By MTC ~ T he "relationship" Christians have with their deity and wish for others to seek as well, is claimed to be one of pure love, benevolence, and devotion. However, if one pays close attention to the Bible, church teachings, etc., this relationship is exactly like an abusive marriage ("The Church," which is comprised of all Christians, is indeed said to be his bride). "God" demands complete control over the lives of his followers; where they live, what they do for a living, according to the Bible God controls everything in their lives, and if they rebel in even the slightest way, watch out! Christians are instructed to fear their god. In fact, they often avoid doing, saying, or even thinking about things they fear will anger him. I remember that all too well when I was still a believer! One of the main reasons why battered spouses don't leave and file for divorce is because they're too scared to do so. "God" threatens mortals ...

I t never ceases to amaze me how completely a human mind can be taken over by belief. Once someone decides they have the truth, there’s no reaching them with reason, no appealing to evidence, no possibility of honest dialogue. Their belief isn’t a conclusion they’ve come to — it’s the ground they stand on. To question it feels like questioning existence itself. I see it in my own family. Some of my relatives, though their lives are in varying degrees of disarray, remain absolutely certain that their particular brand of Christianity is the only true faith — and that I, for having rejected it, am destined for hell. Nothing I say, no matter how calm or rational, makes a dent. Their conviction is immune to contradiction; it explains everything and defends itself from all challenges. To them, their faith is reality itself. One relative in particular has merged religion with politics — a heady mix of MAGA-flavored Christian Nationalism . He quotes Jesus while echoing doctrines that have n...

W hen I first started questioning my faith, I noticed something odd. People didn’t really want to hear why I had doubts. They wanted to classify me. The moment someone steps away from belief, the label comes out: “They were never true believers.” The go-to verse for that is 1 John 2:19 —  “They went out from us, but they were not of us.”  That line has done a lot of heavy lifting over the centuries. It provides a neat theological escape hatch: if someone leaves, it’s not because something might be wrong with the faith. It’s because something was wrong with them. Of course, there are supporting texts — Hebrews 6, Matthew 7, 2 Peter 2 — each offering its own spin on the idea that you can get close to the truth without ever really possessing it. For the faithful, it’s a reassuring narrative. It means their worldview is insulated. No need to wrestle with messy questions about why sincere people lose belief — the Bible already explained it. Looking back, I can see how useful...

L ately, I’ve been asking myself a question that feels both embarrassing and profound: How could I have possibly believed that the claims of Christianity were anything more than absurd? 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.  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.  Parents, pastors, teachers — the people I loved and respected — all af...

I f prophecy forecasting were a sport, it would have the same credibility as the Cleveland Browns winning every Super Bowl from now until eternity. For at least the last century and a half, preachers and “prophecy experts” have been setting dates for the Rapture like overeager cruise directors planning a voyage that never sails. The Latest Bust: September 23, 2025 This year’s big date was September 23 (or 24, depending on your time zone). A South African pastor named Joshua Mhlakela announced that Jesus told him directly this would be the day when believers would be “taken.”[1] TikTok and YouTube lit up with frantic “prophecy updates,” urging Christians to repent quickly or risk being left behind. Then September 23 came. And went. Nothing. Again. Media outlets ran with the post-mortems, some in mockery, others in pity. And just like every other failed prediction, excuses flooded in: the calendar was off, the feast day was misunderstood, or the rapture happened “spiritually.” If ...

1) Jesus fetish. Those afflicted with Christianity develop an obsessive fixation on a man known as Jesus Christ, an ancient cult leader who they say 'loves' them and whose corpse, after he was executed, they believe climbed out of his tomb and ate some food and then went on a space trip into heaven. This man apparently 'saved' them from their 'sins' when he came back from the dead.  2) Intellectual suicide. Sufferers completely close down their brain and ignore science, logic and reason. Christians, having abandoned their brains, rely on a book, the "Bible", for answers to everything - including how to handle their sex lives.  3) Anti-social behavior. Christians often retreat from, or condemn the rest of society which they believe is full of "sinners."  4) Paranoia and psychotic delusions. Christians believe that a fearsome monster, which they call 'Satan', is at large in the world 'tempting' them and trying to drag people...

