for encouraging ex-Christians
My Church of Christ
My parents came from different Christian backgrounds. My mom was raised Lutheran, and then Nazarene. My dad was raised Roman Catholic. My dad had left this faith by the time he started dating my mom (though retained a lot of the guilt and superstitions of his childhood). He didn't like confession or buy into the priest actually turning the communion into literally the body and blood of Christ - and if it were true it sickened him. My mom was brought up in all the protestant evangelical nonsense we see today. The idea of the rapture is one that has continued to affect her to this day. She used to break down in terror if she lost sight of her parents, always afraid that the rapture had happened and she was left behind alone. So they got together, procreated (me) almost right away and neither had a clear idea of what they believed in.
My mom is the one that insisted that they find a church that made sense. My dad might have ended up agnostic, maybe even an atheist had they not kept looking. It took them almost 2 years to get married because they could not agree about religion or child rearing. My dad joined the Air Force, they got married and we all moved to Texas where they went to the first Church of Christ. Later on, my dad said they were not completely scriptural either, but they started them both on the path to seeking a church that followed the Bible exactly.
The next place we were sent to was England. There was a tiny Church of Christ there not far off post. I do not remember much about it, but my mom said I had a terrible time sitting through the service and she had to spank me almost constsantly for a week to train me to behave myself. I was 2 and had never attended church before - what would anyone expect? The average age of the attendees was post-retired and there were no other children. There weren't even any other military members or young adults. I really think my parents are crazy sometimes...
Just before I turned 4 we moved to Germany and it was at the Church of Christ in Ramstein, Germany that I have my first memories of church. The pastor and his wife were non military. They ran missionaries primarily in Yugoslavia and Ethiopia and lived in Ramstein while not off in those places. Most of the money (which wasn't much) contributed went to those missionaries. The average number of attendees there was about 70. We met in the basement of a German printing company. There was small sanctuary with mismatched chairs and beat up hymnals and 3 classrooms set up for children 4-8, 9-13 and 14-18. We had a projector and used transparent slides in services or a white board. Thus was the extent of our technology. No musical instruments were used in service (the NT never mentions them and the OT gives many examples of serving the Lord with "strange fire" and how he feels about that). Everything they did and preached was backed by scripture, and all scripture was taught without reservation.
Of course there are inconsistencies in the Bible, but this church was particularly gifted at making them fit together. This was done by going through using original translation of words, metaphorical vs literal interpretations of text among other things. There are a few things I feel thankful towards this church for teaching me and one of them is that I have definitely read and re-read the Bible several times, analyzed it from end to end and understand it completely. There are no doubts for me to consider, what they taught is what the Bible says.
They also greatly enjoyed going over why every other denomination had it wrong. From Catholicism to Pentacostal, Mormon to Methodist, I knew the basics of all the major denominations and saw where they diverged from the teachings of the Bible. This pastor didn't get so explicit as to say that all of those people were definitely going to hell, but did imply it. Ah yes, the talk of hell. In fact, their rationalization for the travesties committed by God in the OT are all said to just give us a taste of the horrors of eternal damnation. And to show us how exact God demands our worship of him be.
This church was never about making God look any different than what the Bible depicts him as. The members were stoic, somewhat pessimistic, serious and bland. The "joy" they felt in the Lord was highly controlled (and probably fabricated). The pastor had another hot button issue: divorce. He laid out the exact rules for marriage and divorce and remarriage more times than I could count. You could only get a divorce if your spouse cheated on you. In that case you could also remarry, but your spouse could not. But God doesn't want anyone to divorce for any reason, so you shouldn't do it anyway. He probably mentioned homosexuals a lot, but I had no context for that behavior and couldn't comprehend it at that age. This church had a few children my age but I never made close friends with anyone I went to church with, from this one or the 2 places I lived after this.
Though I was very sheltered by my parents in many ways, I was by no means only influenced by Church. I went to a public school (DODS school for military kids) and all my friends went to different churches so to really get along with people I had to compartmentalize my religion and keep it there. Thus I was never the kid trying to convert others. I did worry about my best friend (who went to a church that had instruments in service oh my!) but our friendship had nothing to do with our religious beliefs. I had an exceptional imagination. The girl in "Bridge to Terebinthia" had nothing on my imaginary worlds I created constantly for myself. "Lord of the Rings" was sacred text; I knew that "Chronicles of Narnia" were allegorical but I thought they were far superior to the Bible in beauty and power. Plus I always loved symbolism better than literal interpretations. I also watched shows like "Captain Planet" (while amusing, its a great show) and environmental concepts were easily grasped and beloved. I loved trees. Literally loved them. I felt that anything that could instill an emotional response was worth protecting and treated my toys, furniture, friends, environment and even bugs with as much kindness and respect that I could. Life was far more important to me than religion or the afterlife.
