture. On the way to church the next day, he
further alarmed them (and humiliated us) by cautioning them to watch
out for black helicopters because they were using infrared technology
to spy on us, and detailing how Bill Clinton was having people
murdered in the White House. Obviously, that was the first and last
time our friends accompanied us to visit our dad.

As I grew older, I began to pick fights with Dad (over the phone) so
I'd have justification for refusing to go with him on his
court-appointed weekends. My quieter and more easygoing brother was
still obligated to go, and on one occasion this resulted in a phone
call from him to tell me that Dad had captured a rat on a glue board
in his kitchen and spent fifteen minutes shooting it with blowdarts
before taking it outside, shooting it, and taking pictures of it. My
mother and I were both horrified and furious, and it was several
months before my brother made the trip up there again.

Despite my Dad's best efforts to show us that Christians were scary,
paranoid people who should be confined to rubber rooms, I genuinely
believed in the Bible and often read it in my spare time. One night
when I was 16, I was sitting alone at my little desk in my room and
reading the book of John. Suddenly my independent, reasoning mind
started waking up. I had a QUESTION. Uneasily, I called Dad. He might
be nuts, but he knew the Bible like the back of his hand. "Dad, Jesus
said 'I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life. No man comes to the
Father but by Me.' But He also said the Jews were His chosen people,
and Jews don't believe in Jesus. So do Jews go to Heaven or Hell?" Dad
hemmed and hawwed, he mumbled various vaguely-pertinent Bible verses,
he hesitated and false-started a few times, and then launched into
some story from the Bible that had nothing to do with my question. I
chalked it up to "He doesn't know." After I got off the phone, I went
back to my Bible and realized I had ANOTHER question! I called Dad
back. "Dad, if belief in Jesus is the only way to Heaven, what happens
to people in remote parts of the world who have lived for generations
without even knowing that an 'outside world' existed, and have never
had the opportunity to hear the Gospel? Do they die and go to Hell
just because they were born into the wrong place?" Dad did some more
hemming and hawwing, and then had an epiphany. He answered, "Well,
they can still look around at the sun and moon and stars and trees and
animals and think 'Some power greater than myself must have put all
this here', and then choose to honor and respect the Creator of
nature. Then God can work on their hearts so that they will be true
Christians in His eyes." You know how, when you hear the truth, it
just rings true in your ears and you recognize it for what it is?
That's how I felt when he said the first sentence (not the second
one). I was delighted/surprised but also puzzled, and asked "Well,
couldn't everyone just do that?" He responded that Christians are
instructed by Jesus to spread the Gospel. I said that didn't make any
sense; why should we bend over backwards to tell everyone something
they can all figure out for themselves? He said it was because we
needed to tell them the Truth before they were led astray by false
religions like Islam. I thought for a minute, then hesitatingly
observed that everyone thinks their religion is the correct one, and
asked how we could be sure that ours was right and theirs was wrong?
He explained that we know ours is right because we have God's Word
right there in our Bible; I rebutted by saying that they think they
have Allah's Word in their Quran too. Dad started getting agitated in
that way that religious people do when you start asking questions, and
asked if I was turning into an atheist. I quickly reassured him that I
was not, and the conversation ended there on an awkward note.

I spent the next few years telling myself that my questions were the
result of inadequate faith on my part, and tried to squelch and ignore
my growing doubts. When I was 19, I met a remarkably intelligent and
articulate 20-year-old fellow college student with whom I shared a
love of reading, learning, integrity, and intellectual debate...and
excellent sexual chemistry. We began dating, but the relationship was
kept secret from my father's side of the family because he was black.
I had never dated outside my race before (I had barely dated even
within my race because I simply wasn't particularly attracted to
anyone and was a bit of an intellectual elitist), but I didn't think
it was strange or unusual, although I was aware that my father hated
black people (and Hispanics, and Asians, and women, and Muslims, and
Buddhists, and Catholics, and foreigners, and democrats, and the
elderly, and everyone else who wasn't a middle-aged conservative white
Protestant male from the southern United States). We each recognized a
kindred spirit in the other and spent every waking moment together
when we weren't at work or school, arguing race relations, politics,
religion, and foreign policy (and doing other things, of course!), and
ultimately fell very much in love. Six months after we began dating,
we moved into an apartment together (as far as my father knew, I was
just getting my own place).