By Webmdave ~ I was once a special kind of True Christian™ believer — bold, confident — who thought ancient religions were laughable nonsense. Hindu gods? Absurd! Norse mythology? A joke! Indigenous cosmologies? Childish fairy tales! And yet... my entire True Christian™ worldview was built on a book where a snake talks, a woman is cloned from a man's rib (Adam and Steve?), and a cosmic being sends itself to Earth to be tortured to death... by humans... to appease itself. Even so, is there any doubt that other religions really are just mythology? Let’s break this down. It’s silly that Egyptian gods have animal heads? But according to True Christians™, it's perfectly sane that God turned two cities into smoldering craters because he didn’t like the residents' bedroom habits. Reincarnation is nonsense, but thinking an invisible war between angels and demons is happening right now, all around us in a war that somehow affects United States presidential elections is r...

I t is 2025. We have sequenced the human genome, mapped the cosmic microwave background, and developed artificial intelligence capable of composing symphonies and diagnosing diseases. And yet, somehow, vast swaths of humanity—including, heartbreakingly, young people—are still pledging allegiance to ancient fables, clinging to a mythology that has been refuted by reason, evidence, and basic common sense for centuries. If religion were simply a personal quirk—like an affinity for astrology or homeopathy—it would be one thing. But it’s not. Religion is a mind virus, an intellectual parasite that thrives on uncritical thinking and the suppression of doubt. As Richard Dawkins put it in The God Delusion , religion is "a process of non-thinking" and "a meme that prays on the gullible and the indoctrinated.” And indoctrination is key. Why else would an 19-year-old raised in a world of science, reason, and instant access to information suddenly decide that the unprovable metaphy...

I magine, for a moment, that someone told you today that a man was executed, stayed dead for three days, then got up, dusted himself off, and walked out of his grave like a guy waking up from a nap. You’d assume they were joking—or that they had been taken in by some fringe internet conspiracy. Yet, this is the foundational claim of Christianity, a belief held by billions, despite being the sort of thing that, if it happened now, would be filed under "bizarre hoax" on Snopes within hours. To make it even stranger, the story doesn’t end there. After a few weeks of post-death appearances—appearing to his disciples, having breakfast, and showing off his spear wound like a party trick—Jesus decides to leave Earth by ascending into heaven. This was before we knew about outer space, of course, because "going up" in those days just meant "going where God lives." Today, we know better. If a man literally ascended into the sky, he wouldn’t be transported to some...

I t is absolutely infuriating that Christians—of all people—have the gall to declare that their religion is the one and only truth while dismissing every other belief system as fantasy, delusion, or outright deception. The sheer arrogance required to make such a claim is astounding. They ridicule Greek mythology, laugh at Hindu deities, and mock indigenous spiritual traditions—all while demanding that everyone accept their set of supernatural absurdities as objective reality. Let’s be crystal clear: Christianity is mythology . It’s a collection of ancient stories, borrowed traditions, and heavily edited scriptures, repackaged as divine truth. The only reason it gets a pass is because it wormed its way into political power centuries ago and has been gaslighting people ever since. If the Roman Empire had favored some other sect, modern Christians might be worshiping Mithras and claiming that was the one true faith. But no, because history played out in their favor, they now stand ...

O f all the wild, miraculous, and downright physics-defying things in the story of Jesus, perhaps the most absurd claim of all is that he died at the ripe old age of 33… without ever having done the deed . Let’s be real—this is more unbelievable than walking on water. More far-fetched than feeding 5,000 people with a couple of fish and some stale bread. More ridiculous than coming back from the dead after being executed by an empire that specialized in executing people. Because while resurrection is improbable, celibacy in your thirties is downright suspicious. The Bachelor Messiah Picture it: First-century Judea. A handsome carpenter (because of course Jesus was handsome—every Renaissance painting confirms this). He’s well-spoken, compassionate, good with his hands (literally—he’s a carpenter), and performs magic tricks that would make even David Blaine jealous. He turns water into wine at parties. He heals the sick, raises the dead, and preaches about love, forgiveness, and shari...