When at home, with my parents, religion was paramount. I understood the legalistic interpretations very well. It was like a set of instructions on how to get to heaven, laid out clear as anything that had to be followed no matter what. When I was disobedient, I insisted that I be spanked for it. The Bible is clear that children that are disobedient need to be spanked in order to be redeemed. I was an perfectionist in everything, getting perfect grades to being a perfect daughter and Christian. Of course there is no such thing, but I was going to try as hard as I could to reach it. I can honestly say that I did not do so out of a need to be more righteous than anyone else. I never felt superior to others and felt that my religion was a private matter and didn't think about the state of other people's souls. I felt glad to be female because preaching the word would never be my responsibility, only following it. In this way, I was more than prepared to be submissive to my elders, and one day to my husband in order to get to heaven.
I was also someone who valued my childhood. I loved being a kid and was well aware that adults wish they could do it again. I knew it was precious (and that I was a rare person to acknowledge this fact). I was determined to get as much out of my childhood as possible. It makes what comes next all the more tragic.
My father was in the Air Force (as previously mentioned) and he worked with a lot of single guys who lived in the barracks on base. When my parents went out on dates, one of these men would come over to babysit us, usually a guy named Darren (he was pretty cool and I liked him as a babysitter). But one time a different guy offered to babysit. And while my parents were away and my younger brother slept he raped me. I was 8, almost 9 years old. I had never been told what to do if this happened. I had no idea what had happened. I knew it was sinful to have sex. I knew it was sinful to 'tempt a man' into immorality. Because I only thought of my actions and was incapable of finding fault with someone in authority over me, I felt fully responsible and utterly lost. This was not a sin that I could get spanked clean from. This was a sin that made me an adult in the eyes of God an there was only one thing to do about it: get baptized.
These thoughts all came later. At first, I was certain I was going to die. I lay in the bathtub in pink tinged water that had long since gone cold and waited to die. It was the thought of breathing my last breath and finding myself in eternal agony in hell that made me get up, clean myself off and keep living. It was the thought of my parents faces when they found out how terrible I had been in their absence that kept me from telling them. Ever. (knowing how terrible they would feel about it keeps me from telling them now)
I had night terrors for a month every night after this. I screamed that I was burning in hell and woke my family with my cries. I told my dad that a demon invaded my sleep (we didn't believe in possession occurring modern times because it was something that only happened in Biblical times so Jesus could demonstrate his power) and told me I was going to hell. I finally convinced him to baptize me when I said, "If I died I would go to hell. I see that I am a sinner and I need to be baptized to be saved." My dad couldn't argue with it, even though he thought I was too young to be held accountable. He talked to the preacher and the elders and they agreed that I was intellegent for my age and could be baptized. I was baptized in my bathing suit in the very same bathtub that I rose from weeks earlier. The symbolism is not lost on me. I feel sick, thinking about it now.
This was an easy solution for a child with a limited understanding of the world. The sin was cleansed and I never had to think about it again... if only. I became a bit more militant in my beliefs after being baptized. I felt it was now my responsibility to keep other people from going through what I had, and saving them was the best way to do so. I would like to think that I was still not obnoxious about it, but maybe I was. My best friend moved away, and eventually so did I. My dad resigned from the Air Force when I was 10 and had just started 5th grade. We moved back to the states where we lived with my mom's parents for a while before moving again to Pennsylvania.
A funny thing happens to kids when they get to middle school. By funny, I mean they turn into monsters. That could have just been the area we lived in, but my experience in Reading, PA was truly nightmarish. The only thing that kept me going was knowing that we wouldn't stay there forever. I had no friends at school. The students hated me right off the bat because I had lived in Germany and none of them had ever been out of state. They were incredibly predjudiced against anyone remotely different from themselves. Gossip was the number one pastime, and freaks like us were prime pickings to make fun of. Also, I got all As in a school that had about 30 people repeating 7th grade and 16 repeating it for a third try. There was a 16 year old in 7th grade. Also, many of these students were sexually active, something I could not comprehend doing voluntarily ever. My experience had made me virtually asexual and I felt no attraction to the opposite sex whatsoever. So I was of course assumed to be a lesbian. This hurt me, because of the hatred in their comments. I cared little about being called a lesbian because I was also called a Nazi for living in Germany. I could see the ignorance and was pained by the intent of the commetns more than the comments themselves.
