Some people, when they hear that I became an atheist after being a Christian for over 40 years, deny the possibility of such a thing. In some way or another, they say, "No, that couldn't be. You must not have been a real Christian."
This is an example of what is known as the "no true Scotsman" fallacy--an attempt to maintain a stereotype by redefining a term so as to exclude an example. What I want to say here is that by any common definition of the term "Christian," I was one.
If you arbitrarily define the term Christian so as to exclude someone who later loses his faith, then by your definition I was never a Christian, and you don't need to read any further. I don't see that as a useful definition of the term, however, because it doesn't allow you to identify someone as a Christian until they die. It doesn't even tell you if you are one yourself.
When someone calls my Christianity into question, I respond on one of three levels depending on how well the person knows me:
1. A stranger--someone who doesn't know my Christian background--has no basis for asserting that I was not a Christian.
2. An acquaintance--someone who knows about my Christian background but doesn't know me well--may grant that I had some reason to consider myself a Christian, but assume that I didn't have a strong faith.
3. A friend--someone who knows me well--is grasping at straws in an attempt to reconcile their knowledge of who I am with their conviction that no person who has experienced the goodness of God could reject that ultimate blessing. Such a belief is consistent with the idea of a good God, but inconsistent with my experience.
Christian Life
A stranger who summarily dismisses my claim to have been a Christian for many years may assume that I was what might be called a "cultural Christian"--someone who considers himself to be a Christian because that's what all good people are, whether they're active in a church or not. To the contrary, I based my life on strong Christian beliefs.
I was raised in a devout fundamentalist Christian family. When my high school counselor suggested that I consider applying to Vanderbilt University, I instead chose a small Christian college which required a Bible class and chapel every day. In the various places I have lived, I was very active in several types of churches:
Church of Christ (fundamentalist)
Presbyterian Church in the US (mainline Protestant)
Assemblies of God (pentecostal)
Fellowship of the Way of Christ (charismatic house church)
United Methodist Church (mainline Protestant)
Non-denominational charismatic church
Vineyard Christian Fellowship (charismatic)
Evangelical Presbyterian Church (evangelical Protestant)
I financially supported my churches and other Christian organizations, including Focus on the Family and Samaritan's Purse.
I taught Bible classes and led home discussion groups. I read the Bible aloud and led prayers at home, in churches, and in an office prayer group. My wife and I hosted music parties consisting of worship music in our home. On a few occasions I led worship services, preached sermons, and gave testimonies. I participated in the Dunamis Project, Tres Dias, and Promise-Keepers events, and helped to lead spiritual retreats.
Any religious survey or casual observer would unquestionably categorize me as a Christian.
Personal Faith
Many Christians, though, would point out that church involvement is all well and good, but it's quite common to be an active church member without a strong personal faith. Considering a spectrum of devotion from a "Christmas and Easter" churchgoer to a serious monk, I can give some specific evidence that, although I was a computer programmer, I was closer to the monkish end.
Over four decades, I studied the Bible regularly and read scores of Christian books. I took college courses in Bible and classical Greek. I subscribed to "Christianity Today" and read it avidly. In my late 40's I took the time to write several pages describing my theology, intending to give them to my sons to counteract what I saw as false teachings in all the churches I knew of.
All my life, my favorite part of worship services was singing. I especially loved the Vineyard songs, because they were consistently addressed to God, praising him and praying for him to do his work in me and in the world.
I prayed informally, but frequently and fervently--sometimes for extended periods, sometimes in song, but most often in single sentences as I was working or going about my daily activities. My first impulse on learning of a problem I couldn't address myself was to pray. I prayed continually for God's guidance in making any decision of consequence.
I trusted God to take care of me and do what he knew to be best for me and everyone. I did what I thought he wanted me to do, but I didn't worry too much if things didn't go as I hoped, because I knew that God had the ultimate control over everything.
Although members of exclusivist groups like Roman Catholics and Mormons would not consider me to be a true Christian, I believe that the vast majority of other Christian leaders and theologians would.
Knowing God
Some close friends of mine, while acknowledging that I was a Christian, are more concerned with my relationship with God than with my religious affiliation.
