Facing Alzheimer’s without a Net

By freeatlast ~

As a child, I heard so many sermons, sang so many hymns about heaven, and although I would have never admitted it out loud, secretly I found the thought of streets of gold and endless praises to God dull, so I jazzed up heaven in my mind. I conjured place of endless chocolate ice cream; an amusement park with roller coasters and no lines; a place where I could ride my bike-- complete with banana seat and sissy bar--forever downhill. Despite the boring aspects, though, the idea of living forever without sickness or sadness was quite appealing, and as I became a devoutly Christian adult, trying to convince myself that singing endless praises to God would be AWESOME, the deep appeal of heaven still lay in the promise of happy immortality.

This denial of death is the root of most religions. As the only animals aware of our mortality, religion is the preferred coping mechanism for most of us, the way we deal (or fail to deal) with the fundamental tragedy of existence: we age; we hurt; we die; we are no more; the end. This denial also explains why religious people find atheists so threatening: How dare they challenge that lovely dream?

I find myself [...] facing my deepest fear, that of annihilation...It is simply a dream, though, a fantasy for those unable, unwilling to face the truth.

Having recently shed religion like a robe that is too tight and way too small, I find myself naked on this planet, facing my deepest fear, that of annihilation, facing it squarely as I gaze into the face of my father as he dies of Alzheimer’s disease.

Christianity tells me that although my dad is fading here on earth, I should not grieve or worry because Alzheimer’s is only temporary, the unfortunate result of someone’s actions long, long ago who took a bite of the wrong fruit. I can rejoice because even though he is bewildered now, and he forgets to put on his clothes, even though he cannot remember who I am and what he did five minutes ago, even though he is going to have to wear adult diapers soon, it’s OK because heaven awaits! What a lovely thought.

What a lovely lie.

The truth is my father is dying in increments of a cruel disease, and unless his heart gives out first, his future holds one indignity after another as his cognitive light dims. I can walk with him in the growing darkness and find joy in our moments together, but I cannot change the outcome, and I can no longer deny to myself that this outcome is final for him and for me too someday.

Earlier I said that our mortality, and our awareness of it, is the fundamental tragedy of human existence, but perhaps I should view it instead as the fundamental reality. Hamlet mused, “There is nothing good or bad but thinking makes it so,” so maybe I just need to adjust my thinking.

Indeed, if we all shifted our thinking, accepting that this one life is really all we have, perhaps we would learn to better care for ourselves, our planet, and each other, not to earn some “heaven” or escape some “hell,” but just because we are human, and we are in this together.

INTERVIEW WITH AN EX-EVANGELICAL CHRISTIAN: A Deconversion Story from Canada

By Brandr Rasmussen ~

Thanks for coming to this interview. We’re all curious to hear about your journey.

Thanks for having me.

So let’s just jump right in. Did you have any Christian background before you “joined the tribe” so to speak?

I grew up in a suburb of Vancouver, Canada. Basically in the countryside. Where I lived, our only choices were to be “secular”, or to adopt Evangelical Christianity. A few became Jehovah’s Witnesses. My own family was not religious, although my parents brought me and my siblings to Sunday School at various churches. That was common practice in those days. Just to give kids a foundation of morality, or so the parents thought. Really it was about arts and crafts, a few fantasy-like Bible stories and silly songs. My generation of kids didn’t take it all very seriously.

If I grew up in Saudi Arabia, I’m pretty sure I’d be a Muslim. If in Thailand, I’d be a Buddhist. Or in India, a Hindu. I think the planet’s citizens are most often tied to their religion by geography than anything else.

Did any person, or book, or something else, win you over to Christianity?

Our elementary school allowed the Gideons, an Evangelical ministry, to give out free New Testaments to Grade 6 children. So I got one, and read some. I also found a Good News Bible kicking around our house. That was easier to understand, so I read it more. My neighbours were typical apple pie, goody-two-shoes Christians, the whole Pat Boone, freshly-scrubbed look and all. So they had a bit of influence on me. I used to argue about the “End Times” with one of their boys, who later became a good friend. When I did convert, I ended up going to church with them.

Any epiphany that led you to embrace the faith?

Funny you say that. The day I “prayed the prayer” to follow Christianity was one where I woke up in the morning after having an embarrassing sexual dream about some girl in my 8th Grade class. I wanted to puke. After cleaning up and getting a fresh pair of underwear, I felt so guilty, so . . . dirty. I walked upstairs in my grandparents home, where my mom and sisters were staying for a weekend, and read part of the Sermon on the Mount in the book of Matthew. It said there that if I look at a woman in lust, it was counted as adultery. Cursing someone was equal to murder and would be lead to punishment in Hell. At the time, I and my high school buddies were listening to AC/DC, the Australian rock band, as they were just getting super popular. They had a song called Highway to Hell that freaked me out. I had a strong aversion to going to any eternal place of fire and brimstone.

So fear was a factor in my conversion. Fear of God’s punishment. Also, the desire to be cleansed from all the wearying “filth” of secular culture, especially all the pornography magazines I had been reading for the past few years. Also, my parents had divorced a couple years earlier. I and my two younger sisters lived with our dad in a “broken” home. The Christians advertised about “God’s love” a lot. The promo worked; I was attracted. Who wouldn’t want a hug from a huge, invisible god? ; )

Were there any other factors that pushed you to convert?

Well, I also think that I was rebelling . . . rebelling against my father, who was quite an angry man in those days, and very, very anti-religion.

My revolt was also a response to the culture, the Americanised commercial hustler-like culture that we young Canadians were exposed to. We were only 17 minutes by car to the U.S. border!

Ironically, I also embraced another pillar of American society, its Evangelical Christianity. During my teen years, it was a time when American-style fundamentalism was gaining ground both in the US and Canada. It was on an upswing. And the bandwagon swept me aboard.

What were some of the changes that happened upon conversion?

For one, I took my pop records and porno mags and set fire to them all in our back yard burning barrel. I began reading the Bible more, and other Christian books. As I mentioned before, I started attending an Evangelical church with my neighbours, joined its youth group. I stopped cussing and focusing on attracting girls. And I have had a lot of wonderful friends over the years. So there has been some positive effects.

But in a lot of ways, it’s been a tough road. My family wasn’t particularly supportive, although I don’t blame them. I was often way over the top. And they didn’t appreciate me preaching at them all the time.

So it was quite an independent road I traveled for many years. I thought I had the truth. I faithfully attended church, but often felt that the rank-and-file of believers weren’t “spiritual” enough. I sought refuge in many kinds of “revival movements” and Christian subcultures over the years: King James Bible Only, Word-of-Faith charismatic, the Pensacola Revival, cell church, house church, the 10/40 Window missions movement, etc. From fad to fad. It was wearying.

My worldview isolated me from a lot of people. We were taught by preachers not to get too close to unbelievers. They were headed for Hell, so our only motive for befriending them was to “share the Good News”. It’s a repulsive way to view humanity, if you ask me. And although there was a lot of talk about loving our neighbours, I’d say a lot of us weren’t so keen on that. You could even say we hated our neighbours.

I became very judgmental and preachy. This put a lot of strain on my relationship with family and classmates. I disliked science classes. I was taught that the world was only six thousand years old, and that scientists were lying to us about evolution. So I went into the Arts in university and avoided learning much about Science, which I now regret. I would have benefited more by finding out how the world REALLY works.

And what seeds were sown over time to promote your deconversion?

First of all, Evangelicals would argue that there is no such thing as deconversion. No one who is a true believer leaves. It’s impossible.

Those who do leave were never the real thing. They were either legalistic, just following a bunch of rules to make it into Heaven. Or they were relying on feelings. But no genuine relationship with Jesus.

Now, of course, I believe that’s total bunk. I had a relationship that was as warm and vibrant as any of the Evangelicals had. I was “saved by grace through faith”. I believed it all. I sought to reflect Jesus in my character, to obey him in all my ways. I was as sincere as any of them. Of course, because it’s all imaginary. I could rouse my feelings just as well as any of them. It’s a feelings-based religion.

I was so passionate, that I let the faith dictate my career. I spent years in seminary studying a Master of Cross Cultural Ministries in order to serve as a missionary overseas, which I did for several years. I put all my eggs in the Christian basket. “Christ” was my all in all, as one praise song says.

The problem was, over time, that I slowly understood that this was a failed religion. Sure, there’s all the rhetoric in the Bible, about people’s lives being changed. And it said that the world, at least where there were lots of Christians, would be a better place. But things didn’t get better. On average, I’d say people got worse.

This myth of liberation and life-change is strongly propagated by the Christian Bible. In the Old Testament, Yahweh was constantly getting on the case of a wayward and disobedient Israel. It looks like they couldn’t get it right until Jesus came.

So, in the New Testament, especially in the Book of Acts, you have this marketing tool that shows us a victorious, dynamic young Church where people were changed and made a difference. But that never happened. What did happen, was that a movement developed where recruits were won over with a lot of fancy PR, with a glamorous spin on the real historical Jesus and Church.