Plus I remember one lovely boy named Thomas who was very kind to me. He was the grandson of a lady on my street and she got us together because she knew we were both unhappy. I told someone at school that I liked him (not romantically but I wanted to put rumors about my sexuality to rest) and she laughed at me "Don't you know he's gay? Hes a faggot, you can't like a faggot. Dike." Hmm. I was on the outside looking in and I didn't like it. I vowed to never treat people this way, no matter what they believed or didn't. The people they were cruel to, a "fat" girl named Tina, a Jewish girl named Heidi, a gay boy named Thomas, a foster kid named Delilah were the only people I met worth being friends with. We were a sad and dejected group of outcasts and never formed a cohesive group to defend ourselves, just a quiet understanding that we were not alone.
The church we went to was much like the other one, now being a teenager the focus was primarily about not doing drugs or having sex. Virginity was held as the most precious gift we posses, especially girls. I was shit-outta-luck in that department and it pained me greatly. I prayed over it constantly, and wondered what my future husband would think when he discovered the terrible truth. I very much dreaded it. My fears were somewhat relieved when I learned that using tampons can break the tell tale sign of virginity and that it doesn't count when that happens. I had an excuse. Churches of Christs are few and far between. This Church was 50 minutes away and several members lived out of state (up to an hour and a half away). It was the nicest church I have ever been a member of, with a real building and carpet and pews and everything. It also had a lovely yard and a pond and cherry tree and this interested me a lot more than the interior of the building. There were 2 girls my age. Both were home schooled and we had very little in common despite my parents attempts to get me to make friends with them. They were nice enough, just extremely sheltered and narrow minded.
Just before 8th grade we moved back to Colorado, my birth place. Aurora to be exact. I'd thank God for that but... you know. My school was wonderful. The students were diverse in every way and I quickly made friends with a wide group of people who enjoyed my somewhat crazy creative side and respected my intelegence and indifference towards dating. One friend was Hindu, one was half Japanese and somewhat Buddhist, a few were agnostic. I found myself arguing against Christians on nearly every subject from homosexuality to the teaching of evolution in schools. Because I argued from a logical standpoint and never from a Biblical one. Its not hard to understand that Biblical reasoning will only effect people who believe the Bible and not everyone does. I would have still told you I was a Christian at this point, and I attended the Church of Christ every week 3 times a week. I kept is as my internal moral code of living but did not try to convert people or insist my views upon them.
In high school my belief crumbled ever faster. I met a Wiccan and adored her. She moved soon after but I always remember her and how beautiful the religion was. I took a world religions class (my dad highly disapproved) and from there it was official. Christianity leaves people on the outside looking in. Things they have no control over ultimately decide their final resting place. Its unfair, its unloving, and its unreasonable. It was only chance that made me born into a Christian home. I could have been born to Native Americans, Hindus, Muslims, or atheists. The sermons of the church I attended (now without any desire to continue) became ever more laughable - the number of people getting to heaven is very small indeed according to the Church of Christ. I'd guess its around 20 by now.
My parents divorced when I was 15. It was shocking, given it was their church I went to my whole life that constantly harped on how utterly wrong it was to do so. But at least their constant fighting was at an end. My dad continued going to church, my mom stopped. It was my dad who cheated, but my mom was on the 'black list' in the eyes of the church because it was she who insisted on the divorce. Yet my dad still insisted on going to church every Sunday. My mom started dating a Messianic soon after I started practicing Wicca alone in secret. This man was way off his rocker, and made my mom nuts too. We went to their church on Saturdays (my fully indoctrinated brother fought the whole time and made the most terrible faces during the services). Messianic church was okay. I liked the dancing a lot. But the sermons made no sense to me and took way too long. My dad still took us to church on Sundays so I also hated the pointless loss of my entire weekend. Crazy boyfriend realized what my pentacle meant and convinced my mom that I was summoning evil spirits and might even be possessed. My whole life she never believed in demon possession but she was nearly convinced to get me exorcised. He just threw holy water at me from time to time to... see if I burst into flame? I am not really sure why. This of course made me all the more fed up with the whole thing. My dad's church continued to get more and more ridiculous with a new pastor. The church might be a certifiable cult now; my dad still attends.