They may suppose that my faith in God was merely a result of believing what I had been taught and my behavior was simply the result of practicing what I believed. Perhaps I was just "going through the motions" out of a desire to do the right thing, rather than acting in the power of the Holy Spirit as a loving response to a personal relationship with God.
That is exactly what I believe.
To someone who says to me, "You never really knew God," I say, "That's quite true. You can't know someone who doesn't exist." I could never know God because there is no God to know.
Apostasy Theories
Christians, of course have other hypotheses as to how I could have been (at least apparently) a Christian who subsequently lost my faith in God:
1. I am not one of God's elect.
John Calvin's doctrine of predestination offers the possibility that I'm simply not one of the elect--that God knows what's best and he didn't choose me. That is a non-answer, of course, because it doesn't explain why I am not one of the elect. And it does me no good, because it says there's nothing I can do to change my status; I'm bound for hell--end of story.
I may be misrepresenting Calvinism here, and I doubt that many Christians would describe my status in this way, because I can't see how to reconcile such an idea with the thrust of the New Testament and the traditions of the church. To me, this idea implies that God is unjust. It is thoroughly contradicted by the concept of the gospel as good news.
To someone who believes this, though, I have to grant that it is a reasonable explanation of my apostasy.
2. I failed to recognize God.
Based on any theology I'm aware of other than Calvinism, it seems very unlikely that God tried to reveal himself to me but I failed to recognize him. I don't know of any Biblical doctrine that would suggest that God would not successfully reveal himself to someone who was open to such a revelation.
Some people insist that God has revealed himself to me in many ways: in the Bible, through preachers, teachers, prophets, my friends, book authors, through circumstances, and directly in my own mind. Of course I used to believe that myself.
All of those communication methods except the last two are indirect--through other people. It is clear that all those people are passing along a religious tradition. I can see no evidence that they are mouthpieces through which the creator of the universe is speaking to me.
The last two of those "communication methods," circumstances and my mind, are both my interpretations of events and thoughts. They are heavily influenced by what I have been taught by other people, so to a large extent, they also come from other people. To the extent that they were not due to the influence of other people, I thought that they originated either in my own mind or from God, but I saw no way to determine how much, if any, came from God.
Knowing how easily people's worldviews are molded by their upbringing and society, it doesn't seem wise to accept what I've been taught without strong evidence to support it. I was exposed to a wide variety of theological doctrines, and found none that made sense to me. If I failed to recognize God because he only communicated with me through other people, I would have to conclude that he was unwilling to show me which of their ideas were accurate.
3. I refused to accept him.
This seems similarly unlikely. Only the idea of arbitrary predestination would allow for the possibility that someone would try to serve God for 40 years while refusing to accept him.
4. I failed to approach God humbly.
Some people have suggested that I needed to accept God on his terms rather than mine, saying that I just needed to wait for God to reveal himself to me when he (or I) was ready. For my part, I could see no reason for such a delay, and I saw nothing in all Christian teaching to indicate that God would not be ready when I was. I wasn't demanding that God reveal himself to me within a certain time period; I was merely waiting for him to do so. But after 40 years, it began to seem unlikely that I would someday begin to see convincing evidence that God was more than a religious tradition.
5. I was deceived by the Devil and rebelled against God.
This is a common theory, but it just raises the question of why God would allow me to be so deceived instead of revealing himself to me.
6. God gave up on me because of persistent sin.
One answer is that I was so persistent in some sin that God abandoned me to suffer the consequences of that sin, causing me to see my foolishness and give it up. This is plausible as a concept, but it I was not aware of persistently committing any sin. As a very conscientious person, I seldom do things I believe to be bad, and when I do, I readily apologize and try to do better. Perhaps I rationalized my sin so thoroughly that I was no longer able to recognize it as a sin. In that case, I needed for God to reveal it to me, not abandon me to it.
Furthermore, this idea is difficult to reconcile with the "gospel" that Jesus takes away our sins. I was taught that the undefined "sin against the Holy Spirit" is the only kind that can't be forgiven. I knew that I had never done such a thing intentionally, and I believed that God would not be so unfair as to irredeemably condemn someone for accidentally breaking some obscure rule.