Over time, you finally figure out that this was simply one huge failed experiment. The faith grew, was co-opted by the Roman Empire, and morphed a million times over the centuries, in different geographical areas.

But instead of bringing new life to people and communities, it often brought division and intolerance. And this faith, with human sacrifice at its core, demanding strict obedience to a wrathful god masquerading as a friendly deity, has brought untold suffering to millions.

Think about all those Jews who refused to convert to a bastardized, co-opted version of their own ethnic religion. Think of all the tribal peoples who were forced into it simply because the European Christians had invented gun boats or Gattling guns before anyone else. Think about the Scandinavian King getting all his fellow Vikings to convert at the edge of the sword. Those were my ancestors!

I’m convinced: Christianity is one big historical failure. It brings no liberation, as it promises. Just a lot of glitz. Like a cake that’s all icing.

Did you realize all this at one time, or . . . ?

Well, one of the cracks in the dam came when I returned from my attempts to do missionary work in China around 2008. While living in Vancouver, I got to know several indigenous people, the ones who inhabited Canada long before any European settlers came. I began to hear many stories about what white Canadians, especially Christians, had done to them: spreading of deadly European diseases, theft of land, forced relocation, taking away of the resources and means to make a living, kidnapping of children, re-education in the white man’s ways in Christian schools, etc. It was not a pretty picture. And it was all caused by a people – the Europeans – who had Christianity at the root of their worldview.

When I mentioned this and other issues to Christians, most of the time all I got in response were lame excuses and justifications. Oh, those Europeans weren’t REAL Christians - always a favourite line. Oh, this is the result of natives refusing Christianity and preferring their pagan ways. Etc. Etc. At the heart of all this, I found out that we European-Canadian Christians were simply a bunch of bigots, wielding the tools of Empire in the name of Christ, to grab land and resources from people who had a less powerful army than ours.

Wow. Anything else get you questioning?

Yeah: basically I found out that this is an imperial religion. It’s perfect for controlling the masses. That’s why Constantine adopted it in the early 4th Century. As long as the Empire gives you freedom of religion, you obey your earthly rulers who were appointed by God. It’s every ruler’s dream.

I abandoned church-going for a year, since I figured that these Evangelicals weren’t true Jesus-followers who promoted loving God and neighbour.

Then one day, it dawned on me. The Roman Emperor Constantine was responsible for “co-opting” the Christian faith and turning it into a system of control. Yes, but he also organized the adoption of the Christian Bible. The religious leaders he worked with shaped the “canon”, or “standard”, of the Old and New Testament Bible books. Many books were rejected, and the documents that supported Constantine’s brand of imperial Christianity, were adopted.

So the Bible too, which I had always thought to be 100% true, was actually assembled as a tool of control. The freedom it promises is simply good PR. It sucked me in as a 14 year old teenager, because that is what I wanted to see in it. But after three decades of following this Book, I finally realized that it was a lie, a weak piece of fiction that got me no closer to God than staring at a leaf would.

This realisation was the proverbial “piece of straw that broke the camel’s back”.

So what did you do then?

I said, I’m leaving this crap. I mean, if there’s any god, it certainly can’t be this Christian god.

I drifted to officially become an agnostic, then finally an atheist, with a strong emphasis on Nature as the Ground Zero of all truth.

In regards to the possibility of their being an all-loving, all-powerful god, I said to myself: “If Batman or Superman would do anything within their power to save people, why would this stingy, moody, supposedly all-loving and all-powerful Christian god not intervene in human suffering?

“Oh, we have free choice. Oh, it’s a mystery.” Well, that’s pure propaganda. Lame excuses. Trying to cover up the flaws of a failed system. It’s like medicine that never works, making the patient even sicker. Fake. Snake oil.

You sound like you did a complete 180 turn. What kind of changes took place in your life after that?

It’s been over a year since I decided to abandon Christianity. It was both a relief and a challenge.

I was happy to have finally escaped such a cloying, overpowering system of thought. And to be away from church, churches. I had more time. I didn’t have to pay 10% of my income to snake oil salesmen. I could think for myself.

But there was, and still is, a lot of deprogramming. I mean, this is like a mind control cult. Really. Your thoughts are not your own. It’s a tribe controlled with Group Think.

For the first while, I had to get used to not praying. For decades, I was praying to God under my breath most of my waking hours. And I’d spend a relaxing time early in the mornings, reading the Bible, praying, singing, etc. I had to pinch myself and say, “There’s no one to pray to. You’ve been talking to your alter ego all these years.”

It was hard at first, but I took a lot of nature walks and tried to re-centre myself around just experiencing life for what it is, minus all the fantasy attached to it.

My relationships did take a hit. Three decades of Christian friendships withered. That was hard. In some part, I think my Christian friends gave up on contacting me after hearing about my deconversion. Too bothersome to discuss someone knocking your beloved religion. Also, on my part, I lost interest in connecting with Christian friends, simply because the basis of our friendship, the Christian faith, was gone. I’m sure that they felt the same.

So I’m in the process of developing new friendships. It’s been lonely at times, but things are starting to pick up. My neighbourhood is quite religious. There are churches everywhere, especially with Filipinos, Koreans and Chinese, who are the majority here, and most of whom are Christian. I suppose many other people base their friendships on hobbies, so I have to also look at this as a way to meet new friends.

What’s your assessment of deconversion? Would you recommend it to Christians?

Overall, I could say it’s worth it. It’s not easy. But to know and follow the truth is such a relief. That is, truth based on reality, on verifiable facts. Not on mythological stories written by those wishing to build and sustain an Empire.

Ha ha, recommend it? Sure. But as far as I could see, deconversion is rare among adults. It happens more often among teens and young adults who are getting away from the influence of religious parents.

But for older folks: yes, it can happen, and I would encourage people to really study the facts. Do your research. Most Christians don’t. They got pulled into the faith by family and friends, especially at a young and impressionable age. They didn’t have the tools to do a good, thorough job of researching. I sure didn’t when I was 14.

Many others convert because of friends who invite them to church, a potluck or a Bible study. They just drift along into it.

Don’t be a drifter. Be someone who does their homework. For example, try studying all the times a New Testament Gospel such as Matthew, Mark, Luke and John quotes an Old Testament verse trying to prove that Jesus is the long-awaited Jewish Messiah and Savior. You’ll find that most Messianic quotes are taken out of context.

And many other things in the Bible don’t make sense. The stories are interesting, but hardly believable as a work of historical fact.

I remember hearing one comedian say, “No adult goes into a bookstore, pulls a Bible off the shelf, reads it for the first time and says, ‘Wow. This is the religion for me. I’m going to sacrifice my whole life for this!’ No, Christians get you when you’re young, a kid, when you can’t argue back, when your brain is soft and mushy.”

And I think that’s true. Most of us are not really taught to question things when we are children. We are taught to obey.

Or else the evangelizers will get you when you’re having a crisis: a death among family or friends, a divorce, a health concern, etc. They prey on you when you’re weak and vulnerable, with a pretense of bringing comfort and relief.

So there you have it: kids and adults in crisis. They’re at the top of your list of easy targets. And that’s how Christianity grows.

Thanks a lot for participating in this interview. Any final comments?

I thank you also for giving me the chance to share my story.

One final thought I can say is: people, think for yourselves. Stop being sheeple, following the herd. Be independent. Do what’s right. Keep seeking for truth!

Thank you and have a great day!

Thank you very much. It sounds like quite an adventure!

A Creator-Being vs. the Biblical God

By Ben Love ~

Where exactly is God? This is my question for those of you who believe in God.Where is he? If he is a personal God, then he must therefore be a person (on some level). A person, by definition, has to occupy space and time somewhere, right? So, where is God?

"He exists everywhere," you might say.

I might inquire what this is supposed to mean, exactly. God is everywhere? Does this mean that there is no place in existence where God does not dwell? This implies, then, that if you believe in Hell, God must be there, too. But Hell is defined by Christians as, among other things, separation from God. How can there ever exist a place in all of reality where God is not present if God really is everywhere? God must be just as present in the Biblical idea of Hell as he is in the Biblical idea of Heaven, otherwise, you cannot say God is "everywhere." The statement is incoherent.

We might then inquire what exactly the word exist means. To exist means to be present, to occupy space and time as some form of matter. This, then, would have to mean that God resides within the Universe, not outside of it. But if God resides within the Universe, how could he possibly have created it? This would be the same as trying to argue that the fish created the ocean. Now, granted, one could theoretically say that God exists in some form other than matter in space and in time, but this "other form," whatever it may be, is therefore not observable. As such, one cannot have any kind of meaningful conversation about what this God might be like. We would be fully within the land of pure speculation at that point. Furthermore, if God, whatever he/she/it may be, does indeed exist outside of the Universe, then, again, there is no use trying to talk about God, because no living being has the slightest idea what this entity would be like. After all, no human being has ever traveled beyond the edge of the Universe, if indeed such a boundary even exists at all.

