For the first time some one has written my feelings without meeting me. Why Im no longer a Christian
Why should you care in the slightest about my religious views?
I cannot possibly imagine.
Several people on topix, though, in the wake of various postings I’ve made on religious subjects, have asked me for an explanation of just how I arrived at my present agnosticism, or atheism, or whatever it is. So rather than answering these various people individually I’ve elected to start this forum and direct the interested parties here.
What follows is nothing more or less than a summary of my personal experiences as a Christian, related about as honestly as I know how to do it. I’m not hoping for contributions, followers, or enlightenment, and I don’t claim it to be momentous or universal or significant to anyone but me. But it is genuine.
Dearth of Couth
Why I’m no longer a Christian, Part One
I was raised from my infancy by deeply religious people, surrounded by a family full of Baptist preachers, deacons and missionaries. I myself was baptized, as well as I can recall, at about the age of ten.
I can remember being struck by the fact that everyone around me at the time – and I do mean everyone – kept telling me that what I had just experienced was the most important event of my life, and that everything else I would ever do would shrink to insignificance alongside it. I was receiving the power of the Lord. It was a special time for me.
Well, I enjoyed all the attention, as any kid would, but I remember wondering: Why don’t I feel any different, myself? I thought about my attitudes, my perceptions, the circumstances of my life, and I couldn’t think of a single thing that was any different, now that I was one with Jesus. No matter how hard I tried to find something new and meaningful, there was nothing. It was a hollow, empty, and lonely sensation, and surprisingly so. It was not what I had expected at all.
I concluded after a time that I must not be doing something right. Everyone around me seemed so confident and secure in their faith and mine so tenuous in comparison, I felt left out. The shortcoming, I decided, must be mine. I must be missing something.
I resolved to try harder. I devoted myself to Bible study and prayer. I sensed that everyone around me would be horrified if I were to express any of these reservations I was feeling, so I kept them to myself. I suppressed them, and did my best to forget them altogether.
The years went by and I attended services regularly but somehow I never quite shook the uneasy sense, in the back of my mind, that I had never truly felt the presence of a transcendent being – Jesus, God, or anyone at all.
I remained outwardly compliant, but inwardly I began to feel isolated and as much as I tried to banish this feeling, it persisted. As I reached adulthood it intensified until I became aware that, despite my best efforts, it was not going to go way. More troubling still was the bulk of doubts I began to feel about matters of doctrine. I began to doubt, among many other things, the true value of grace.
But I tried to put these issues out of my mind. What I was doing, of course, was not avoiding a crisis but merely postponing it When it finally arrived it hit so suddenly, it startled me.
DearthOfCouth
“What do I know?”
Why I’m no longer a Christian, Part Two
I mentioned my doubts about the value of grace. Let me try to explain:
I learned early on that I, as a rather perceptive and articulate kid, wielded the power of language. I was able to wound someone deeply with a well-timed and chosen, derisive remark. I’m ashamed to say that I flung these about, at an early stage of my life, freely and easily. These thoughtless barbs of mine were the cause of a lot of needless pain. I believe they were the greatest sins of my commission, ever.
I was assured that my sins were forgiven me but I became aware after a time that the targets of my derision, once hurt or offended, remained hurt or offended for a very long time. Jesus’ forgiveness of me, I noted, made no difference at all to the people I had hurt. Things changed for me as I approached adulthood and began to feel genuine empathy for other people. In time I came to feel an element of real remorse for the thoughtlessness of my adolescence, and when I felt these regrets – I still feel them today -- I realized that Jesus’ grace made no real difference to me, either.
Grace was like the presence of God; everyone said it was real. But no matter how I tried, I was not able to feel it myself.
My crisis arrived one day at a church prayer service when the minister asked us all to recall our thoughts and feelings on the day we were saved. Surely we remembered the day vividly. It was the most important day of our lives.
People around me began standing, one at a time, and giving witness. The recurring phrase, as I recall it, was “the weight of mountains off my shoulders.” I sat there in my pew and reflected in private silence over the vague, unfulfilled void I had experienced in the wake of my own baptism, by this time some ten years in the past.
The minister went on to inform us that we, as the committed Christians we were, ought still to enjoy that same exultant, liberated feeling today. Didn’t we?
Again the witnessing from the pews around me, everyone standing in turn to give solemn testimony that they did indeed feel the power of Jesus in their lives, each and every day. It was profound, they said. It was moving. They were touched, one and all, to the very core of their existence and the strength of their inspiration did not dissipate as time elapsed, but rather grew stronger.
It went on this way. I turned this way and that to listen as the faithful on all sides of me rose and gave vivid testimony. The passion of Jesus, apparently, was with everyone in the assembly. Except me.
DearthOfCouth
“What do I know?”
Why I’m no longer a Christian, Part Three
Then it hit me: We were moving around the congregation as if someone were taking role, and we were not leaving anyone out. More and more of them had begun to turn their attention toward me, wide-eyed and expectant. Any minute now it was going to be my turn and I would be expected to offer my personal testimony. What was I going to say?