My mom's crazy boyfriend finally broke up with her for another woman (he tried to return 4 months later but shes not that stupid). She started going to church sporadically, usually the slightly more liberal Church of Christ (incidentally this church was much closer to our house but my dad insisted on taking us to the psycho one in downtown Denver). I would go but I remember little about it. I preferred it to the crazy one and spent most of the time writing in my journals about my new spiritual theories. During this time I started dating my current husband. We met when I was 16 and he was 15. He was never brought up religious at all though his mom attends United Methodist Church. He went through a lot to help me come to grips with everything that happened to me. He helped me through the severe depression that came with opening the old wounds and finally I understood that it was not my fault. Nearly 3 years later we would finally have sex and I would not feel terror, guilt or agony.
I got a job after high school and finally was able to stop going to church all together. Until this point my dad still insisted that I go with him every other weekend (my mom was able to free me of the weekends with her). I felt bad because I didn't see my dad much after that, but so relieved that I didn't have to face the judgment over my pentacle, my pink hair, my eye brow piercing. I got officially withdrawn from a year or so later but it didn't change anything as no one from the church ever talked to me outside of the building anyway. Except my dad who obviously didn't cut me off because despite his insane church going habits he is a decent father.
The most damage done has been to my brother with aspergers who is the most hate filled doctrine spouting person I have ever met. People with aspergers have a tick (or several) that they obsess over. My brother does this with religion and politics to a frightening extreme. I will blame the church if he ever does something crazy like shoot an abortion doctor and I see this as a very real possibility. Even my dad thinks he goes to far with his ranting and raving. My mom may or may not believe. She does not talk about it with me, I think because she feels bad for what she put me through growing up. She definitely does not believe in the brand of Church of Christ Christianity.
I would describe myself as an atheist pagan. I started with Wicca, and still call myself a witch (because people's reactions are hilarious for one) but I do not believe in a conscious deity. I do enjoy the rituals and the symbolism of the practice. I think of it as a connection to the earth and the natural world in a real way, not a faith based way. The Goddess and God merely symbolize aspects of the universe and I do not worship them or expect them to intercede in my life (as they are not conscious beings). More on what I believe now some other time.
This was insanely long, but I have been thinking about it a lot and wanted to get it out. No one has to read it, if you did, thanks very much for 'listening'. I
My mom is the one that insisted that they find a church that made sense. My dad might have ended up agnostic, maybe even an atheist had they not kept looking. It took them almost 2 years to get married because they could not agree about religion or child rearing. My dad joined the Air Force, they got married and we all moved to Texas where they went to the first Church of Christ. Later on, my dad said they were not completely scriptural either, but they started them both on the path to seeking a church that followed the Bible exactly.
The next place we were sent to was England. There was a tiny Church of Christ there not far off post. I do not remember much about it, but my mom said I had a terrible time sitting through the service and she had to spank me almost constsantly for a week to train me to behave myself. I was 2 and had never attended church before - what would anyone expect? The average age of the attendees was post-retired and there were no other children. There weren't even any other military members or young adults. I really think my parents are crazy sometimes...
Just before I turned 4 we moved to Germany and it was at the Church of Christ in Ramstein, Germany that I have my first memories of church. The pastor and his wife were non military. They ran missionaries primarily in Yugoslavia and Ethiopia and lived in Ramstein while not off in those places. Most of the money (which wasn't much) contributed went to those missionaries. The average number of attendees there was about 70. We met in the basement of a German printing company. There was small sanctuary with mismatched chairs and beat up hymnals and 3 classrooms set up for children 4-8, 9-13 and 14-18. We had a projector and used transparent slides in services or a white board. Thus was the extent of our technology. No musical instruments were used in service (the NT never mentions them and the OT gives many examples of serving the Lord with "strange fire" and how he feels about that). Everything they did and preached was backed by scripture, and all scripture was taught without reservation.
Of course there are inconsistencies in the Bible, but this church was particularly gifted at making them fit together. This was done by going through using original translation of words, metaphorical vs literal interpretations of text among other things. There are a few things I feel thankful towards this church for teaching me and one of them is that I have definitely read and re-read the Bible several times, analyzed it from end to end and understand it completely. There are no doubts for me to consider, what they taught is what the Bible says.