I bring these issues up because they are just a few of the many, many incoherent beliefs that abound regarding the Biblical God, the God of Christianity. (For a full and thorough examination of all these incoherences that are unique to the Christian God, see Dan Barker's book Godless.) Another such example would be to say that God is both fully just and fully merciful. This is totally incoherent. How could any being, deity or otherwise, be both? We all know the definitions of just and merciful. God cannot fully be both. If God is fully just, he cannot have any mercy (because even just one tiny little sin, according to Christian doctrine, is enough to earn you an eternal slot in Hell). To be "just" means to dispense fair and equitable consequences. According to Christianity, a fair and equitable consequence for even just one sin is eternal punishment. Where, then, is the room for mercy? Likewise, if God is fully merciful, he is therefore, by definition, unjust. If the crime deserves a just punishment, but God then commutes the sentence out of his mercy, he has not actually served justice. He therefore cannot be both. (I have actually heard Christians say the following, "Incoherent or not, it makes no difference to me. My God is [contradictory adjective 1], [contradictory adjective 2], and [contradictory adjective 3] all at the same time because I have faith that this is true." Okay, well, that's great that you have faith in the truth of your incoherent statement, but what does this have to do with proof and reality? Couldn't I just as easily say that blue plus seven equals pasta? No matter how deep my faith is in this statement, it is still totally incoherent.)

The point is this, the God described in the Bible cannot be God. Why not? The entity known as "God" in the pages of the Bible disqualifies himself from being a true "God" simply by his actions as reported in the pages of that very book. In Exodus, God tells his people not to kill other human beings (it's one of his Ten Commandments, in fact). Then, just a few books later, in Joshua, he explicitly instructs them to slaughter the men, women, and children of Canaan. So what we have here, ostensibly, is an entity that on the one hand has apparently instructed humans not to commit murder, but then only the other hand makes exceptions to this rule when it suits his "divine plan." I have actually heard Christians excuse this by saying, "He's God. He can take life whenever he wants and it's not murder, because he's God." Well, even just assuming that this is an adequate answer (which it is not), this is not an example of God "taking life;" this is an example of God telling a group of his creations to commit genocide against another group of his creations. How can "God" literally ask you to commit a sin? "Oh, but it's not sin when God tells you to do it." Okay, but if this God is not the example of morality, how can he also be your standard? Thus, the Biblical God contradicts himself and violates the morality he is supposedly responsible for erecting when it suits his fancy to do so. This contradiction is only one example.

In addition, hasn't it ever struck you as particularly interesting that the God described in the pages of the Bible sounds remarkably human? This God is, at times, almost too human. The Christians will say, "Well, it's not that he is like us, it's that we are like him because he created us in his image." Well, being as objective as we can possibly be, let us ask which is more likely: that God in all his perfection still somehow displays remarkably human traits such as jealousy, irritation, racism, homophobia, forgetfulness, waffling decisions (his conversation with Lot, for example), political agendas, pettiness, impatience, and impulsive actions (I can produce the scripture to back all of these adjectives up, if you so challenge me to do so)...OR that this entity isn't really "God" at all but is rather a human manifestation of a God, no different than Zeus or Thor or any of the rest of them? Furthermore, if this image of God as portrayed in the Bible is accurate, is this really the image you want to be created in? Do you really want to be created in the image of a bloodthirsty ethnic cleanser? (Perhaps you do. If so, cheerio, my good man.)

Consider also that if the Biblical God is an accurate portrayal, then the believing Christian is stuck with what I call the "Flood Conundrum." What is the Flood Conundrum? This:

The Flood Conundrum:

1. God creates humanity.
2. God knows ahead of time that they will sin.
3. God also knows ahead of time that he will pay for this sin through the life, death, blood, and resurrection of his son (Jesus Christ).
4. Even while knowing ahead of time that their sins will ultimately be taken care of, God can no longer stand the sins of humans, even though he also knew ahead of time that their sinfulness would be just as it is.
5. God wipes out humanity with a flood (saving only 8 humans and the animals) because he cannot stand their sins.
6. CONCLUSION? At the exact moment God was creating humans he also knew that he would wipe them out with a flood (after all, God is supposed to be omniscient). Thus, knowing this, God created humans with the express intention of killing them in a flood. There is no other conclusion that can be reached.

The God described in the pages of the Bible sounds remarkably human? This God is, at times, almost too human.So, here we clearly have a God behaving in an un-God-like way. Here we have a God who has foreknowledge of certain events (he must have foreknowledge if he is all-knowing) but who continues with his actions regardless of that knowledge. This would be the exact same as me luring a girl into my basement with kindness all while knowing ahead of time that once she is down there I'm going to chain her up and kill her. Christians will say this a gross over-simplification of the matter. Is it really? If God clearly knew ahead of time that the sacrifice of Jesus would ultimately answer sin, then why does he lose his cool on the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah? How were they any more sinful than any other place where humans congregated? What made them such particularly bad cities as to earn the fate they earned? Why did he kill the man who accidentally touched the Ark of the Covenant? Did that particular sin (how petty can God be, anyway?) somehow not qualify under Jesus' sacrifice (which had not happened yet chronologically but which God knew, even at this time, would happen)? Did the people of Sodom and Gomorrah somehow not fall under the divine plan of Jesus' redemption? Did the people who perished in the genocidal flood somehow not fall into this plan? Was the sacrifice of Jesus for ALL humanity, as the Bible says it was, or not? And if it was, doesn't this make the flood superfluous, capricious, and malevolently barbaric? Can a capricious and malevolent entity qualify as "God?" No.

I say all of this because the Biblical God cannot be God. It is infinitely impossible. This is why I am an atheist. And since I know the Biblical God cannot be God, I also have a pretty good idea that the entire pantheon of gods humans have worshiped over the centuries is likely just as farcical. Thus, regarding any human manifestation of "God," my default position is and will remain atheist.

However, a crucial distinction needs to be made. There is a sense in which all human beings, be they believers or atheists or something else, are agnostic. What is agnosticism? It merely means "having no knowledge of." Okay, so we must observe, then, that even Christians are agnostic in a sense. How so? If they actually knew for a fact that the doctrines they believe were true, faith wouldn't be required at all. Take away faith and the entire structure of Christianity comes crashing down. The presence of faith must therefore imply that you don't actually have a final knowledge of that in which you believe. The same is true of the atheist. The atheist has concluded that the human pantheon of gods is absurd (this is what makes him an atheist), but he does not have nor can he have a final knowledge of what "might" be out there. All humans, therefore, are agnostic. They don't know what is actually out there, because they themselves have never been "out there."

A beloved friend of mine recently said this to me: "The evidence screams a Creator." Maybe she is right. Maybe she is wrong. Science is still unraveling these matters and the jury is very much still "out" (and let's be honest, the jury is going to stay out on this one, because a finite answer, one way or the other, isn't possible under the current laws of physics). At any rate, does the evidence scream a Creator? As a fair minded individual, I can see the arguments for both sides. Both camps have convincing material at their disposal which can be wielded at will. Who is right? Usually, it is "us" that is right, and "them" that are wrong.

The heart of this issue, though, is this: even if the evidence does scream a Creator, how justified is any one human in inserting his or her [God] into that blank slot? In a sense, that's like saying this: "The evidence screams a Creator, and I know who it is." Oh really? You know, do you? At least the atheist can be humble enough to admit that he doesn't know. The atheist does know this, though: if there is a Creator-Being out there (and there very well could be; it may even be somewhat likely), this entity must not resemble anything we could conjure or imagine. It, whatever it is, must certainly not embody the all too human and contradictory traits of the Biblical God. To go on thinking so is to flat out refuse to see the writing on the wall. Digging in your heals for the sake of faith may make you feel real nice on the inside, but it does not help the progression of the population at large. It is time to begin seeing the Christian God for what the pages of the Bible openly portray him to be: absurd.

"Honest Atheism"

By WizenedSage (Galen Rose) ~

In the article “Honest Atheism” by D. Cameron Webb, in the Dec. 2014/Jan. 2015 issue of Free Inquiry magazine, the author concludes that atheists are unlikely to win many converts so long as their description of death is “certain annihilation.” And, he argues that since we cannot be 100% certain that annihilation awaits us at death, then the honest answer to what happens to us when we die is, “I have no friggin’ idea.”

Overall, this is a great article which I heartily recommend, but I must take issue with his conclusion. I don’t think it’s being honest to hold out a scrap of hope that annihilation can be avoided, given the overwhelming evidence to the contrary; nor do I think it necessarily makes atheism less attractive to theists, so long as “certain annihilation” is packaged in the right words.