In any event, abandonment, if it has occurred, doesn't appear to be a very effective approach. For the most part, I'm enjoying my life very much; I don't know anyone whose life I would prefer to mine.
7. I didn't seek God with my whole heart.
I am not aware of any theology which suggests that God would refuse to reveal himself to someone who might have reservations or selfish motives. This would require perfection of anyone who wants to know God personally.
Some people have quoted Jeremiah 29:13 to tell me that if I want God more than anything else, I can still find him. I believe this to be true because I know that people can convince themselves of anything if they want it badly enough. However, I am not willing to sacrifice reality to gain faith in an imaginary God.
8. I never experienced God's grace.
Some people close to me lament that I never had a profound conversion experience in which I realized the depth of my depravity and the wonder of being freed from it by God's forgiveness.
Personally, I'm grateful that I felt enough love from my parents that I never felt that I was fundamentally a worthless sinner. I feel sorry for people who feel that way about themselves; the comfort they take in God's forgiveness never seems adequate to free them from the shame into which they have been indoctrinated.
Many of these comments on my apostasy try to defend God by blaming me for doing something wrong--failing to seek God, rejecting him, or rebelling against him. My testimony is that I sought him to the best of my ability. To anyone who feels that my efforts simply fell short, I would ask why it is so difficult to know a god who is supposedly all-wise, all-powerful, and longs for me to know him.
Everyone has a slightly different definition of what makes someone a Christian, but I was certainly what I believed a Christian to be. If I was not a true Christian, then I have never to my knowledge met or even heard of one.
Showing posts with label religion. Show all posts
Showing posts with label religion. Show all posts
Thursday, August 30, 2012
Sunday, February 5, 2012
Favorite Bible Translation
My favorite bible for my last couple of decades as a Christian was the Good News Bible, aka Today's English Version. I liked it because it's a good translation, not a paraphrase like The Message. I appreciated its modern, idiomatic English, which avoids the sometimes awkward phrasing of other translations.
I found that the readability of the GNB made it a good choice for reading aloud, and its clear, contemporary phrasing helped me read with a more open mind because it didn't trigger the pre-digested interpretations that I associated with the wording of more literal translations. I was often asked what version I was reading from, but few other people seemed to appreciate it like I did.
At the time, I wondered why it wasn't more popular. Now I think that may be because it makes the text so clear that people find it unsupportive of their preferred interpretations.
The Good News Bible is now on-line.
I found that the readability of the GNB made it a good choice for reading aloud, and its clear, contemporary phrasing helped me read with a more open mind because it didn't trigger the pre-digested interpretations that I associated with the wording of more literal translations. I was often asked what version I was reading from, but few other people seemed to appreciate it like I did.
At the time, I wondered why it wasn't more popular. Now I think that may be because it makes the text so clear that people find it unsupportive of their preferred interpretations.
The Good News Bible is now on-line.
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Evolution Denial
An article in this month's Christianity Today reported on the resignation of a respected theology professor brought about by his acceptance of evolution. It reminded me of the many years during which I was a Christian embarrassed by the common evangelical denial of evolution. I had trouble understanding why God didn't teach these obviously committed believers that their dogma was wrong.
I left this comment on the CT article:
I left this comment on the CT article:
When Christians insist that the beliefs of other Christians must match their own, they put themselves the head of the church. When Christians deny evolution, they declare that their understanding of nature (based on their understanding of the Bible) is better than that of people who have spent their lives studying nature. Such arrogance is strong evidence that it is human nature, not the Holy Spirit, that guided these people to their "truth."
Saturday, February 9, 2008
Thinking about Heaven
Scott Carson makes some thoughtful comments in his blog about a recent Time Magazine interview with Anglican Bishop N.T. Wright on the subject of concepts of heaven.
I was interested in Bishop Wright's comments because they were much like what I believed about heaven when I was a Christian. (I once shocked a couple of Jehovah's Witnesses by agreeing with them that Jesus will rule on the earth.)
As I read Wright's interview, it occurred to me that ruling the new earth sounds like a recipe for an eternal Excedrin headache. It makes Scott's facetious remark about eternally milking the cows sound idyllic.