They also greatly enjoyed going over why every other denomination had it wrong. From Catholicism to Pentacostal, Mormon to Methodist, I knew the basics of all the major denominations and saw where they diverged from the teachings of the Bible. This pastor didn't get so explicit as to say that all of those people were definitely going to hell, but did imply it. Ah yes, the talk of hell. In fact, their rationalization for the travesties committed by God in the OT are all said to just give us a taste of the horrors of eternal damnation. And to show us how exact God demands our worship of him be.
This church was never about making God look any different than what the Bible depicts him as. The members were stoic, somewhat pessimistic, serious and bland. The "joy" they felt in the Lord was highly controlled (and probably fabricated). The pastor had another hot button issue: divorce. He laid out the exact rules for marriage and divorce and remarriage more times than I could count. You could only get a divorce if your spouse cheated on you. In that case you could also remarry, but your spouse could not. But God doesn't want anyone to divorce for any reason, so you shouldn't do it anyway. He probably mentioned homosexuals a lot, but I had no context for that behavior and couldn't comprehend it at that age. This church had a few children my age but I never made close friends with anyone I went to church with, from this one or the 2 places I lived after this.
Though I was very sheltered by my parents in many ways, I was by no means only influenced by Church. I went to a public school (DODS school for military kids) and all my friends went to different churches so to really get along with people I had to compartmentalize my religion and keep it there. Thus I was never the kid trying to convert others. I did worry about my best friend (who went to a church that had instruments in service oh my!) but our friendship had nothing to do with our religious beliefs. I had an exceptional imagination. The girl in "Bridge to Terebinthia" had nothing on my imaginary worlds I created constantly for myself. "Lord of the Rings" was sacred text; I knew that "Chronicles of Narnia" were allegorical but I thought they were far superior to the Bible in beauty and power. Plus I always loved symbolism better than literal interpretations. I also watched shows like "Captain Planet" (while amusing, its a great show) and environmental concepts were easily grasped and beloved. I loved trees. Literally loved them. I felt that anything that could instill an emotional response was worth protecting and treated my toys, furniture, friends, environment and even bugs with as much kindness and respect that I could. Life was far more important to me than religion or the afterlife.
When at home, with my parents, religion was paramount. I understood the legalistic interpretations very well. It was like a set of instructions on how to get to heaven, laid out clear as anything that had to be followed no matter what. When I was disobedient, I insisted that I be spanked for it. The Bible is clear that children that are disobedient need to be spanked in order to be redeemed. I was an perfectionist in everything, getting perfect grades to being a perfect daughter and Christian. Of course there is no such thing, but I was going to try as hard as I could to reach it. I can honestly say that I did not do so out of a need to be more righteous than anyone else. I never felt superior to others and felt that my religion was a private matter and didn't think about the state of other people's souls. I felt glad to be female because preaching the word would never be my responsibility, only following it. In this way, I was more than prepared to be submissive to my elders, and one day to my husband in order to get to heaven.
I was also someone who valued my childhood. I loved being a kid and was well aware that adults wish they could do it again. I knew it was precious (and that I was a rare person to acknowledge this fact). I was determined to get as much out of my childhood as possible. It makes what comes next all the more tragic.
My father was in the Air Force (as previously mentioned) and he worked with a lot of single guys who lived in the barracks on base. When my parents went out on dates, one of these men would come over to babysit us, usually a guy named Darren (he was pretty cool and I liked him as a babysitter). But one time a different guy offered to babysit. And while my parents were away and my younger brother slept he raped me. I was 8, almost 9 years old. I had never been told what to do if this happened. I had no idea what had happened. I knew it was sinful to have sex. I knew it was sinful to 'tempt a man' into immorality. Because I only thought of my actions and was incapable of finding fault with someone in authority over me, I felt fully responsible and utterly lost. This was not a sin that I could get spanked clean from. This was a sin that made me an adult in the eyes of God an there was only one thing to do about it: get baptized.
