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 ...

I n every Charismatic or Pentecostal congregation I’ve attended, worship was thunderous, prophecy flowed freely, and spiritual experiences were the proof of a “vibrant faith.” These practices were presented as evidence of the ultimate truth. But for some believers, the same practices became fertile ground for religious psychosis—more accurately, psychosis with religious content—where hallucinations and delusions were shaped by faith itself. Psychosis is a medical condition involving a break from reality: hallucinations (such as voices), delusions (fixed false beliefs), and loss of insight. Religion doesn’t directly cause psychosis, but emotionally charged preaching and environments that encourage believers to hear God’s voice or fight unseen demons can worsen vulnerability and delay treatment ( Lloyd, Reid & Kotera, 2021 ). Psychosis with religious themes is not rare. Studies across cultures and diagnoses show that anywhere from 20-60% of deluded patients report religious content ...

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 n his article " There's No Such Thing As An Ex-Christian ," Pastor Ed Collins of the North Christian Church in  North Dighton, Massachusetts,  asserts that individuals who claim to have left the Christian faith were never truly Christians to begin with. He mocks those who claim to be ex-christian, apparently basing his opinion on the doctrine of eternal security, which suggests that once someone is genuinely "born again," they remain a child of God forever, no matter what. Therefore, according to Collins, anyone who departs from the faith was never "authentically" saved. While his perspective may align with some theological interpretations, the "You were never truly a Christian™" message fails to recognize that the broader Christian tradition encompasses a wide diversity of views on salvation, apostasy, and the nature of faith.  The concept of eternal security, usually associated with Reformed Theolog y (ex: Reformed Baptists,   Luthe...

By Webmdave ~ I n this "Enlightened Age" of grandiose megachurches, faith healers, flat earthers, laughing revivalists and campaigners for creationism, one paradox remains as alive as ever: folks who are absolutely convinced they possess a direct line to the Divine still manage to consider everyone else’s beliefs as wacky fanfiction. Yet, while demanding unflinching reverence for their own God—who coincidentally shares their political views, national identity, and taste in flags—they dismiss others' deities as silly, quaint or downright dangerous. It’s not just ethnocentrism—it’s a full-blown tribal loyalty test, where the entry fee is suspension of disbelief (for your own ancient myths) and gleeful derision (for everyone else's). “The oddity of other people’s religion is always more apparent than that of one’s own.” This quote, attributed to Anthropologist Pascal Boyer , can be found in summaries and paraphrased interpretations of his book Religion Explained...

T he Resurrection of Jesus stands as the linchpin of Christian theology. Without it, the religion’s salvific framework falls apart. As Paul famously writes in 1 Corinthians 15:14 ,  “If Christ has not been raised, then our proclamation has been in vain and your faith is in vain.”  For believers, this is a miraculous and literal event; for many scholars, however, it is better understood as a mythological narrative — one that follows well-worn patterns from the ancient world. Resurrection and the Pattern of Dying-Rising Gods The Resurrection story did not emerge in a vacuum. As Jonathan Z. Smith , a historian of religion at the University of Chicago, points out in Drudgery Divine (1990), the ancient Mediterranean world was replete with stories of dying and rising gods. While Smith was critical of oversimplified comparisons, he acknowledged that early Christians developed their theology in dialogue with prevailing mythic motifs. “Early Christians didn’t invent the category,...

T he assumption that Jesus of Nazareth was a real historical figure is nearly universal in Western thought. Yet a growing minority of scholars—most notably Dr. Richard Carrier, PhD—argue that this assumption deserves serious scrutiny. Carrier is a historian of antiquity trained at Columbia University and a prominent advocate of the “mythicist” position: the idea that Jesus Christ may have originated not as a real person, but as a mythical, celestial being later historicized by early Christians. In On the Historicity of Jesus: Why We Might Have Reason for Doubt (2014), Carrier applies Bayesian probability theory to historical evidence and concludes that “the probability Jesus existed is low—maybe as low as 1 in 3” (Carrier, 2014, p. 600). He asserts that the earliest Christian documents, particularly the epistles of Paul, describe a supernatural savior who performs salvific acts in a heavenly realm, not on Earth. Paul, writing decades before the Gospels, shows no knowledge of a recen...