Okay, I can’t prove with 100% certainty that death brings annihilation, but let’s take a look at the evidence. The evidence is everywhere and uncontroversial that when the brain is not functioning at a high level, we are unconscious, unaware of our existence. We prove this every night when we sleep. Below a certain threshold of functionality, we lose awareness and lose it totally.

And dreaming? Well, dreaming has been shown to be just one step higher in brain functionality. That is, when we dream, we are not always fully unconscious, we just don’t have a firm grasp of reality. Sometimes, we can even be aware that we are dreaming and can consciously affect the plot of the story we are dreaming. At other times, we can be aware that we are sleeping, at least dimly, and consciously struggle to awaken. But these sleep states involve brain activity that is almost conscious and semi-aware. Most of the time that we are asleep, and operating at a lower level of brain functionality, we are totally unconscious and not at all aware.

There are several other conditions which provide evidence that “certain annihilation” awaits us at death. If one is struck in the head one may go unconscious. That is, the brain ceases to function at a high level and awareness is lost. The same thing happens to us under general anesthesia; the drugs we are given cause brain function to reduce to a low level and we become unconscious, unable to feel pain. Sometimes, as in a car accident when massive injuries are sustained, as a protective mechanism the brain will cease to function at a high level and one becomes unconscious, and may even slip into a coma, a very low level functionality involving a state of unawareness where there is no pain. Modern medicine sometimes makes use of this property of the brain by intentionally inducing a coma to eliminate pain awareness in the patient.

Thus we see, over and over, in many situations, that unless the brain is functioning at a high level, it loses consciousness and, with it, the ability to feel pain. Now, when a human dies, his brain ceases to function at a high level and this is proven by EKG analysis. In fact, complete lack of brain activity is a functional definition of death.

Now, what about near-death experiences (NDE)? Many people have related all sorts of details of what purportedly lies beyond death in NDE’s. The most obvious objection to these stories is that near-death is simply not death; in fact, they are two totally different states, like water and ice, and there is no reason to expect near-death to tell us anything useful or accurate about death.

And what of those who have claimed to actually die and then recover (and sometimes written books about the experience)? The answer is pathetically simple: memories cannot be formed in a dead brain. If all electrical activity in a brain has ceased, and the EKG has flat lined, then memories are not being made. Thus, whatever the claimant is relating is not a memory of a dead state. Dead eyes do not see, dead hearts do not beat, and dead brains do not think or make memories.

Near-death is simply not death; in fact, they are two totally different states, like water and ice, and there is no reason to expect near-death to tell us anything useful or accurate about death.Now, does it really make sense to say we don’t know what happens when we die, given that there is a mountain of evidence that shows that when the brain ceases to function at a high level we lose consciousness and, at very low functionality, the ability to feel pain? Now, since death has been proven beyond a shadow of doubt to involve loss of brain function, isn’t it pretty certain that what happens to us is we lose awareness? Is there even the slightest reason to suspect that awareness can survive brain death, that annihilation can be avoided? Where is the evidence? True, I can’t prove my argument conclusively, 100%, since none of us can die, truly die, and then come back to report on it (not even Jesus). But, by any reasonable standard of proof, such as the American courtroom standard of “beyond a reasonable doubt,” when you’re dead then you have no awareness. It’s as simple as that.

Now, the question becomes, is this a reason to be afraid of atheism? Should “certain annihilation” be a deal breaker for a theist considering atheism? Mr. Webb argues that it is; that atheism will win few converts if all we can offer is “certain annihilation.” But is annihilation really so bad?

True, a fear of death is built into us by nature. Without the will to survive a species will not endure the struggles of life to propagate and rear its young. But, this doesn’t need to be a constant fear. Let’s face it, unless we are very old or sick, we spend a very, very small percentage of our time thinking about death. And does it really make sense to fear “certain annihilation” if all that means is loss of awareness, something we experience practically every night of our lives? With no awareness there is no longing, no regret, no sadness, no fear, and no pain. So what’s so bad about that?

So, how does this honest atheist answer the question, “What happens when we die?” I answer that ALL of the empirical evidence suggests we simply lose awareness, and a deep sleep involves no discomfort. Now why should that, in itself, turn a theist away from atheism?

Did Thomas Jefferson Actually Call the Bible a Dung Hill?

By Valerie Tarico ~

American Founding Father Thomas Jefferson, who authored the Declaration of Independence and served as the third president of the United States, also took a pair of scissors to the Bible, publishing a thin volume of the parts he thought worth keeping. The original Jefferson Bible exists to this day, and is available online. But did Jefferson actually call the Good Book a dunghill, like some say?

The answer to that question is kind of yes, kind of no.

Yes, Jefferson thought that most of the Bible was, in modern vernacular, a load of crap, and yes, he did, by way of analogy, use the term “dunghill.” No question: If Barack Obama repeated Jefferson’s words, conservative Republicans would leap to their feet no matter how much t.p. they were trailing, and Fox News would stir the latrine, and the Religious Right in unison would loose a loud, flatulent eruption against Obama, cursing him to the sulfurous steam vents of Hell for calling the Bible a pile of poo.

The dunghill would hit the fan.

But this is now and that was then, so stick with me for the other half of the answer, which requires some context and the words of Jefferson himself.

By comparison with some of Thomas Paine’s comments about the Bible, Jefferson’s critique was parlor talk. Jefferson saw himself as part of a dignified and righteous endeavor—a cadre of scholarly men working to extract the Real Rabbi from layers of mythology and superstition that congealed during the first and second centuries of Christianity. The analogy he used was separating dung from diamonds, and the words he kept—the diamonds--were the ones he thought to be authentic teachings of Jesus.

Jefferson’s quest to extract the man from the myth—the quest for the historical Jesus-- is one that continues today.

Christians have never agreed on who or what Jesus was, which is one reason Christianity fragmented into over 30,000 denominations and non-denominations. In the beginning, Jesus worship featured small conflicting and splintering sects that scholar Bart Ehrman calls Lost Christianities. In the last 200 years, quarrelling theologians have been joined by legions of secular scholars—linguists, cultural anthropologists, antiquarians, hobbyist historians, creative writing professors, and even mental health professionals—each touting a version of the man behind the myth or questioning whether there actually was one.

Ironically, some of the first recorded attempts to differentiate Jesus-fiction from Jesus-fact were the Church councils that produced our modern Bible by declaring some early Christian writings to be divine in origin and others heretical. These councils lacked the tools of modern analysis, and their approach would be considered crude and naïve by today’s standards. Also most participants went into their committee meetings with a bias: that the kind of Jesus worship that had emerged in the center of political power—Rome—was the right kind. Committee members declared a “book” of writings in or out depending on whether the author claimed a close relationship with Jesus and whether the book aligned with the Roman variant of Christianity.

Convinced that they had separated divine revelation from dross, Church authorities sealed the “canon” or contents of the Bible, and as the Roman Church expanded with the Roman Empire, heretical texts and believers were burned. The first Christian crusade was not against Muslims, but against a sect of Christians, Albigenses, who were deemed heretics.

By Jefferson’s day, the Enlightenment prevailed. The Protestant Reformation, two centuries earlier, had left the Bible itself largely intact (after excising the books that Protestants call Apocrypha) and, in fact, had vastly elevated its authority. But the American founding fathers and many intellectuals of their time no longer saw the gospels as gospel truth. Many were deists, who believed that spiritual truths are better found in the study of nature and the application of reason than in sacred texts. Jefferson, a man of his time, was no fan of Christian theologies or theologians, as excerpts from some of his letters make clear:

• “On the dogmas of religion, as distinguished from moral principles, all mankind, from the beginning of the world to this day, have been quarreling, fighting, burning and torturing one another, for abstractions unintelligible to themselves and to all others, and absolutely beyond the comprehension of the human mind. Were I to enter on that arena, I should only add an unit to the number of Bedlamites.” --- To Carey, 1816: N. Y. Pub Lib., MS, IV, 409
• “It is too late in the day for men of sincerity to pretend they believe in the Platonic mysticisms that three are one, and one is three; and yet that the one is not three, and the three are not one . . . But this constitutes the craft, the power and the profit of the priests. Sweep away their gossamer fabrics of factitious religion, and they would catch no more flies. We should all then, like the Quakers, live without an order of priests, moralize for ourselves, follow the oracle of conscience, and say nothing about what no man can understand, nor therefore believe.” --- To John Adams, 1813
• “Ridicule is the only weapon which can be used against unintelligible propositions. Ideas must be distinct before reason can act upon them; and no man ever had a distinct idea of the trinity. It is mere Abracadabra of the mountebanks calling themselves the priests of Jesus.” --- To Van der Kemp, 1816
• “The priests have so disfigured the simple religion of Jesus that no one who reads the sophistications they have engrafted on it, from the jargon of Plato, of Aristotle and other mystics, would conceive these could have been fathered on the sublime preacher of the Sermon on the Mount.” --- To Dr. Waterhouse, 1815
• “Fix reason firmly in her seat, and call to her tribunal every fact, every opinion. Question with boldness even the existence of God; because if there be one he must more approve of the homage of reason than that of blindfolded fear.” ---To Peter Carr, 1787