Scott's suggestion is "Don't worry about what it's like; it just is."
I think the point he's making is to not try to project too much of what this life is like into the next one. If we weren't at all concerned about what heaven is like, we couldn't say anything about it at all. After all, it would certainly be a bummer if heaven turned out to be like the popular image of hell.
So what can we say about heaven? To me, that's the tough question. I can't come up with a plausible description. What that says to me is that I can't conceive of an afterlife.
I was interested in Bishop Wright's comments because they were much like what I believed about heaven when I was a Christian. (I once shocked a couple of Jehovah's Witnesses by agreeing with them that Jesus will rule on the earth.)
As I read Wright's interview, it occurred to me that ruling the new earth sounds like a recipe for an eternal Excedrin headache. It makes Scott's facetious remark about eternally milking the cows sound idyllic.
Scott's suggestion is "Don't worry about what it's like; it just is."
I think the point he's making is to not try to project too much of what this life is like into the next one. If we weren't at all concerned about what heaven is like, we couldn't say anything about it at all. After all, it would certainly be a bummer if heaven turned out to be like the popular image of hell.
So what can we say about heaven? To me, that's the tough question. I can't come up with a plausible description. What that says to me is that I can't conceive of an afterlife.
Sunday, November 4, 2007
My answers to questions often asked of atheists.
The Friendly Atheist has asked atheists to give brief answers to several questions that are often asked of atheists. Here are my answers:
Why do you not believe in God?
Everything I’ve learned about the universe leads me to believe that it operates by natural processes. I don’t see any convincing evidence that there are supernatural beings of any kind.
Where do your morals come from?
Morals are ways of dealing with common problems of living. I make moral decisions on the basis of my estimation of what would bring me the greatest happiness in the long run. This includes the well-being of my family, friends, and all people.
What is the meaning of life?
The meaning of a person’s life is the message communicated to other people by that person’s words and actions. The idea that a particular message is intended by someone or something outside of that person is a natural consequence of belief in gods, but it implies that people are not responsible for their own lives.
Is atheism a religion?
Theism and atheism are beliefs about the existence of one or more supernatural beings that control or influence life. Neither is a religion in itself. There are many theistic religions, and many atheistic ways of living.
If you don’t pray, what do you do during troubling times?
I read, think about what I have read or experienced, talk with other people about the issues that concern me, write about my concerns as a way to help me think about them, and take whatever actions I can to improve the situation.
Should atheists be trying to convince others to stop believing in God?
Learning the truth is the best foundation I know of for making wise decisions. We should all present our reasons for what we believe to be the truth, and be open to learn from each other.
Weren’t some of the worst atrocities in the 20th century committed by atheists?
All the worst atrocities were committed by people who considered other people to be less human than themselves. Their actions were guided by their personal agendas more than by their nominal affiliations with particular religious or philosophical stances.
How could billions of people be wrong when it comes to belief in God?
Billions of people disagree with other billions of people about everything, including belief in gods. They can’t all be right.
Why does the universe exist?
Our current knowledge of the universe is inadequate to know the answer to this.
How did life originate?
This question is being researched, but many aspects of the origin of life are still unclear. To the best of our knowledge, the first living organisms developed from self-replicating molecules that formed from combinations of simpler molecules.
Is all religion harmful?
The greatest harm caused by religion is that many religious belief systems encourage people to treat other people in ways they would not want to be treated themselves. Religions that are tolerant and respectful of other people are nevertheless harmful in that they promote false beliefs and ways of thinking that discourage learning.
What’s so bad about religious moderates?
Religious moderates are not bad. Their values are generally humane, and their influence often tempers the effects of extremist positions.
Is there anything redeeming about religion?
Religious groups provide opportunities to develop friendships with people who share similar values. Cohesive groups often provide emotional and physical support when needed.
Religion itself can offer comfort in difficult times as well as a sense of worth in being part of a beneficial historic or cosmic movement.
What if you’re wrong about God (and He does exist)?
If I’m wrong, I’m wrong. The implications of that would depend on what the god is like. If the god is strict and demanding, we’re all in trouble. If the god is loving and merciful, we don’t have anything to worry about.