In an attempt to appease my Christian-upbringing-induced guilt over my
very active sex life outside of marriage, I joined a church and began
semi-regularly attending services there. The pastor and his wife
invited me to their house for dinner, as was their custom with all new
attendees, and both were impressed with my Biblical knowledge and
theological awareness; I was repeatedly invited back for dinner and
Bible-based discussion, and became something of a family friend. I was
flattered by the attention and conveniently failed to mention my
ongoing sexual indiscretion, although I felt increasingly like a
hypocritical, lying fraud for the year or so that this went on. Then I
got pregnant.

When I admitted the pregnancy to the pastor and his wife, they were
upset. When they met my boyfriend, they were horrified (the whole
interracial thing). They privately urged me to give the baby up for
adoption and abandon the relationship, which I refused to do. Neither
they nor my other church "friends" ever spoke to me again, and I
stopped attending church altogether. I knew I was wrong for having
lied to them, but I felt angry, hurt, and betrayed that *Christians*
would drop me like a hot potato for not living the perfect Christian
life. How unChristian of them. I finally began allowing my religious
questions and doubts to rise to the surface, and discussed them with
my boyfriend, who understood the difficulty I was facing in beginning
to work against my brainwashing; he patiently encouraged me to use
logic and reason to determine the truth for myself. (He was two steps
ahead of me in the religion department, although I wasn't aware of
this at the time; he let me figure out what I thought for myself
before telling me about his own journey to similar conclusions.)

Ironically and completely unexpectedly, my dad was elated to find out
he was going to be a grandfather. He wasn't even fazed when I told him
who the father was (they had met once, but I had introduced my
boyfriend as "my friend", and they had gotten along surprisingly well)
and was utterly shocked that I thought he was a racist, which he
adamantly denied being. I later figured out that, with my dad, it's
nothing personal; he's just one of those people who hates everyone
equally.

Shortly after our the birth of our daughter, I found out I was
pregnant again, despite my faithful use of birth control. When our
first child was 13 months old, our son was born. We moved into a
larger apartment and I halfheartedly attended another church with a
friend a couple of times, but finally had to admit to myself that I
wasn't buying it anymore. I went home, looked myself in the eye in the
mirror, took a deep breath, and thought (I was too nervous to say it
aloud, as though I might be struck by lightning for my insolence) "I'm
not a Christian anymore. I don't believe that everything the Bible
says is true. I don't know if Jesus ever existed or not. Religion is a
tool used to control people. I'm not a Christian anymore." If you were
brainwashed from birth to believe that Christianity is the only right
way to live and that to deviate is to die spiritually, then you know
how hard it was to overcome that programming and dare to think what I
thought. I never went back to church again, and I've never missed it.

We went on to have two more daughters, and sometimes (particularly
after I get off the phone with my dad) I look at my beautiful,
intelligent, happy (when they're not fighting over some stupid toy)
children and am silently grateful that I "woke up" before I inflicted
another senseless religious brainwashing on a new generation. They
will never have to suppress their natural curiosity or shut their
perfectly functioning minds down in order to accept ancient
Middle-Eastern fairy tales as their basis for how to order their
lives. No one will dangle the threat of hellfire and eternal damnation
over them in order to frighten them into compliance with an outdated
mythology. Their parents are both back in college (after several
years' hiatus spent trying to cope with the sudden influx of
children); their mother is working on a Bachelor's in Biotechnology
(despite their grandfather's advice to "Be careful about gettin' too
educated; it'll turn you into a damn lib'ral atheist."); their father
is preparing to enter the Master's program as an MIS major. They're
growing up in a household full of books about science and business and
technology, and developing a healthy thirst for knowledge and
understanding instead of an irrational fear of a vengeful,
bloodthirsty god who hates women, gay people, and questions. I don't
mind them learning about various religions, including Christianity, as
long as they understand that different people believe different
things, that it's up to them to decide what they believe, if anything,
and that no one will ever force them to accept any belief system
against their will. I'm so glad I "got out." Also, to my everlasting
delight, I discovered just last year that my brother (who spent three
years in the Navy and now lives in Hawaii) has also been questioning
religion and is now at the phase where he clearly doesn't believe in
Christianity anymore but is reluctant to say it aloud for the same
reasons most of us are afraid to. So I'm not the only one breaking
free!