However, despite his distaste for organized religion and nonsense, Jefferson never questioned whether Jesus himself was a real historical character or an inspiring role model. In fact, it was these two assumptions that led to his comment about dung in letters to James Madison and W. Short:

But the greatest of all reformers of the depraved religion of his own country, was Jesus of Nazareth. Abstracting what is really his from the rubbish in which it is buried, easily distinguished by its lustre from the dross of his biographers, and as separable from that as the diamond from the dunghill, we have the outlines of a system of the most sublime morality which has ever fallen from the lips of man. --- To W. Short, Oct. 31, 1819

In the New Testament there is internal evidence that parts of it have proceeded from an extraordinary man; and that other parts are of the fabric of very inferior minds. It is as easy to separate those parts, as to pick out diamonds from dunghills. –- To John Adams, 1804

Jefferson saw himself as part of a dignified and righteous endeavor—a cadre of scholarly men working to extract the Real Rabbi from layers of mythology and superstition that congealed during the first and second centuries of Christianity.To Jefferson’s mind, Jesus was a wise and beneficent moral teacher. The dross was the fabric of mythic stories that made him into a magical being, stories like the virgin birth, miracle healings, and the resurrection. He also loathed what he saw as superstition buried in Christian teachings about sin and salvation—the idea that we all are born into sin because of Adam and Eve, for example, or that a special few, the “elect” are chosen for an eternity in Heaven.

For Jefferson, as for hundreds of millions of people through history, the figure of Jesus became an inkblot test, a character drawn with enough ambiguity that he could project his own sense of what was right and good. Modern he-men have depicted Jesus as a body builder—a model for muscular Christianity. One well-heeled Evangelical preacher called him a guy you’d like to play golf with. Liberals talk about him as a friend to the poor. Conservatives as a righteous judge. As an educated man of the Enlightenment and a rebel against the British crown, Jefferson saw Jesus as a benevolent man of reason, killed ultimately not for our sins but for sedition. His Jesus was a mirror of his own aspirations—the values he sought in himself and the country he helped to found. The diamonds.

Would Jefferson have used the term dunghill in an analogy about the Bible if he were alive today? Certainly not from the White House, not if he had any sense of self-preservation.

On the other hand, a modern intellectual of his caliber might think of a dunghill as a treasure trove. Biologists sift through old dung to learn about who and what passed by before us, about the species mix and ecological conditions or agriculture and human flourishing. Sanitation experts increasingly think of dung as a valuable commodity. Yes, it is full of pathogens, but it's also full of precious soil nutrients if we can simply figure out how to sterilize them and separate them out from the other kinds of waste that have less value.

Thomas Jefferson’s analogy may have been more fitting than he knew.

Valerie Tarico is a psychologist and writer in Seattle, Washington. She is the author of Trusting Doubt: A Former Evangelical Looks at Old Beliefs in a New Light and Deas and Other Imaginings, and the founder of www.WisdomCommons.org. Her articles about religion, reproductive health, and the role of women in society have been featured at sites including AlterNet, Salon, the Huffington Post, Grist, and Jezebel. Subscribe at ValerieTarico.com.

How a Believer Becomes an Atheist

Ben Love ~

I’m not sure if you think this or not, but just in case you do, let’s set something straight: no one just wakes up one day and says, "Oh, by the way, I'm an atheist from now on." That never happens. Never.

Now, it's true that some people are born that way because their family or their culture rears them in that mindset, but I'm referring to the person who spent years and years and years as a believer in God. This person doesn't just change his mind one day. It's a long, grueling process that starts from within rather than from without. What I mean by that is this: while there are vocal atheists speaking out about their conclusions, there really isn't any sort of atheist evangelism going on, by which I mean you're not normally accosted on street corners and in parking lots by atheists armed with pamphlets and preachy pushing. While it's true that atheists usually unite with other atheists once they've become one, their journey toward atheism is almost always a solitary one, a private unraveling on the inside---and it usually takes place over a period of years. And most of the time, no one in their life knows what's going on until the atheist comes forward and admits (usually with apprehension and fear of the fallout) that he or she is an atheist.

Atheism is usually born out of a sequence of events, a domino effect of one step leading to another: 1) questioning one's faith; 2) disliking the answers; 3) seeking better answers; 4) adopting reason as the best methodology to seek those answers; 5) using that methodology to follow the evidence (or lack thereof), and 6) arriving at an atheistic conclusion. Now, not everyone who does this ends up becoming an atheist; I'm only saying that this is usually how those who do become atheists arrive there. Also of note is this: when the seeking pilgrim begins moving through that aforementioned sequence of events, he most likely did not start out thinking or even expecting that atheism was going to be the final destination. He likely had honest questions, sincere misgivings about how A, B, or C just didn't line up with what he was taught to be true. It's usually because he believes so fervently in his religious creeds and doctrines that these various discrepancies bother him. Why do they bother him? Because he knows in his heart and in his mind that 2 plus 2 never equals 5, and all the faith in the world will never make this so (he can train himself to believe it on a certain level, because faith can be quite persuasive, but a part of him will always know that 2 plus 2 equals 4). And so, because there is a chasm between what he knows must be true and what he's taught is true, he cannot reconcile these in his heart and mind---and until he can, one way or another, he cannot go on doing what he's been doing because to do so would be insincere and the height of hypocrisy.

So what is he to do? Well, he has a few choices. 1) he can pretend there is no problem (but as we've already observed, insincerity is anathema to him); 2) he can admit there is a problem but then shrug his shoulders and say, "God knows more than I do; therefore even God can make 2 plus 2 equal 5, because he's God, even the impossible is possible to him," and then get on with his faith, or 3) he can square with the problem and address it accordingly. Now, am I saying that anyone who addresses the problems and questions they have with their faith will end up becoming an atheist? No. I'm only saying that for those believers who did become atheists, this is how it starts.

Atheism is usually born out of a sequence of events, a domino effect of one step leading to another: 1) questioning one's faith; 2) disliking the answers; 3) seeking better answers; 4) adopting reason as the best methodology to seek those answers; 5) using that methodology to follow the evidence (or lack thereof), and 6) arriving at an atheistic conclusion. Question: do you think that those atheists who were once fervent believers had an easy time with the transition? Do you think it was a simple flick of a wand that turned them overnight into the exact opposite of what they were the day before? To think this is to grossly underestimate the power of faith. Faith is an extremely potent psychological element. Furthermore, faith itself comes with its own built-in protection clause: since the gods, or “God,” in this case, value only your faith (what you do, good or bad, doesn’t matter; it’s what you believe that counts), the believer therefore, whatever else he might do, cannot relinquish his faith. Why not? Think about it: if you can only please God by possessing faith, then possessing faith becomes the only factor that matters. Thus, that which is contrary to reason, however strong and convincing it might be, must bow down to your faith, otherwise you displease God. It’s an ongoing loop: Faith pleases God; I therefore must keep my faith, because faith pleases God, I want to please God, I must therefore keep…” In other words, to believe in God is to want to please him, and you please him by believing in him. Thus, faith has its own self-protection. You can only lose your faith by letting go of it, but you cannot let go of it, otherwise you’re in the hot seat.

The atheist punched his way out of this loop. But that doesn’t mean it was easy. The beauty of the Faith-by-Fear system is that you constantly gain proponents but end up losing very few. Psychological fear is quite powerful, after all. But those few (didn’t Jesus once say something about a narrow road?) saw that it was the system itself that was the problem. It was the loop itself that created the discord that caused them to question everything in the first place. To punch through that system and break free, therefore, requires a tremendous amount of mental fortitude, a fierce desire for truth, a violent lust for life, and sheer guts.

Having said all of this, let me say a few words to my Christian friends out there who may be reading this. Consider this: you may not respect the atheist for being what he is and for concluding what he concluded, but I hope you can at least respect that the road he had to walk to become what he is now was a long, arduous, painful, and lonely road. There are very few atheists out there that didn’t become atheist without having to fight unspeakable mental and emotional battles. Disrespect their lack of belief all you want, but for the love of the God you say you believe in, respect their journey. The odds are it was born out of a severe, sincere, obsessive need to know the truth.

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Family Coping: the Leprechaun Technique and other Holiday Tips

(This is a chapter in the ebook by Marlene Winell and Valerie Tarico, Heretic Holidays: Tips from Two Religious Renegades)

By Marlene Winell, Ph.D.

At this time of year it’s hard to avoid dealing with the differences you have with your family. If you are a “reclaimer” (reclaiming your life after being religious) who has been raised in a religious household, holiday times can be very uncomfortable when other family members are still devout. Having worked through these issues with many clients, here are a few guidelines that might be helpful.