These thoughts all came later. At first, I was certain I was going to die. I lay in the bathtub in pink tinged water that had long since gone cold and waited to die. It was the thought of breathing my last breath and finding myself in eternal agony in hell that made me get up, clean myself off and keep living. It was the thought of my parents faces when they found out how terrible I had been in their absence that kept me from telling them. Ever. (knowing how terrible they would feel about it keeps me from telling them now)
I had night terrors for a month every night after this. I screamed that I was burning in hell and woke my family with my cries. I told my dad that a demon invaded my sleep (we didn't believe in possession occurring modern times because it was something that only happened in Biblical times so Jesus could demonstrate his power) and told me I was going to hell. I finally convinced him to baptize me when I said, "If I died I would go to hell. I see that I am a sinner and I need to be baptized to be saved." My dad couldn't argue with it, even though he thought I was too young to be held accountable. He talked to the preacher and the elders and they agreed that I was intellegent for my age and could be baptized. I was baptized in my bathing suit in the very same bathtub that I rose from weeks earlier. The symbolism is not lost on me. I feel sick, thinking about it now.
This was an easy solution for a child with a limited understanding of the world. The sin was cleansed and I never had to think about it again... if only. I became a bit more militant in my beliefs after being baptized. I felt it was now my responsibility to keep other people from going through what I had, and saving them was the best way to do so. I would like to think that I was still not obnoxious about it, but maybe I was. My best friend moved away, and eventually so did I. My dad resigned from the Air Force when I was 10 and had just started 5th grade. We moved back to the states where we lived with my mom's parents for a while before moving again to Pennsylvania.
A funny thing happens to kids when they get to middle school. By funny, I mean they turn into monsters. That could have just been the area we lived in, but my experience in Reading, PA was truly nightmarish. The only thing that kept me going was knowing that we wouldn't stay there forever. I had no friends at school. The students hated me right off the bat because I had lived in Germany and none of them had ever been out of state. They were incredibly predjudiced against anyone remotely different from themselves. Gossip was the number one pastime, and freaks like us were prime pickings to make fun of. Also, I got all As in a school that had about 30 people repeating 7th grade and 16 repeating it for a third try. There was a 16 year old in 7th grade. Also, many of these students were sexually active, something I could not comprehend doing voluntarily ever. My experience had made me virtually asexual and I felt no attraction to the opposite sex whatsoever. So I was of course assumed to be a lesbian. This hurt me, because of the hatred in their comments. I cared little about being called a lesbian because I was also called a Nazi for living in Germany. I could see the ignorance and was pained by the intent of the commetns more than the comments themselves.
Plus I remember one lovely boy named Thomas who was very kind to me. He was the grandson of a lady on my street and she got us together because she knew we were both unhappy. I told someone at school that I liked him (not romantically but I wanted to put rumors about my sexuality to rest) and she laughed at me "Don't you know he's gay? Hes a faggot, you can't like a faggot. Dike." Hmm. I was on the outside looking in and I didn't like it. I vowed to never treat people this way, no matter what they believed or didn't. The people they were cruel to, a "fat" girl named Tina, a Jewish girl named Heidi, a gay boy named Thomas, a foster kid named Delilah were the only people I met worth being friends with. We were a sad and dejected group of outcasts and never formed a cohesive group to defend ourselves, just a quiet understanding that we were not alone.
The church we went to was much like the other one, now being a teenager the focus was primarily about not doing drugs or having sex. Virginity was held as the most precious gift we posses, especially girls. I was shit-outta-luck in that department and it pained me greatly. I prayed over it constantly, and wondered what my future husband would think when he discovered the terrible truth. I very much dreaded it. My fears were somewhat relieved when I learned that using tampons can break the tell tale sign of virginity and that it doesn't count when that happens. I had an excuse. Churches of Christs are few and far between. This Church was 50 minutes away and several members lived out of state (up to an hour and a half away). It was the nicest church I have ever been a member of, with a real building and carpet and pews and everything. It also had a lovely yard and a pond and cherry tree and this interested me a lot more than the interior of the building. There were 2 girls my age. Both were home schooled and we had very little in common despite my parents attempts to get me to make friends with them. They were nice enough, just extremely sheltered and narrow minded.
Just before 8th grade we moved back to Colorado, my birth place. Aurora to be exact. I'd thank God for that but... you know. My school was wonderful. The students were diverse in every way and I quickly made friends with a wide group of people who enjoyed my somewhat crazy creative side and respected my intelegence and indifference towards dating. One friend was Hindu, one was half Japanese and somewhat Buddhist, a few were agnostic. I found myself arguing against Christians on nearly every subject from homosexuality to the teaching of evolution in schools. Because I argued from a logical standpoint and never from a Biblical one. Its not hard to understand that Biblical reasoning will only effect people who believe the Bible and not everyone does. I would have still told you I was a Christian at this point, and I attended the Church of Christ every week 3 times a week. I kept is as my internal moral code of living but did not try to convert people or insist my views upon them.