Shouldn’t all religious beliefs be respected?
All people should be respected. Beliefs deserve respect to the degree that they are supported by evidence, not merely because someone holds to them.
Are atheists smarter than theists?
I doubt that there is any difference in intelligence between theists and atheists. I do believe there is a positive correlation between atheism and a broad education.
How do you deal with the historical Jesus if you don’t believe in his divinity?
Jesus was a man whose life was exaggerated to promote him as a deity, and whose teachings have been adapted to support the purposes of other teachers who followed him.
Would the world be better off without any religion?
The world would be better off with more focus on truth—without religion or superstition in any form.
What happens when we die?
Like all other living things that die, we decompose, and the substances of which we are made are recycled.
Why do you not believe in God?
Everything I’ve learned about the universe leads me to believe that it operates by natural processes. I don’t see any convincing evidence that there are supernatural beings of any kind.
Where do your morals come from?
Morals are ways of dealing with common problems of living. I make moral decisions on the basis of my estimation of what would bring me the greatest happiness in the long run. This includes the well-being of my family, friends, and all people.
What is the meaning of life?
The meaning of a person’s life is the message communicated to other people by that person’s words and actions. The idea that a particular message is intended by someone or something outside of that person is a natural consequence of belief in gods, but it implies that people are not responsible for their own lives.
Is atheism a religion?
Theism and atheism are beliefs about the existence of one or more supernatural beings that control or influence life. Neither is a religion in itself. There are many theistic religions, and many atheistic ways of living.
If you don’t pray, what do you do during troubling times?
I read, think about what I have read or experienced, talk with other people about the issues that concern me, write about my concerns as a way to help me think about them, and take whatever actions I can to improve the situation.
Should atheists be trying to convince others to stop believing in God?
Learning the truth is the best foundation I know of for making wise decisions. We should all present our reasons for what we believe to be the truth, and be open to learn from each other.
Weren’t some of the worst atrocities in the 20th century committed by atheists?
All the worst atrocities were committed by people who considered other people to be less human than themselves. Their actions were guided by their personal agendas more than by their nominal affiliations with particular religious or philosophical stances.
How could billions of people be wrong when it comes to belief in God?
Billions of people disagree with other billions of people about everything, including belief in gods. They can’t all be right.
Why does the universe exist?
Our current knowledge of the universe is inadequate to know the answer to this.
How did life originate?
This question is being researched, but many aspects of the origin of life are still unclear. To the best of our knowledge, the first living organisms developed from self-replicating molecules that formed from combinations of simpler molecules.
Is all religion harmful?
The greatest harm caused by religion is that many religious belief systems encourage people to treat other people in ways they would not want to be treated themselves. Religions that are tolerant and respectful of other people are nevertheless harmful in that they promote false beliefs and ways of thinking that discourage learning.
What’s so bad about religious moderates?
Religious moderates are not bad. Their values are generally humane, and their influence often tempers the effects of extremist positions.
Is there anything redeeming about religion?
Religious groups provide opportunities to develop friendships with people who share similar values. Cohesive groups often provide emotional and physical support when needed.
Religion itself can offer comfort in difficult times as well as a sense of worth in being part of a beneficial historic or cosmic movement.
What if you’re wrong about God (and He does exist)?
If I’m wrong, I’m wrong. The implications of that would depend on what the god is like. If the god is strict and demanding, we’re all in trouble. If the god is loving and merciful, we don’t have anything to worry about.
Shouldn’t all religious beliefs be respected?
All people should be respected. Beliefs deserve respect to the degree that they are supported by evidence, not merely because someone holds to them.
Are atheists smarter than theists?
I doubt that there is any difference in intelligence between theists and atheists. I do believe there is a positive correlation between atheism and a broad education.
How do you deal with the historical Jesus if you don’t believe in his divinity?
Jesus was a man whose life was exaggerated to promote him as a deity, and whose teachings have been adapted to support the purposes of other teachers who followed him.
Would the world be better off without any religion?
The world would be better off with more focus on truth—without religion or superstition in any form.
What happens when we die?