I’ll start by suggesting you write in a journal, starting now and continuing through the holidays. This can help you sort through jumbled thoughts and emotions, stay on track with how you are trying to handle things, take care of yourself, and learn. There are exercises here to prompt your thinking.

In general, if you plan to be with family at this time, it helps a great deal to approach the holidays with a high level of consciousness. In other words, don’t just blindly go home for Christmas, hoping it will be fine. What do you really expect it might be like? This refers to both external factors and how you will feel. What experiences have you had so far with your family? What have you found to work or not work in getting along? Write something about this in your journal.

Sometimes reclaimers simply avoid going home in order to avoid conflict. At times this is the only healthy course of action. But sometimes, by planning ahead, it can be possible to navigate around the land mines. The difference in this approach, compared to simply not showing up, is that you are acting out of reasoned choice and not out of fear or anger.

In the process of recovering from the harm done by religious indoctrination, most people reach a point at which they must weigh “coming out” as a nonbeliever because the tension of “integrity vs. intimacy” becomes too much. That is, the urge to be true to oneself becomes stronger than the need for approval required to stay close to family members. It does not need to happen right away, and can take a variety of forms. However, holiday time puts pressure on your relationships, and it could raise this question for you. If you haven’t already, spend some time thinking about whether this is the time to come out with family. It may or may not be. There are also degrees of being “out” and probably different family members to consider being more or less open with about your new thoughts and feelings.

Here’s a basic plan for coping. There are external action items, as well as internal or mental techniques. You may notice a bonus here, which is that there are great lessons to learn that apply to your growth and recovery generally.

Preparation

Clarify Intention

As you think about what you want to do, realize that you do not have an obligation to spend holiday time with family. (What?) If you commit not to do anything out of guilt or obligation, this will make it easier to choose what amount of contact you want and what form it will take. You need to let your parents take responsibility for their own feelings, which are often the result of choices they have made in their own lives. It doesn’t mean you have to be unkind. You can certainly be empathic in your expression, such as, “I know you would like me to be home for Christmas and this is a surprise, and I’m sorry you feel disappointed. At the same time, spending it on my own this year is what I feel is best for me, and I’m hoping you will accept that.”

You can also suggest alternative plans for what you think is workable – the number of days, phone contact instead, inviting them to your place, etc. If this sounds like you being the grown-up, that’s right. Especially if you are in early stages of recovering from religion, you are learning about taking care of yourself. In the language I use for this, your Adult self is learning to take charge and care for your Child self. You are no longer considering yourself helpless, weak, stupid, or basically bad. You don’t need saving and you don’t need to outsource your needs for guidance and love to a god or church. This is great and freeing; it’s also a big responsibility. When you go visit your parents, your Adult absolutely needs to take good care of your Child. Otherwise, it is all too easy to regress to a childlike state and have problems fairly immediately.

Let me explain a bit more about this, because this is a powerful coping strategy. Your Adult is the part of you that can think rationally, have intention, and plan ahead. It’s also the part that can nurture and care for your Child self by advocating for your Child’s needs. So, before you even start on this visit, you, as an adult, can think about your Intention for this visit. Do you want it to be a jolly Christmas just like when you were a kid, with Santa and hot chocolate? Are you going to church on Christmas Eve? Why or why not? How will you handle it? Will you be discussing your beliefs? Do you want any religion at all? Why do you want to go? What are you hoping for that is actually possible? What are you willing to let go of that is not possible? Do you want to engage in debates? Will you be “coming out”? If you are asked about who you are now or what you believe, how will you answer?

Writing exercise: Write out your intentions for your visit.

Self-care

Now, as you know, the best of intentions don’t always work out. That’s why you feel nervous. In the self-care terminology I’m using, it’s your Child that’s scared, and it’s my opinion that your real obligation is to make sure that your Child feels safe, both before and during the visit. (This usage of “Child” refers to the natural, innocent, child-like, emotional aspect of you that requires love and care, and is vulnerable. It was not sinful at birth, and when healed from abusive indoctrination, can be happy and healthy.) This might mean taking breaks in order to self-soothe with some positive self-talk. Ultimately, it would include promising to simply leave if the situation became too uncomfortable. I always explain to my clients that as they are healing, the trust between Adult and Child needs to strengthen, so a good thing is to promise your Child that you will take her/him away if a situation gets bad or painful, just like you would a real child who was struggling.

Christmas is often a little tender for an inner child since there might be memories of good things, sadness over losses, or confusion at this time. If you spend a little time consulting your Child about what aspects of the holiday you still want to experience, what do you find? Making cookies? Writing cards to family and friends? Singing? Playing in the snow? Cutting paper snow flakes? If you want to avoid the commercialism of too much gift buying, are there substitutes you prefer? If you are not just a victim of the holiday, what might you accept or arrange for your little self to enjoy? Or what would you help others enjoy? For ideas about celebrating and reclaiming the Christmas holiday as a nonbeliever, go Here for a good article by Valerie Tarico.

Imagining various scenarios, what do you think your options might be if you get overwhelmed by your relatives’ religious talk? Can you excuse yourself, take a break, change the subject, focus on something else? Do you need to bring anything along to help? A game or puzzle?

Writing exercise: Write a letter to your Child from your Adult self, explaining how you will provide protection during the visit, and promising to leave if necessary. Describe the fun things that will be included. Talk about what you will do if you are getting triggered by too much religiosity. Make a list of options you will have ready.

Reframe the Religion

Especially if your family is very devout and authoritarian about their beliefs, you need to have a way of thinking about their religion that is different from the way you did as a child. That may sound obvious because intellectually you have decided you don’t believe any more. However, when in the situation, you may respond emotionally, and even intensely. This is not because you have reverted to “believing” but because you can be triggered at a gut level to fear that it is true. Rethinking this belief system is a larger task of recovery that can take time and work, and is very important. For now, the challenge is to be in your old environment and not slip into being your old self or be intimidated by old forces. You can prepare by thinking about what this religion is – e.g., a belief system like many other ancient systems that has evolved to help people cope with what they don’t understand, a virus, a meme complex, etc. Anything but The Truth. Even if it feels true because everyone around you is treating it like the truth. Hundreds of years ago everyone believed the earth was flat, it looked flat, and it felt flat. But that wasn’t true either.

Thinking about the religion as the source of the conflict, difference, pain, and separation in your family (or at least part of it), may help you feel less direct anger or frustration with the people involved. As a virus, religion propagates by getting passed on to small children, and continues through generations. Essentially, your parents were infected and thus victims as well. They did not have these religious ideas at birth, and even now, they each have an inner child too (weird, huh?) You were fortunate to escape, and also to be congratulated for finding your way out! A holiday visit is probably not the time to go deep into family work, so I’m not suggesting you look for understanding each other, find forgiveness, or anything else that is complicated. However, just knowing that your family members did not invent this very pernicious system might help you relax and have a bit of compassion. It does mean that you did not suffer or that your issues will not ever be addressed.

Writing exercise: Before you head for a family get-together, write about how you conceptualize your religion now, and review your reasons for leaving. How does it feel to view your relatives in the context of larger forces?

Communicate clearly with family

After sorting through all your thoughts and feelings, you need to state clearly to your relatives your intentions for your time together. This is before you leave home. I suggest this be done simply and from the heart, and say more, not less. Include all of your feelings – your nervousness, your hesitation, your hopes, your fears, your love, your clarity about limits. It helps to write it down first, or rehearse it with someone. Here’s an example. You would alter it to suit you of course. I’ve written it as if a monologue, but it would be broken up to allow the other person to speak.

“Hi Mom, I’ve been trying to decide what to do about Christmas and this is hard for me to talk about. I’m a bit worried I don’t have the right words, so please be patient with me here. (deep breath). The last thing I want to do is upset you, and I know that you might have to get used to what’s happening with me. I’ve changed so much and not always comfortable being around family. . . I’m sure you went through a lot of growing up changes when you were my age too. . . . I hope you can understand. . . anyway I do want to see you guys and I want to have a nice time. I love you. I know you want to see me. . . I won’t be staying for a full week like usual; it’ll just be three days. . . I just need a bit of time for myself this year. . . yes, I can hear that you are disappointed, and I’m sorry about that. . . I do want to make the time we have together the best we can, and I have some suggestions about that. We always enjoy hikes in the woods so lets remember to do that, ok?

And here’s something important - I’d like to keep our conversations to what we are doing in our regular lives, and of course chat about what we are doing together in the moment, like making your famous pecan pie, which I want to learn, by the way. I’d like to stay away from religion for now since I’m sorting that out for myself and I’m not comfortable discussing it. I know that this isn’t easy for you but I’m hoping you can accept it so that I can feel relaxed. . . I certainly don’t want to be avoiding you or avoiding a visit on Christmas. I just have to be honest, you know? Also, I won’t be going to church on Christmas Eve. But I’d love to babysit the grandkids and play games with them while you are out. Do you have any more ideas? Anything you’d like me to bring?”