In high school my belief crumbled ever faster. I met a Wiccan and adored her. She moved soon after but I always remember her and how beautiful the religion was. I took a world religions class (my dad highly disapproved) and from there it was official. Christianity leaves people on the outside looking in. Things they have no control over ultimately decide their final resting place. Its unfair, its unloving, and its unreasonable. It was only chance that made me born into a Christian home. I could have been born to Native Americans, Hindus, Muslims, or atheists. The sermons of the church I attended (now without any desire to continue) became ever more laughable - the number of people getting to heaven is very small indeed according to the Church of Christ. I'd guess its around 20 by now.
My parents divorced when I was 15. It was shocking, given it was their church I went to my whole life that constantly harped on how utterly wrong it was to do so. But at least their constant fighting was at an end. My dad continued going to church, my mom stopped. It was my dad who cheated, but my mom was on the 'black list' in the eyes of the church because it was she who insisted on the divorce. Yet my dad still insisted on going to church every Sunday. My mom started dating a Messianic soon after I started practicing Wicca alone in secret. This man was way off his rocker, and made my mom nuts too. We went to their church on Saturdays (my fully indoctrinated brother fought the whole time and made the most terrible faces during the services). Messianic church was okay. I liked the dancing a lot. But the sermons made no sense to me and took way too long. My dad still took us to church on Sundays so I also hated the pointless loss of my entire weekend. Crazy boyfriend realized what my pentacle meant and convinced my mom that I was summoning evil spirits and might even be possessed. My whole life she never believed in demon possession but she was nearly convinced to get me exorcised. He just threw holy water at me from time to time to... see if I burst into flame? I am not really sure why. This of course made me all the more fed up with the whole thing. My dad's church continued to get more and more ridiculous with a new pastor. The church might be a certifiable cult now; my dad still attends.
My mom's crazy boyfriend finally broke up with her for another woman (he tried to return 4 months later but shes not that stupid). She started going to church sporadically, usually the slightly more liberal Church of Christ (incidentally this church was much closer to our house but my dad insisted on taking us to the psycho one in downtown Denver). I would go but I remember little about it. I preferred it to the crazy one and spent most of the time writing in my journals about my new spiritual theories. During this time I started dating my current husband. We met when I was 16 and he was 15. He was never brought up religious at all though his mom attends United Methodist Church. He went through a lot to help me come to grips with everything that happened to me. He helped me through the severe depression that came with opening the old wounds and finally I understood that it was not my fault. Nearly 3 years later we would finally have sex and I would not feel terror, guilt or agony.
I got a job after high school and finally was able to stop going to church all together. Until this point my dad still insisted that I go with him every other weekend (my mom was able to free me of the weekends with her). I felt bad because I didn't see my dad much after that, but so relieved that I didn't have to face the judgment over my pentacle, my pink hair, my eye brow piercing. I got officially withdrawn from a year or so later but it didn't change anything as no one from the church ever talked to me outside of the building anyway. Except my dad who obviously didn't cut me off because despite his insane church going habits he is a decent father.
The most damage done has been to my brother with aspergers who is the most hate filled doctrine spouting person I have ever met. People with aspergers have a tick (or several) that they obsess over. My brother does this with religion and politics to a frightening extreme. I will blame the church if he ever does something crazy like shoot an abortion doctor and I see this as a very real possibility. Even my dad thinks he goes to far with his ranting and raving. My mom may or may not believe. She does not talk about it with me, I think because she feels bad for what she put me through growing up. She definitely does not believe in the brand of Church of Christ Christianity.
I would describe myself as an atheist pagan. I started with Wicca, and still call myself a witch (because people's reactions are hilarious for one) but I do not believe in a conscious deity. I do enjoy the rituals and the symbolism of the practice. I think of it as a connection to the earth and the natural world in a real way, not a faith based way. The Goddess and God merely symbolize aspects of the universe and I do not worship them or expect them to intercede in my life (as they are not conscious beings). More on what I believe now some other time.
This was insanely long, but I have been thinking about it a lot and wanted to get it out. No one has to read it, if you did, thanks very much for 'listening'. I
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