Like all other living things that die, we decompose, and the substances of which we are made are recycled.
Saturday, July 17, 2004
On the Edge: my own version of Christianity (my story part 3)
From the solemn gloom of the temple, children run out to sit in the dust, God watches them play, and forgets the priest – Rabindranath Tagore
Having discovered that my childhood understanding of God wasn't necessarily the only possible one, I continued to explore ideas and adapt my theology to what I learned by reading and experience. Some that broadened my thinking about God and his dealings with people were:
J.B. Phillips, Your God Is Too Small
Becky Pippert, Out of the Saltshaker and Into the World
Edith Schaeffer, Hidden Art
James W. Sire, The Universe Next Door: A Basic World View Catalog
Philip Yancey, The Jesus I Never Knew, and What's So Amazing About Grace?
From Pippert's book, I learned that people are more important to God than rules. That idea seemed to be confirmed by what I saw happening in the lives of people I knew. I saw a wide variety of people enthusiastically worshiping God and sacrificially giving their time to serve other people. It seemed to me that they truly exhibited the presence of God's Spirit—in spite of the fact that they were very different in their beliefs and practices: Catholics, Seventh Day Adventists, Jesus-only Pentecostals, Messianic Jews, career soldiers, liquor dealers and homosexuals.
I rejected the idea of a seven-day creation as a young adult. I thought the theory of age-long days stretched the text far beyond the point of sense, and it seemed obvious that the theory of created fossils was the product of desperation. I was embarrassed by the strong opposition of many Christians to the concept of evolution.
I noticed in the last few years that I tended to think of God as one rather than as a trinity. Since the Bible ascribes the same attributes to each member of the trinity, I didn't understand how they could be distinguished. Jesus, of course, had the experience of being a man, but when he was said to live in us, that seemed to me to be the Holy Spirit. That was an example of the difficulty I had with the doctrine of the trinity. Considering that the Bible contains only one clear trinitarian reference, that doctrine seemed to me to be merely a theory that created an unnecessary complication to our understanding of God.
Over the years I gradually came to feel that the descriptions of the afterlife given by Christians were unlikely to be at all accurate. An eternal life of pure joy was inconceivable to me. The joys we have in this life come from things like overcoming obstacles, so without any pain or suffering, joy would lose its meaning. I decided that "heaven" must be a situation so different from what we know now that no words could describe it.
I also gave little credence to the common expectation that Jesus will return to earth soon. I figured that if 2000 years can be considered soon, then 10,000 years can just as easily be considered soon. I didn't see the increasing corruption in the world that other people saw; in fact, it seemed to me that human history has shown considerable improvement in the way people treat each other, even though progress is slow and there are many setbacks.
At one point, I read a lot of the Bible in a short period of time, trying to get a high-level perspective on it. In that reading, my view of the nature of the Bible changed somewhat. It appeared to me that the Bible was more of a collection of testimonies about what God had done than the "guide to faith and practice" that most evangelical churches consider it to be. I increasingly came to believe that the Bible is a human document with no more authority than other books. This view made it awkward to join a couple of the churches of which I have been a member because I couldn't fully subscribe to their statements of faith.
Having been raised in a non-liturgical church and being a charismatic Christian most of my life, I've never felt that formality was a necessary part of prayer or worship. Over the years, I increasingly felt that church attendance and other traditional devotional activities were unnecessary and unhelpful. For example, I preferred to pray with thoughts--or better yet, actions--rather than words, and I believed that ordinary life is as much worship as any religious activity. I considered an intimate relationship with God to consist of allowing him to direct my thoughts and being inclined to agree with him, feel his feelings, and do whatever he suggested.
For many years, I took seriously the frequently-heard teaching that our vocation is what we're called by God to do, and that not everyone is called to a religious profession. I felt called to be a computer programmer, and I considered that my ministry, but whenever I heard someone referred to as a minister or as "going into the ministry," I felt that I was on the wrong side of a double standard. I couldn't understand why some people were ordained to be "ministers," but nobody was ever ordained as a programmer or as a homemaker. In the area of earning a living, as well as in prayer and worship, I could not find the line that distinguished between sacred and secular or holy and worldly.
