Why I Let Go of Christianity

Notice that I didn’t say, “Why I let go of God”. That’s a topic for another time. The issue at hand is why I let go of religion and specifically Christianity. Many people have their own “deconversion story”. This is mine.

At age 17, I had what could be called, a religious or “born-again” experience. Almost overnight my life changed and I became what was then called a “Jesus Freak.” I started to read and study the Bible every day and I couldn’t wait to share my new found faith with anyone who would listen and to many who wouldn’t. Looking back, 50 years later, I still believe that my religious experience was somehow valid, but my view of Christianity has changed greatly since then. I have grown up and so has my view of religion.

First off, let me say that I didn’t choose to become a christian because I was afraid of going to hell. I knew nothing then about the concept of “original sin”, and had never heard of the expression “to accept JC as your personal lord and savior”. (Whatever that means!) Nobody, lead me to Christ, (as is said in christian circles). I was alone at the time of my conversion and baptism. It was beautiful and memorable and it changed my life.

At that time, all those years ago, like many teenagers, I was discontented with my life. My father had converted to Christianity when I was in the third grade, so I grew up going to church. I really don’t remember much from all those years in Sunday School, but I did remember the verse, “Behold I stand at the door and knock.” (Which, unbelievably, comes from the book of Revelations with its disputed authorship and questionable validity.) But at that moment, 50 years ago, I believed that Jesus was knocking, so I opened the door and invited him in as a friend. Little did I know how much baggage came along with that experience.

Behold, I stand at the door and knock.

 

One of the first things I did as a new christian was to actually read the bible, something I had never done before. Wanting to be the very best christian possible, I read it cover to cover multiple times in the first couple of years. However, the more I read the bible (some parts really are quite disturbing) and the more active I was in the church the harder it became to reconcile what I was learning at church with what I was learning in my higher education.

American Politician and 2012 presidential candidate Rick Santorum once told a group of supporters to stop supporting State run colleges and Universities because they were indoctrinating our young with worldly ideas. He went on to say that many children lose their faith in college. Here’s his quote

“It’s no wonder President Obama wants every kid to go to college,” said the former Pennsylvania senator. “The indoctrination that occurs in American universities is one of the keys to the left holding and maintaining power in America. And it is indoctrination. Because you know 62 percent of children who enter college with a faith conviction leave without it.”

CBS News Jan. 25, 2012

This kind of thinking drives me absolutely crazy, but I must admit, it’s what happened to me. I entered college with a faith conviction and left without it.

When someone starts to question religious dogma, christians usually attribute it to “radical secular indoctrination”, because that’s the easy explanation. But there’s more to it than that. When I got serious about college I became exposed to many different ideas, and serious thinkers. Your world view expands when you expand your mind. If it doesn’t, you’re not doing it right. I started to admire and seek out people who practiced rational thinking.

To my great surprise that form of rational thinking could not be found in my christian circles. I sought out people I admired from my church who, I hoped, would be able to discuss religion rationally. However, there was no one who was willing (or capable) of engaging in that kind of thinking. My questions were usually addressed with invalid reasoning and accompanied with memorized scripture verses. There’s a saying in christian circles, “God said it, I believe it, that settles it.” Using scripture to address my questioning was like putting a punctuation mark at the end of our conversation. It signaled that the discussion was over and nothing further needed to be said.

Back then I still believed that the bible was inspire by God and inerrant. I still wanted to be the best christian I could be, so I reluctantly accepted their explanations. It never once crossed my mind to ask the right questions. Did God really say it? How do we know? What if I don’t believe that quoting scripture settles everything?

As any student of social sciences knows, when someone begins to question the social system in which they find themselves, at first there will be increased communication between them and the group in order to provide correction to the wayward soul. However, if the person continues to question the status quo of group norms, all communication will cease. All I wanted was talk about religion rationally. However, the message was clear, questioning wasn’t allowed. I lost a lot of friends that year. Some of you can relate. And that angered me.

The next five to ten years were pretty painful. How did something that was so beautiful in the beginning turn out to be so wrong? Was it me? After all, christianity wasn’t flawed, was it? It had to be me. So, of course I blamed myself, over and over again. The messages from the pulpit also confirmed that conviction. Weekly sermons were a constant reminder of how we were displeasing God that week. I later referred to sermons as the “sin of the week”. There was always something we were doing wrong and our guiltiness was inescapable.