Naturally, you would be pausing to listen to let the other party speak and respond with empathy. That is, gently and with understanding rephrase what you have heard so they know that you are listening. At the end of the call, it’s okay to ask them to repeat back to you what you have said, e.g. “Could you do something for me before we finish? This is important to me and I’ll be much more relaxed if I feel sure I’ve communicated well. Could you please repeat back to me what you think I’m asking so I can know if I’ve been clear?” And of course, “Thank-you, I appreciate it,” etc.

Writing exercise: Write out what you want to say to your family when you discuss your holiday plans.

Support

As a virus, religion propagates by getting passed on to small children, and continues through generations. Essentially, your parents were infected and thus victims as well. Have a buddy. While you prepare for this visit, talk it over with someone who understands. This may be a fellow “reclaimer” or just a good friend. They can help by role-playing your phone conversation with family and also be there to listen to just your side of the conversation. This helps you to see yourself in part through their eyes rather than just through the eyes of the person on the other end of the call.

During your family visit as well, it’s a good idea to arrange to have someone available to you to talk and get support. At a time of stress, you might well benefit from calling this friend.

Back-up plan. If you know that the visit might not go well, and you might have to leave in order to take care of yourself, plan ahead for what you will do. Set up a clear plan for where you will go and what pleasant activities you have in mind.

Writing exercise: Describe what you will do instead if your family visit ends early.

During the Visit

Maintain intention

Bring along your journal and have your written intention handy to reread to remind yourself. You will probably need this. Most people find it challenging to stay “Adult” when certain situations call for it. Being with religious family is usually one of them. This is not to say your Child cannot play and hopefully there will be opportunity for that. But to stay safe, and feel like you are maintaining who you are now, rereading your intentions will help. You can add to the journaling of course, and you will notice developments. One of them will be to relate to family members with new awareness. You may have some new compassion for a cousin who seem stuck in the faith, for example. Or you may see how your mother obeys your father and represses her own expression. If your intention is “to spend some quality time with close family members and keep connected,” you can concentrate on that and not drift into debates.

Staying with your intentions may also include repeating yourself to others. What you said at the beginning before coming to the holiday gathering may need restating, to more than one person, and more than one time. If you aren’t afraid to do this, and express yourself with both compassion and assertiveness, your sense of self will begin to feel more self-defined and less vulnerable.

Step Back

Play anthropologist. Once you have recognized that religion is a huge meme complex that takes on a power of its own, you can view people within that system from that perspective. Other reclaimers I’ve known have found it very useful to visit family and maintain some distance by pretending to have the viewpoint of an anthropologist. This attitude is nonjudgmental, curious, and unemotional. An anthropologist often takes the role of “participant observer” in order to gain access to a group, and learn about their customs. So you can watch everyone bow their heads, close their eyes and speak to an imaginary being, and find that very interesting without freaking out. They might all go off to celebrate the child of this imaginary being who was born thousands of years ago, and has somehow saved them. Fascinating. The songs are also quite amazing in the stories they tell.

Writing exercise: As a social scientist, describe in your journal what you are learning about this culture you are observing. Let yourself enjoy the quirky things you are noticing.

Translate the words. Now sometimes it can get more personal, and that when it’s more challenging. How do you feel when you are asked, “Where are you fellowshipping now?” We forget how arbitrary the Christian symbols and terms are in the vast array of mythological options. How about the Greek gods or Atlantis or Rama and Sita? What about Australian “little people,” Irish leprechauns, and faeries? You can diffuse the heavy loading of Christian language by translating words in your head. When your father asks you, “How’s your walk with the Lord?”, you can hear “How’s your walk with the leprechaun king?” and “When did you go to church last?” translates “When did you last dance with the faeries in the moonlight?” If they read the Bible together, you can see them in a cave poring over ancient leprechaun scriptures. Of course they believe all of it, and you won’t be able to convince them otherwise. More importantly, you don’t need to get scared, or even angry. When you reply, “That’s not really part of my life anymore,” you can do so calmly, as if you just don’t make treks into the forest to see fairies at midnight any longer.

Writing exercise: Describe what it is like to reinterpret Christian messages and respond accordingly.

It’s not all about you. Much as these relationship issues may hurt, the truth is that it’s not personal. Religion itself causes separation between people, it causes dogmatism, and it makes it very difficult for people to listen, change, or learn. This religion your family has is much bigger than you. So if you do not take it personally, you will be much happier. Try to breathe and bring some equanimity to the situation, knowing that you have done nothing wrong.

Step Up

Stay with your values. Regardless of what is happening, do what you want to do because that is what you have decided. For example, if everyone wants to do more shopping, and you want some fun time with the children, choose that. Reclaim your holiday. Remember why you decided to make the visit. Do what brings you and others joy and meaning.

Connect as humans. That may sound funny but the truth is religious people develop dual personalities. One lives in a “spiritual” world of angels and demons and worries about sin and an afterlife. The other is an ordinary human being like you and me who likes to eat good food, needs love, watches movies, appreciates sunsets, hates traffic jams, and will help rescue a kitten. That person likes compliments, wants to feel needed, etc. There are personality differences, but basic human needs are the same and you can stick to this human level as you relate. In fact, I’ve found that many religious people actually appreciate being treated in a deeply genuine way. Like everyone else, they like to be heard, they want to matter, and they need to have their thoughts and feelings count. So the best way to get along, believe it or not, is to ignore their religion. Simply focus on the human side of life, and if they bring up religious things, bring it back to reality. If that doesn’t work, take a break, and/or repeat your intention like I describe in the beginning.

Let go of approval. A leftover from religious training is to judge absolutely everything. This includes evaluating yourself, and being concerned about what other people think. Yet, you’ll find that it is extremely liberating to do what you consider the right thing to do simply because it fits with your identity and your integrity. We often want others to appreciate us when we do good things. And in this case, if you are working very hard to become the person you really want to be, it would be nice to get acceptance, if not approval. But if you let go of that you can get satisfaction from choosing to act in harmony with your new, self-chosen values regardless of others’ reaction. Then, if your family sees you and understands you, great. If not, you have done a marvelous thing by just being with them and being yourself. It also helps to not take yourself too seriously. Don’t forget to enjoy the lighter side of your connections with others.

A word of caution and congratulations

Don’t set yourself up to do everything well. You will do some things well and other things will go awry. If all went seamlessly, that would be weird. If you have to leave early, that is fine. Go to Plan B like you planned and enjoy yourself. Take care of your Child above all.

If there is a family blow-up, so be it. Everything is process. No matter what, you and everyone else will learn. Sometimes intense emotions just have to be expressed. Sometimes family crises just have to happen, just like forest fires are a natural part of a cycle. It’s no one’s fault. It certainly helps to hang on to your sense of humor. No matter what, you are on a journey, and you are growing and healing and reclaiming your life.

Writing exercise: Don’t miss out on lessons learned. Write about what this was like for you and how you grew from the experience. In addition to the serious bits, include the funny parts.

Dealing with your family during the holidays is a step in your journey. It takes courage to recover from religion so again, I congratulate you.

Life Without God

By Ben Love ~

Received an interesting message from an old friend tonight. Among other things, he said he has been keeping track of my journey from his vantage point way out in Portland, Oregon. While still a fervent believer in Jesus (this guy is the real deal, by the way), he said that much of what I've had to say of late has resonated with some of his own personal doubts. Then, toward the end of the email, he asked me this: "So how is life without God?"

What is interesting to me is that of all the many Christians who have taken issue with my recent confession of atheism (and my vocal rants that have accompanied it), this was the first time a Christian genuinely asked me what life was like on the other side. I suspect most Christians either do not want to know, couldn't handle the answer, or just don't care since it's something about which that they're perhaps not the least bit curious. And that is just fine. Nevertheless, I did appreciate the question from this dear friend of mine, mostly because, well, it's like getting married and having no one ask you if you're enjoying married life. Finally, when someone does ask you, you're sort of like, "Thank you for asking! I've been waiting for someone to do just that!"

After all, even atheists like to know that they matter.

So what about that question? What is life without God like? Honestly, it's much like life with God was. It's really not that different, and yet it is profoundly different. I suppose I could compare it to a divorce. In many ways, life goes on. You still eat, drink, sleep, go to the store, watch TV, read books, and any other number of random activities that make up the average life. But, in other ways, it's different now, too. That spouse is gone. Now you're reading books alone. Now you're sleeping alone. Now your routine is a bit thrown off because, well, the other human being you used to share your life with is gone.

Becoming an atheist is a bit like that. On the one hand, your life is still your life. The sky is still blue. The cat's breath still smells. The hot water in the shower still doesn't last long enough. But on the other hand, you are profoundly different on the inside, because a part of you is gone.