In 1998 it occurred to me that what we call natural law is simply our understanding of how God usually works and that what we call miracles are simply unexpected acts of God for which we have no scientific explanation. I decided that natural and supernatural are arbitrary categories, not qualitatively different types of things, so there is no real distinction between them. Here's what I wrote in my journal:
Expanding on that idea, I wondered about what kind of relationship aliens might have to God. I thought it was unlikely that we're the only fallen race in the universe, and wondered how we should tell others about our faith if we were ever able to communicate with them. I concluded that we can testify to them of what God has done for us, whether he has provided for their salvation through Jesus, or in another way. In 2002 I read Ray Kurzweil's book The Age of Spiritual Machines and pondered questions about the applicability of Christianity to artificial intelligences.
I decided that we should expect God to have communicated with other cultures, alien or not, in ways which aren't part of our traditions. I also thought we should be willing to learn from other religions, recognizing that God has communicated with their founders and leaders, and affirm whatever truth they have received from him. It seemed to me that the traditional Christian claim of exclusive truth is an unwarranted and arrogant extension of the truth that our God is the only real God. I felt that we should acknowledge that our understanding of God's revelations to us, and especially our application of them, is not necessarily correct.
In 2001, one of the elders of our church asked me about my relationship with God. I told him that I considered God to be present and active in every detail of my existence, and that without him I wouldn't exist at all. Looking back on it, I think he was looking for some human relationship (lord, friend, etc.) as a metaphor. I think this shows that although I considered my relationship with God to be intimate, it was in fact abstract and theoretical.
Earlier in my life I had thought things would change as I matured "in Christ." I would get closer to God, share his feelings about other people, and gain more understanding of life. As I matured, I was very disappointed to find that I didn't see the "fruit of the Spirit" that I had thought would grow. I was especially frustrated by all the teaching I heard about relationship with God, because I couldn't see that mine was growing at all. I couldn't figure out how to build a relationship with someone I couldn't see or hear. I knew that God spoke in my mind, but since I couldn't tell which thoughts were his and which were mine, I couldn't tell if I was communing with him or merely thinking.
In 2002 I was excited about The Sacred Romance and the other John Eldredge books. They presented a more loving picture of God than any other Christian works I knew of. They also encouraged a freer, more creative response to him. Creativity seemed to me to be an appropriate response to God, the great creator. For a long time I had been disappointed that Christian arts seemed to follow the lead of secular ones. I felt that it should be the other way around. Now I see that the creativity of Christian artists is hindered by the constrained thinking taught by the church, so it's not at all surprising if they are often less creative than people who don't feel that they must believe certain things or behave in certain ways.
For several months I had felt that I was "on the edge" of Christianity. I wanted to serve God and follow Jesus, but more creatively than the conventional Christian ways. I sometimes felt that I was a Christian, and other times that I was not, but it didn't matter much to me because I still believed that God was the creator and lord of the universe, and I knew I was devoted to him.
Having discovered that my childhood understanding of God wasn't necessarily the only possible one, I continued to explore ideas and adapt my theology to what I learned by reading and experience. Some that broadened my thinking about God and his dealings with people were:
J.B. Phillips, Your God Is Too Small
Becky Pippert, Out of the Saltshaker and Into the World
Edith Schaeffer, Hidden Art
James W. Sire, The Universe Next Door: A Basic World View Catalog
Philip Yancey, The Jesus I Never Knew, and What's So Amazing About Grace?
From Pippert's book, I learned that people are more important to God than rules. That idea seemed to be confirmed by what I saw happening in the lives of people I knew. I saw a wide variety of people enthusiastically worshiping God and sacrificially giving their time to serve other people. It seemed to me that they truly exhibited the presence of God's Spirit—in spite of the fact that they were very different in their beliefs and practices: Catholics, Seventh Day Adventists, Jesus-only Pentecostals, Messianic Jews, career soldiers, liquor dealers and homosexuals.
I rejected the idea of a seven-day creation as a young adult. I thought the theory of age-long days stretched the text far beyond the point of sense, and it seemed obvious that the theory of created fossils was the product of desperation. I was embarrassed by the strong opposition of many Christians to the concept of evolution.