My options, it seemed to me, were as follows:
1. Come clean with everyone and confess my innermost doubts, to admit that I had searched diligently but in vain over the years for some evidence of an impact that Jesus had had upon my life. Or
2. Make something up. I could, I was certain, blather something about a luminous presence, something affecting every aspect of my life and making it better. In short, I could lie.
Lying seemed the easiest solution, and it tempted me. But it occurred to me – to whom would I be lying? Jesus? Am I honestly contemplating an attempt to con Jesus?
Then I thought, Who is it that I’ve been deceiving for the last ten years with this elaborate pretense, sitting here in this church? Who am I fooling? Jesus? God? My family? The congregation?
Myself?
The witnessing continued and the population of remaining, un-testified Christians was dwindling by the minute. I was going to have to reach a decision and very soon. I sensed that the choice I was about to make was going to influence the rest of my life, and I was at once relieved and energized to have reached a culmination and resentful that I was being compelled to reach it hurriedly, in a public forum.
My time was running out. What was I going to do?
DearthOfCouth
“What do I know?”
Why I’m no longer a Christian, Part Four
Finally, struggling with my private predicament in that pew during prayer service, I knew what it was that I had to do. I came to the realization that there was only one possible course of action that seemed to offer me any degree of self-respect, and there was no other course to take, so at long last I took it. I stood and walked out.
I did not look anyone in the eye as I passed and I have no idea whether anyone registered surprise, hostility, concern, or anything at all. For all I know they all faced forward and ignored me as I turned left at the end of the aisle and made my final exit from the building. The moment I reached the open air outside I was astonished to find that I was finally, after all this time, experiencing something that was vivid and genuine and undeniable. In fact it was nearly overpowering. It crested over me like a breaker:
Relief.
From now on, I resolved that day, I will not stop and examine my innermost thoughts and evaluate, whether they are appropriately reverent and sanctimonious. I will admit my doubts and reservations and when people ask me for my thoughts I will express them respectfully but openly, as I am doing now.
If everyone around me seems confident and secure where I am irresolute and sceptical then I decline to acknowledge this as a problem, for me or for anyone else. That’s just the way it is.
Leaving the prayer meeting that day was a liberating, exhilarating, and truly life-changing experience for me. It was my “baptism” and I will never forget it.
I’m free.
If I have to account someday for the decisions I’ve made and the actions I’ve taken, then I will. But I won’t again lie to anyone that I’m feeling something or sensing something when I’m not. I won’t try to deceive anyone around me but most importantly I won’t lie to myself. Life is too short to waste it that way.
I cannot possibly imagine.
Several people on topix, though, in the wake of various postings I’ve made on religious subjects, have asked me for an explanation of just how I arrived at my present agnosticism, or atheism, or whatever it is. So rather than answering these various people individually I’ve elected to start this forum and direct the interested parties here.
What follows is nothing more or less than a summary of my personal experiences as a Christian, related about as honestly as I know how to do it. I’m not hoping for contributions, followers, or enlightenment, and I don’t claim it to be momentous or universal or significant to anyone but me. But it is genuine.
Dearth of Couth
Why I’m no longer a Christian, Part One
I was raised from my infancy by deeply religious people, surrounded by a family full of Baptist preachers, deacons and missionaries. I myself was baptized, as well as I can recall, at about the age of ten.
I can remember being struck by the fact that everyone around me at the time – and I do mean everyone – kept telling me that what I had just experienced was the most important event of my life, and that everything else I would ever do would shrink to insignificance alongside it. I was receiving the power of the Lord. It was a special time for me.
Well, I enjoyed all the attention, as any kid would, but I remember wondering: Why don’t I feel any different, myself? I thought about my attitudes, my perceptions, the circumstances of my life, and I couldn’t think of a single thing that was any different, now that I was one with Jesus. No matter how hard I tried to find something new and meaningful, there was nothing. It was a hollow, empty, and lonely sensation, and surprisingly so. It was not what I had expected at all.
I concluded after a time that I must not be doing something right. Everyone around me seemed so confident and secure in their faith and mine so tenuous in comparison, I felt left out. The shortcoming, I decided, must be mine. I must be missing something.
I resolved to try harder. I devoted myself to Bible study and prayer. I sensed that everyone around me would be horrified if I were to express any of these reservations I was feeling, so I kept them to myself. I suppressed them, and did my best to forget them altogether.
The years went by and I attended services regularly but somehow I never quite shook the uneasy sense, in the back of my mind, that I had never truly felt the presence of a transcendent being – Jesus, God, or anyone at all.
I remained outwardly compliant, but inwardly I began to feel isolated and as much as I tried to banish this feeling, it persisted. As I reached adulthood it intensified until I became aware that, despite my best efforts, it was not going to go way. More troubling still was the bulk of doubts I began to feel about matters of doctrine. I began to doubt, among many other things, the true value of grace.
But I tried to put these issues out of my mind. What I was doing, of course, was not avoiding a crisis but merely postponing it When it finally arrived it hit so suddenly, it startled me.