There is loss there, yes. Anytime we are separated from something or someone we used to love, there is loss. Loss isn't always bad, but it is almost always sad. One might therefore be justified to wonder or ask if I mourned the loss of God. The truth is, yes I did. And in many ways, I still do. Listen, no one can traverse the Christian realm for a decade or more, "walking with God," and revolving one's entire life around his faith and biblical values without that becoming a very huge part of who he is and what made him that way. My years in Christianity formed me. Some for good, mostly for ill. But I cannot escape that a large chunk of my life was spent on that road. And while I walked that road, there was a belief that I was not walking it alone, that there was the Great Unseen walking with me, directing me, comforting me, encouraging me, and loving me. No one can believe that and live that way for years and years and years and then not have the loss of that be a painful thing.

Was it a painful thing? Oh yes. Very much so. But this doesn't mean my decision was the wrong one. I'm not saying I can't be wrong (I could be, though I don't think I am), I'm just saying that the pain of the loss doesn't mean the loss wasn't necessary.

When I see a beautiful sunset, I can no longer thank God for it, because God isn't there to hear me. So, whom should I thank? The Christian asks this often. It was necessary. The sad thing for the Christian is that he can never know this until after it has happened. After all, you can only know the full extent of the Matrix after you've been unplugged from it, yes? Only from the outside can you see the evil of the Matrix. While you're in it, your perspective is limited. Hell, you don't even know it's there while you're in it. You have to be unplugged first, then you can see its scope and the sick, twisted thing that it is.

Anyway, life without God is definitely different in some ways. When I see a beautiful sunset, I can no longer thank God for it, because God isn't there to hear me. So, whom should I thank? The Christian asks this often. "Who do you thank," they ask, "when you're particularly grateful for this or that?" I think the answer is quite simple: feeling thankful and expressing thanks are not the same thing. I can look at beauty or wonder or anything that moves me and feel thankful that I am here to see it and experience it, but this doesn't mean I have to say "Thank you" to anyone in particular. It's enough for me that I'm here to experience that for which I'm thankful.

Another difference is that when a crisis arises I cannot go running to God to bail me out. But I don't think I need to explain why this isn't necessarily a bad thing. After all, there's something to be said about standing up and facing something on your own.

Overall, the net effect has been positive. The crippling guilt I used to live under has been swept away. The ambivalence about what this God may or may not have been saying to me is no more. The ongoing feeling of constantly falling short has been obliterated (you can't be guilty of failing God's standard if there is no God there to demand it). I no longer feel like I have to apologize for being born. I no longer have to find my worth in something I can't see and which I'm not entirely sure is even there to begin with. I no longer have to believe that God could only accept me once I was bathed in the blood of the son he ostensibly killed (how messed up is that, anyway?). I don't have the shackles of faith, limiting my mind to what my heart had to believe was the truth. I no longer have a book doing my thinking for me; I am free to form my own conclusions. I no longer have to live in fear of God's anger and punishment, because those disappear when he does. I no longer have to see the world in terms of who is going to heaven and who is going to hell, because those places don't exist. I no longer have to put all my hope in the next life; I can find meaning and value in this life and therefore live it all the more fully now. I am free to be myself, and let my inner light shine. I can fly now, where once I could only crawl.

Life without God is quite good, in fact. It's sort of like waking out of a bad dream and realizing you're so glad the monster wasn't real and that you're actually safe and sound in your bed. Yes, it was all just a dream. It began as a good dream but it went south with a vengeance. I'm just happy to be awake now. And as a writer, I still cannot find a way to describe what it is like. I know the joy of "experiencing God," because I used to do so all the time (though this experience, I now know, was taking place only in my head). It was always a sort of nervous joy, a joy underpinned with a sort of unspoken fear and apprehension. I also know the "peace" of experiencing God. It was never quite peace, however. It was more like forced tranquility that you're telling yourself is real even though you know you're a damn liar. And it never lasted. But since letting go of God, I have slept better, felt better, behaved better, reacted better, and experienced a peace and joy that is deeper, has lasted longer (still here, in fact), and has been much more quietly penetrative than anything I ever experienced with God.

Life without God? Two thumbs up.


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Atheism Gave Me Hope

By Ethan ~

I grew up in a moderate-to-strict Christian household. My dad was a pastor (at first of one that was part of a chain of churches called Calvary Chapel, now a Southern Baptist pastor). When I grew up, I had a rather positive idea of God. I always thought of him as this parent-like figure that was always watching over me, and always had my back. I went to a Christian school most of my life, until 7th grade, where I was pulled out and homeschooled until my junior year of high school (HORRIBLE).

While I was growing up, I never questioned my faith. I always thought of people who questioned their faith as people who didn't have enough faith to call themselves Christian, and that those who were truly "saved" would never question their faith. I always went through most of my life just blindly following God. If I had any questions, I would always ask my dad, who I thought of as this infallible source of knowledge and had all the God answers. Whenever I heard actual profound questions about God, (Such as, “If God created us, who created God”, “Why would a loving God allow so many horrible things to happen”, “If God created everything, why is there evil in the world”, and so on) I usually WOULD have answers to the questions. However, from a logical standpoint, they just wouldn’t make any sense. I also thought that I just understood God at a level that most of these other people didn’t because they hadn’t been “walking with God” long enough to understand it at my level of knowledge (yeah, I was an arrogant prick when it came to my actually weak faith).

As I grew up with a lot of these beliefs, I had other things that came up in my life.

First of all, I had major anxiety issues when I started going through puberty, and so I would have many days when I would cry, be scared, and feel hopeless with certain things that to most people wouldn’t seem scary at all. I prayed about them and asked everyone to pray for me on the issues, but alas, nothing came about. The only thing that helped me through the issues of anxiety was time.

Another issue that I had was the fact that I was gay, and could not for the life of me fight these feelings. I tried so hard to be straight, and was always told by so many of the Christians that homosexuality was a choice, and that I needed to fight it. It wasn’t until my sophomore year of high school when I finally accepted my homosexuality, and even then I tried to play it off as “I struggle with this, but I believe it’s wrong, so I won’t partake.” I still considered it part of who I was, while having the internalized homophobia. It was all because of this belief that I had that it’s wrong to be gay.

I tried so hard to be straight, and was always told by so many of the Christians that homosexuality was a choice, and that I needed to fight it.Finally, my senior year in high school, I came across this ministry called YoungLife. I fell in love with the ministry because I thought it would be the key to me being able to actually enjoy my faith, and not just believe because I was scared of going to hell. So I got as involved with that ministry as I could, and went off to become a YoungLife leader when I was in college. As I went through my senior year, I was also heavily involved with a youth group at my dad’s church. The youth group was led by a controlling youth pastor who tried to take advantage of my weaknesses. When I told him about my “issues” with being gay, he told me not to tell anyone, and didn’t like me by any stretch. He used many opportunities to belittle me, make me feel less-than, and force gender norms on me. He had issues in his own life that he was using me as a scapegoat for.

Finally, my years in college came around, and I decided to lead with the ministry YoungLife, go to my own church, and become an individual (but not so individualized that I wouldn’t be able to leave my faith). One day, as I was going to church, I heard a message from the college pastor, on April 14, 2013. It was probably one of the scariest days of my life, because this message was about what it really looks like to live as a Christian, and made me believe that I wasn’t truly a Christian at all. This led me to do everything I could to save myself and become a Christian so that I wouldn’t burn in hell.

Nothing really ultimately changed, except for the fact that I realized by the end of yet another anxiety phase that I hate Christianity, the God is cruel, and that we were all essentially set up to fail with the odds against us for making it into heaven. I didn’t want to admit that to myself because I didn’t want to piss off the God who I already didn’t feel like loved me. I remember thinking to myself how scary the “reality” of a God who forces people to love him unconditionally at the penalty of hell was. It was beyond frightening for me. I had so many days where I couldn’t even get out of bed because I knew the thoughts of fear and torment and hell would flood my mind. I tried all I could. It just wasn’t enough.

I later had a few months of what was one of the happiest moments of my life. I was actually finding that the less God I had in my life, the happier I was. I still tried to maintain my faith though. Eventually, I resigned from the ministry I worked for, which was my last taste of trying to work for my salvation (even though according to Christianity, salvation can’t be earned).

It was a few months later of me having time to myself to think about what I truly believe that essentially led to me ultimately questioning my faith. I tried so hard to hold on to my faith. I’ll never forget the one day I was driving to work one day, and I actually admitted out loud to myself, “ . . . I’m agnostic. I don’t know if God exists.” It was over the summer (of 2014) when I started becoming more and more uncomfortable with the idea of atheism being my belief.

When I became an agnostic/atheist, I realized that life no longer has to be about pleasing a god who will punish you if you don’t submit to his will, rather it’s actually an opportunity to enjoy myself and do good during my short period here. That’s it. There will be no burning in hell for all eternity when I’m done, nor will there be any worshipping of god in heaven. All I really have is what’s in front of me, and now I can finally be free to live happily and do good for others without having to wonder if it’s “God’s will” or not.