Today on reddit, someone posted a discussion in r/AskReddit. It was titled, "Why are or aren't you religious?" A simple enough question.
I realized that I've never really sat down and wrote out why I left christianity so long ago. So, I did. It's long and a bit of a read, but it all needed to be said. This is the exact comment I left on reddit:
To understand why I am not religious, I have to share my history with religion.
My family was generally christian, though we never went to church. I
tried twice to be baptized: once to become a Lutheran and once to become
a Catholic. My dad chose to use those times to have petty fights with
my mother over child support and custody of my middle sister and I.
I stopped going to church entirely until I met my best friend in high
school. I still believed in god, though I was always terrified of him.
My youngest sister was quite sick when she was little. One of her
frequent hospital trips almost resulted in her death. I was always
terrified that god would kill her as revenge for some slight sin I was
unaware of. My friend thought that was foolish, and asked if I'd like to
start attending his Foursquare Pentecostal church and youth group.
At first, it was like a breath of life for my faith. At first, it was
all love, sunshine, and roses. And rock music in church? Hell, yes.
As time went by, best friend became boyfriend. He went off to college
and I still had two and a half years of high school in front of me. I
would go to church with him and his parents whenever he was home from
school. During summer breaks, we would both play on the worship team
band on Sunday mornings. I got really in to it. I also was dealing with a
lot of mental issues. I had been diagnosed with anxiety and depression.
This, coupled with the fact that every so often our pastor would decide
to go off on one of his end of the world rants, caused me to become
terrified of god again. I would lie awake for hours at night, in utter
despair because my youngest sister would never have a chance at a full
and happy life. The apocalypse was due at any time. Hell, I probably
wouldn't even have a chance to marry my boyfriend! I started praying and
praying that god would hold off on the apocalypse until after we were
all gone. Then, I started becoming terrified that god would kill my
family members and loved ones to spite me. I started praying for every
family member and loved one by individual name before I fell asleep at
night, no small task for someone with a huge family. It got to the point
that I would be scared to get up in the mornings, fearful that some
terrible disaster would have befallen my family. As I learned how to
mostly manage my anxiety, I cared less and less about my religion. I
became, as the saying is, "dormant in the faith." I would attend church
with my boyfriend because it as a chance to spend a few hours with him,
not out of any religious feeling.
As for he and I, we had had our ups and downs during the time when we
were long distance. He attended a church right off the campus and
started hanging out with a girl that he emotionally cheated on me with.
He had flirted with the idea of breaking up with me just to pursue this
girl. But once I had graduated high school, I myself headed for college.
And yes, I chose to attend the same college as him. Our relationship
improved and I even started feeling semi-religious again. We would
attend the church that he had found at college on occasion. As the
semesters went on, though, we eventually stopped. We didn't have time
for god with all of our courses taking up our time. We would still go to
church when we went home, he because his family insisted. I, because,
well, I didn't like not being with him all the time.
In February of 2009, we got engaged. At the end of the fall semester
after that, neither one of us could afford to stay in the dorms anymore,
so we decided to move into an apartment together. His parents' reaction
was terrible. They were so angry. The rest of his family wasn't happy,
either. One of his aunts sent us a letter, telling us we were "working
against god" with our blatant sin. I didn't see anyone offering to pay
our dorm fees, so we ignored it and moved in together. We decided to
tell our pastor, hoping to appease his parents. When we did, however, he
literally just turned his back to us and walked away. I was done with
church permanently at that point.
We had talked about getting married in his parent's church, but after
that fiasco, we decided against it. We were going to do this our way.
During our engagement, I made the mistake of posting Cyanide and
Happiness' annual Zombie Jesus Day comic on my own facebook wall. My
fiance's family retaliated horribly. The vast majority of them stopped
speaking to me. Something that is still occurring, nearly 3 years later.
During this time, I also stopped really believing in god. I don't have a
definite date that I stopped. It just sort of gradually happened. I
didn't really talk about how I felt to my fiance. It didn't seem
important enough.
During the final bits of wedding planning, my soon-to-be husband came
straight out and told me that he was now an atheist. I didn't know what
that word was, so I started researching. It made me take a hard look at
what religion had caused in my life: fear, anxiety, drama. I realized
that I was one, too. I just didn't have the name for it. From that point
on, for better or worse, we were done with god and the church. We ended
up having a secular wedding ceremony, performed by a friend. Yes, his
family was livid. We didn't care. We had each other and that's all that
mattered. We didn't need religion interfering in our lives, making us
fearful. We could be just as happy without it. And, truth be told, my
anxiety became a hell of a lot more manageable without having to
constantly worry about going to hell.
Through all of this, my family was just marvelous. They did not care
what our religious beliefs were. As long as we were happy, and did good
in the world, we were in the clear. It was such a stark contrast to how
my husband's family treated us.
It's been almost three years now since we got married. I kind of
consider that our official divorce from religion. In that time, my
husband and I have become better people. We try and do as much good as
we can in the world, not only because it's the right thing to do, but
because I personally feel like I need to make amends for what harm I may
have caused with my religion. We're also out to prove that we, as
atheists, are not evil people. We're just people. There are good ones,
bad ones, and everything in between. We cherish this single life we
have. This brief moment on this rock, hurtling through space. I make it a
point to love as many people as I can, and show them that. Yes, I have
my flaws. I am not perfect. I am a human. And that is all I need to be.