DearthOfCouth
“What do I know?”
Why I’m no longer a Christian, Part Two
I mentioned my doubts about the value of grace. Let me try to explain:
I learned early on that I, as a rather perceptive and articulate kid, wielded the power of language. I was able to wound someone deeply with a well-timed and chosen, derisive remark. I’m ashamed to say that I flung these about, at an early stage of my life, freely and easily. These thoughtless barbs of mine were the cause of a lot of needless pain. I believe they were the greatest sins of my commission, ever.
I was assured that my sins were forgiven me but I became aware after a time that the targets of my derision, once hurt or offended, remained hurt or offended for a very long time. Jesus’ forgiveness of me, I noted, made no difference at all to the people I had hurt. Things changed for me as I approached adulthood and began to feel genuine empathy for other people. In time I came to feel an element of real remorse for the thoughtlessness of my adolescence, and when I felt these regrets – I still feel them today -- I realized that Jesus’ grace made no real difference to me, either.
Grace was like the presence of God; everyone said it was real. But no matter how I tried, I was not able to feel it myself.
My crisis arrived one day at a church prayer service when the minister asked us all to recall our thoughts and feelings on the day we were saved. Surely we remembered the day vividly. It was the most important day of our lives.
People around me began standing, one at a time, and giving witness. The recurring phrase, as I recall it, was “the weight of mountains off my shoulders.” I sat there in my pew and reflected in private silence over the vague, unfulfilled void I had experienced in the wake of my own baptism, by this time some ten years in the past.
The minister went on to inform us that we, as the committed Christians we were, ought still to enjoy that same exultant, liberated feeling today. Didn’t we?
Again the witnessing from the pews around me, everyone standing in turn to give solemn testimony that they did indeed feel the power of Jesus in their lives, each and every day. It was profound, they said. It was moving. They were touched, one and all, to the very core of their existence and the strength of their inspiration did not dissipate as time elapsed, but rather grew stronger.
It went on this way. I turned this way and that to listen as the faithful on all sides of me rose and gave vivid testimony. The passion of Jesus, apparently, was with everyone in the assembly. Except me.
DearthOfCouth
“What do I know?”
Why I’m no longer a Christian, Part Three
Then it hit me: We were moving around the congregation as if someone were taking role, and we were not leaving anyone out. More and more of them had begun to turn their attention toward me, wide-eyed and expectant. Any minute now it was going to be my turn and I would be expected to offer my personal testimony. What was I going to say?
My options, it seemed to me, were as follows:
1. Come clean with everyone and confess my innermost doubts, to admit that I had searched diligently but in vain over the years for some evidence of an impact that Jesus had had upon my life. Or
2. Make something up. I could, I was certain, blather something about a luminous presence, something affecting every aspect of my life and making it better. In short, I could lie.
Lying seemed the easiest solution, and it tempted me. But it occurred to me – to whom would I be lying? Jesus? Am I honestly contemplating an attempt to con Jesus?
Then I thought, Who is it that I’ve been deceiving for the last ten years with this elaborate pretense, sitting here in this church? Who am I fooling? Jesus? God? My family? The congregation?
Myself?
The witnessing continued and the population of remaining, un-testified Christians was dwindling by the minute. I was going to have to reach a decision and very soon. I sensed that the choice I was about to make was going to influence the rest of my life, and I was at once relieved and energized to have reached a culmination and resentful that I was being compelled to reach it hurriedly, in a public forum.
My time was running out. What was I going to do?
DearthOfCouth
“What do I know?”
Why I’m no longer a Christian, Part Four
Finally, struggling with my private predicament in that pew during prayer service, I knew what it was that I had to do. I came to the realization that there was only one possible course of action that seemed to offer me any degree of self-respect, and there was no other course to take, so at long last I took it. I stood and walked out.
I did not look anyone in the eye as I passed and I have no idea whether anyone registered surprise, hostility, concern, or anything at all. For all I know they all faced forward and ignored me as I turned left at the end of the aisle and made my final exit from the building. The moment I reached the open air outside I was astonished to find that I was finally, after all this time, experiencing something that was vivid and genuine and undeniable. In fact it was nearly overpowering. It crested over me like a breaker:
Relief.
From now on, I resolved that day, I will not stop and examine my innermost thoughts and evaluate, whether they are appropriately reverent and sanctimonious. I will admit my doubts and reservations and when people ask me for my thoughts I will express them respectfully but openly, as I am doing now.
If everyone around me seems confident and secure where I am irresolute and sceptical then I decline to acknowledge this as a problem, for me or for anyone else. That’s just the way it is.
Leaving the prayer meeting that day was a liberating, exhilarating, and truly life-changing experience for me. It was my “baptism” and I will never forget it.
I’m free.
If I have to account someday for the decisions I’ve made and the actions I’ve taken, then I will. But I won’t again lie to anyone that I’m feeling something or sensing something when I’m not. I won’t try to deceive anyone around me but most importantly I won’t lie to myself. Life is too short to waste it that way.
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