The only problem is that I still can't bring myself to admit to my
family that I don't believe what they want/expect me to believe. My
father has mellowed considerably in recent years; our relationship has
greatly improved and I've forgiven most of the insanity with which he
generously peppered my childhood, so you'd think he'd seem more
approachable to me than he once did, and you'd be right.

However, he still has the soul of the religious fanatic and the
black-and-white worldview that will tolerate no shades of gray, making
his stability questionable. In spite of everything, I do love my Dad,
and I'm especially close to my grandparents (his parents). What if I
tell them that I'm not a Christian anymore and they sever ties with
me? (Or, perhaps worse, engage in endless and fruitless efforts to
convert me back?) In my family, it could easily be THAT big of a deal.
My brother hasn't told them yet either, but he's never been very
family-oriented and is not nearly as close to our relatives as I am,
so I think the lack of emotional investment on his part would make any
excommunication by our family ineffective. For me, it would be very
upsetting, even devastating.

I've been postponing telling them for years now, but I'm afraid I'm
about to reach the point where I'll have to. They (my dad in
particular) are bringing up the kids' religious education more and
more, especially around religious holidays. For instance, my mother
(who has gotten slightly more religious over the years) called on
Easter morning a few months back to wish me a Happy Easter. "Have you
told the kids about the true meaning of Easter? Jesus died for us on
the cross and rose again from the dead to ascend to heaven. Today is a
holy day. It's not all about colorful eggs and chocolate and candy,
you know." (Me, rolling my eyes and thinking "To me it is!") Later, my
father called and demanded to know whether the kids have a Children's
Bible. I answered yes, although I didn't tell him it's in a box in the
back of my closet and that I have no intention of unpacking it. He
told me I needed to give it to my oldest daughter to read, and
mentioned that he's "going to start really working with them to teach
them about Jesus." I thought, "The hell you are!" but compromised
aloud by promising him that the kids would certainly know about the
Creator (and they will, as soon as they can look around at the sun and
moon and stars and trees and animals and know...). Thankfully, my dad
has a short attention span, so I can just - Hey look, a squirrel! -
and he forgets what he was talking about, but I can't change the
subject forever and I don't want to keep being such a coward. I'm a
grown woman for heaven's sake; I shouldn't be so scared to tell my
family. Not sure what to do at this point.

Anyway, in the unlikely event that someone is still reading after all
this time, I sincerely apologize for the length and detail, but it
feels better to get everything off my chest, even if no one ever reads
it. I love reading the other stories on this site; although I'm not an
atheist like many people on here (I consider myself a Deist), I
definitely sympathize with the atheist perspective and can certainly
relate to the Christian brainwashing, de-conversion experience, and
familial troubles I see being shared, and it's encouraging to be
reminded that I'm not the only one struggling away from lies and
toward the truth.

God condemn himself

Let's take a look at the Abraham Isaac fiasco. If we were to judge
this event by new testament standards Abraham would be guilty of human
sacrifice. Jesus tells us that if we just consider committing a sin in
our mind we are guilty of it (Mat 5:28). Unfulfilled intention is as
damnable as the intent fulfilling outward act itself. So, in short, we
have god tempting Abraham causing Abraham to commit human sacrifice.
Whether Abraham actually followed through on his intent to perform the
heinous act motivated by god of sacrificing his son Isaac doesn't
matter according to Jesus who is proclaimed the son of and equal to
god in the new testament.

English: Abraham embraces his son Isaac after receiving him back from
God (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Now, the christian god does not change (Mal 3:6). Therefore what learn
of god in the NT must also be true of him in the OT. As we have
already seen, unfulfilled intention is as damnable as the intent
fulfilling outward act itself (Mat 5:28; 1Jo 3:15). The christian god
also decrees that human sacrifice is evil (Deut 12:31, 18:10; 2Ki
21:6). The bible says the christian god cannot be tempted by evil nor
does he tempt anyone with evil (James 1:13). By the christian god's
own inspired words he judges himself guilty of tempting Abraham to
commit a vile sin and thereby is complicit in Abraham's sin of
sacrificing his son Isaac.

Does the christian god stand self condemned? The only way to partially
wiggle out of this textual conundrum, in my humble opinion, is to
admit the obvious, that the bible is not infallible. Careful though as
once you start out on this road paved by intellectual reprobates its a
slippery slope all the way down to delusion free thought.

What this blog is about ?

This is a continuation from http://celeron430.blogspot.com