Fortunately, I gradually began to question what was being taught from the pulpit. Maybe it wasn’t me. Maybe it was the message. I kept that idea to myself.

I was becoming disillusioned with the empty dogma of Christianity and attended church less and less. One Sunday, on a rare visit to church, the message from the pulpit was that “in our natural selves dwells no goodness at all, that apart from Christ, our best deeds are no more attractive than soiled, puss drenched rags. Before Christ, goodness is cosmetic, badness is defining.” The pastor went to great lengths to explain that the god of the bible hates mankind but since we joined the Jesus Club, he liked us now… but just barely.

This way of thinking (original sin) is the basis for all Christianity, and I rejected it. I simply no longer believed the lie that “in our natural selves dwells no goodness at all” or that it is “humanistic error” to believe that people are basically good. It gave me cause to wondered if I could still consider myself a Christian.

I went away that morning thinking, “haven’t these people ever had a cat?” (You’ll notice that I didn’t say OWN a cat. You can’t actually OWN a cat.) It reminded me a a joke I once heard.

German Shepherd, Doberman and a cat have died. All three are faced with God who wants to know what they believe in. The German shepherd says: “I believe in discipline training and loyalty to my master.” “Good,” says God. “Then sit down on my right side. Doberman, what do you believe in?” The Doberman answers: “I believe in the love, care and protection of my master.” “Ah,” said God. “You may sit to my left.” Then he looks at the cat and asks, “And what do you believe in?”
The cat answers: “I believe you’re sitting in my seat.”

I love cats, so that joke made me chuckle and the god I wanted to believe in would chuckle too. Don’t get me wrong, I like dogs too. Unlike cats, they’re are so obedient, so loyal and so adoring. Everything a good christian should be. Cats on the other hand, by their nature, aren’t any of those things. I just couldn’t imagine that the God of the whole universe would strike down that cat because His ego needed to be stroked by adoration. After all, my feelings don’t get hurt when my cat chooses to completely ignore me, (which is just about any time she’s not hungry). I don’t feel less about her (or myself) when she refuses to obey me. I actually love that about her.

Should I hate cats because they stubbornly refuse to acknowledge that I am the master? Was I supposed to only love my cat if she behaved like a dog? What if my personality is more cat-like than dog-like? If God likes cats, could God like me? How could I believe in and serve the god of Christianity? After all, He hates me simply because I am who I am, a human.

I never went back to that or any other church.

Besides, you never see a cat at a dog park.

The final straw for me was how christians justify their treatment of the LGBT community, and their use of Leviticus 18:22 and other verses to vilify what they simply cannot understand. So, one day I was thinking about it and wondering why an omniscient god would include such incendiary verses knowing the suffering it would cause people all throughout history. Then I had an ah-ha experience. He didn’t.

For the first time in my life, I came to understand that the bible was written by men. Despite what I had been indoctrinated to believe, it was suddenly clear that it is neither inspired nor inerrant. So, with that insight, the fog that had obscured the fallacies surrounding Christianity was finally lifted, and I was freed from its tyranny. This was a turning point in my life, almost as important as my original conversion.

I always thought that I would return to church someday, and that I would be able to reconcile my world view with what was being taught in churches. It took years, (decades really) but one day, not too long ago, I simply “let go” of Christianity. I finally understood why questioning wasn’t allowed. I find it ironic that a religion which claims exclusive ownership of “the truth”, employs deceptive means to maintain it. The Christian narrative must be protected at all cost. You can’t risk allowing people to see what’s really behind the curtain. It’s impossible to still believe in an all powerful Wizard, when you’ve seen the truth.

Recently, several people have invited me to join them at their church. I always graciously and gently tell them that I am not interested in attending church. Without failure they have responded that there would be really good music at their church. Don’t get me wrong, I still really enjoy listening to good gospel music. However, the music would undoubtedly be followed by messages so full of fallacies and subterfuge, (which were so clear to me now), that I would have to get up and leave. The music wasn’t worth the message.

As the saying goes, “The truth will set you free”.  And for me, it did.

Coming up next:

So, now what? Letting go of religion left a gap in my life. I spent half of my life believing in something that turned out not to be true. How do I fill that gap? Fortunately, I had a dream about turtles that answered that question.

What did my turtle dream teach me about letting go of Christianity? It’s simpler than you might imagine.

 

 

From Where I Stand

Dale Crum

mt.toll@comcast.net