How Did I Ever Believe Christianity Was True?
It’s not an accusation against my past self so much as a genuine inquiry. Looking back, I can see there were many powerful and very human reasons why I believed — and why it all felt so convincing at the time.
I grew up inside it.
Christianity wasn’t presented to me as an idea to be evaluated; it was simply reality. “Jesus is Lord” wasn’t a proposition — it was a background truth, like “the sky is blue.” I didn’t choose it. I inherited it.
It met deep emotional needs.
It met deep emotional needs.
The faith promised meaning, belonging, and eternal security. When you’re searching for purpose or fearing death, that’s an intoxicating combination. Wanting reassurance isn’t irrational — it’s profoundly human.
I trusted the people who taught it.
I trusted the people who taught it.
Parents, pastors, teachers — the people I loved and respected — all affirmed it as true. When every authority around you agrees on something, you absorb it long before you ever analyze it.
The story was powerful.
The story was powerful.
Christianity tells a story that hits every mythic chord: good versus evil, sacrifice, redemption, love conquering death. It’s a masterpiece of emotional narrative design, and I was completely taken by it.
I felt things.
I felt things.
I experienced what I believed was the “presence of God.” Those feelings — peace, awe, transcendence — were real experiences, even if I now understand they came from the brain’s own ability to generate powerful emotional states under the right conditions.
Fear was part of the package.
Fear was part of the package.
Hell. Judgment. Eternal punishment. Doubt came with the threat of cosmic consequences. When disbelief feels dangerous, the easiest path is to double down on faith.
The community kept it alive.
The community kept it alive.
Belief is social. Singing the songs, repeating the creeds, doing the rituals — all of that binds you emotionally to the group. You start to believe as much for the belonging as for the theology.
So how could I have believed it? Because I was human — social, emotional, meaning-seeking, and wired to trust my tribe.
When I reframe the question from “How could I have believed?” to “What was I trying to find or protect by believing?”, I find more compassion for that earlier version of myself. I wasn’t gullible; I was searching — for truth, for comfort, for something to hold onto in an absurdly bewildering world.
And maybe that’s the most honest thing any of us can say about our past faith: it wasn’t stupidity or weakness. It was just the most human thing in the world — wanting something beautiful to be true.
So how could I have believed it? Because I was human — social, emotional, meaning-seeking, and wired to trust my tribe.
When I reframe the question from “How could I have believed?” to “What was I trying to find or protect by believing?”, I find more compassion for that earlier version of myself. I wasn’t gullible; I was searching — for truth, for comfort, for something to hold onto in an absurdly bewildering world.
And maybe that’s the most honest thing any of us can say about our past faith: it wasn’t stupidity or weakness. It was just the most human thing in the world — wanting something beautiful to be true.