W hat does anyone know of Omniscience. Are there actually any "know-it-alls?" How far does omniscience extend for an omniscient being? Is there anything It wouldn't know? What does the Bible have to say about omniscience? The video below explores this topic with thoughtfulness, logic and some humor.

L ately, I’ve noticed an interesting trend at the fitness center I frequent: as the years tick by, an existential panic seems to be driving many of the older regulars  into the welcoming arms of a trendy "Faith over Fear" version of Christianity. Meanwhile, my own enthusiasm regarding life after death has waned, much like my childhood fascination for Froot Loops that long ago lost any appeal to my more mature  palate. I refrain from openly scoffing at the comfort faith may provide to some; I appreciate the very human desire for safety and assurance in the face of the unknown. But while some people see the horizon of mortality approaching and find solace in the idea of something beyond the grave, I’ve found a peculiar kind of peace in simply accepting that one day I won’t exist. And strangely enough, that doesn’t bother me. Understanding mortality from a naturalistic perspective means letting go of the idea that I need a cosmic encore to make my time here meaningful. The fa...

By DissentOfMan ~ S ince becoming an exchristian thirteen years ago I've searched for answers to make sense of things. Mostly, searching for answers pertaining to why we are the way we are, why we behave/believe the way we do? I believe I've found the answers in determinism. What convinced me was the book Determined: A Science Of Life Without Free Will : by scientist and author, Robert Sapolsky. Here are some quotes from him. "All we are is the end product of what came before". "If you really believe this stuff, and take it to it's logical conclusions, were nothing more than the biology and environment over which we had no control." "If you really believe that, blame and punishment never make any sense, either intellectually or ethically." "Likewise praise and reward never make any sense, and those are the logical conclusions that come from this". How could we possibly have free will? Here is a video of him explaining in great...

I magine for a moment scrolling through your favorite social media feed, only to find that every post is a selfie—with a divine twist. That’s Paul the Apostle for you. His letters, replete with the singularly majestic "I," might just qualify him as the original poster obsessed with himself, albeit with heavenly credentials. The Many, Many “I’s” If Paul were alive today, his Instagram bio might read, “I, me, and I—delivering divine revelations one letter at a time.” A quick glance at his epistles reveals an unabashed love affair with the first-person singular. In a literary world where collaborative spirit is often celebrated, Paul’s incessant “I received,” “I saw,” and “I declare” almost reads like the ancient equivalent of a Twitter feed completely dominated by his own thoughts. Is it narcissism, or is it just really, really, really confident storytelling? One might joke that if self-absorption were a sport, Paul would have been the undefeated champion of the apostolic ga...

R ecently a Christian believer contacted me with the following request: "I received an assignment for a Christian Apologetics course. We were asked to ask someone who is not a Christian to present their worldview. Would you be willing to help me? I would be very grateful." To make the exercise a bit more interesting and perhaps thought provoking, I decided to answer the posed questions here as if we were having an actual discussion. Using the Socratic method, I answer the questions, and ask my own questions in return.  Sometimes my questions go unanswered.  Evangelical: Let's begin our discussion with a fundamental question: What do you think happens after we die? Skeptical Former Evangelical: That's a profound question. But before I answer, may I ask—what assumptions do you make about the nature of the soul and afterlife? Evangelical: I see life as having an eternal dimension—a continuation with God. How do you view the possibility of an afterlife? Skeptica...

By TheRedneckProfessor ~ I magine, if you will, a seedy hotel room in the dirty part of town.    In the corner there is a small table, the drawer of which contains a Gideon bible.    A garishly ornate lamp casts a pool of dingy yellow light upon the wall behind it, covered in peeling wallpaper, the fading floral pattern now more a study in browns after decades of dust and cigarette haze.    In this room we have a 10-year-old girl: a singular expression of innocence and unfettered hope.    Beside her, on the bed, is a 39-year-old pedophile rapist: the epitome of sociopathic sadism, a monster.    He is neither her father, nor her uncle.    He is, in fact, no one with whom this little girl should be alone.   We know what is going to happen in this room; there is no need to provide further detail.   This is the essence of meaningless, purposeless, gratuitous suffering inflicted upon innocence, examples of which can be s...