I noticed in the last few years that I tended to think of God as one rather than as a trinity. Since the Bible ascribes the same attributes to each member of the trinity, I didn't understand how they could be distinguished. Jesus, of course, had the experience of being a man, but when he was said to live in us, that seemed to me to be the Holy Spirit. That was an example of the difficulty I had with the doctrine of the trinity. Considering that the Bible contains only one clear trinitarian reference, that doctrine seemed to me to be merely a theory that created an unnecessary complication to our understanding of God.
Over the years I gradually came to feel that the descriptions of the afterlife given by Christians were unlikely to be at all accurate. An eternal life of pure joy was inconceivable to me. The joys we have in this life come from things like overcoming obstacles, so without any pain or suffering, joy would lose its meaning. I decided that "heaven" must be a situation so different from what we know now that no words could describe it.
I also gave little credence to the common expectation that Jesus will return to earth soon. I figured that if 2000 years can be considered soon, then 10,000 years can just as easily be considered soon. I didn't see the increasing corruption in the world that other people saw; in fact, it seemed to me that human history has shown considerable improvement in the way people treat each other, even though progress is slow and there are many setbacks.
At one point, I read a lot of the Bible in a short period of time, trying to get a high-level perspective on it. In that reading, my view of the nature of the Bible changed somewhat. It appeared to me that the Bible was more of a collection of testimonies about what God had done than the "guide to faith and practice" that most evangelical churches consider it to be. I increasingly came to believe that the Bible is a human document with no more authority than other books. This view made it awkward to join a couple of the churches of which I have been a member because I couldn't fully subscribe to their statements of faith.
Having been raised in a non-liturgical church and being a charismatic Christian most of my life, I've never felt that formality was a necessary part of prayer or worship. Over the years, I increasingly felt that church attendance and other traditional devotional activities were unnecessary and unhelpful. For example, I preferred to pray with thoughts--or better yet, actions--rather than words, and I believed that ordinary life is as much worship as any religious activity. I considered an intimate relationship with God to consist of allowing him to direct my thoughts and being inclined to agree with him, feel his feelings, and do whatever he suggested.
For many years, I took seriously the frequently-heard teaching that our vocation is what we're called by God to do, and that not everyone is called to a religious profession. I felt called to be a computer programmer, and I considered that my ministry, but whenever I heard someone referred to as a minister or as "going into the ministry," I felt that I was on the wrong side of a double standard. I couldn't understand why some people were ordained to be "ministers," but nobody was ever ordained as a programmer or as a homemaker. In the area of earning a living, as well as in prayer and worship, I could not find the line that distinguished between sacred and secular or holy and worldly.
In 1998 it occurred to me that what we call natural law is simply our understanding of how God usually works and that what we call miracles are simply unexpected acts of God for which we have no scientific explanation. I decided that natural and supernatural are arbitrary categories, not qualitatively different types of things, so there is no real distinction between them. Here's what I wrote in my journal:
5/24/98 I woke up this morning thinking about M Fellowship and trying to put my finger on what's wrong with it. In a sense, they seem to rely only on spiritual gifts of discernment and prophecy to minister to people they don't know. On the other hand, I suspect their prophets have also been trained, or have learned by experience, to pick up subtle clues from a person's appearance and speech that guide their prophetic ministry to that person. My feeling is that they should do both of these as much as they can, but that they could minister much more effectively if they also took time to get to know the person. It seems that they would consider this a "human" or "fleshly" ministry rather than a spiritual one, and thus much less desirable.
We've been taught that we consist of three parts: body, soul and spirit. According to this theory, our mind, will and emotions are aspects of our soul. Our spirit is defined very vaguely as the part of us that interacts with the spiritual world.
The words used in the Bible for "soul", though, would probably be better translated "self" or "being", which implies that our "soul" is the totality of our being, and can be thought of as including both body and spirit. This is supported by Genesis 2:7. Perhaps the spirit should be thought of as the non-physical aspects of our mind, will and emotions. These are the areas which interact with other spirits, which also appear to have minds, wills and emotions.
By these definitions, it's clear that at least some animals have spirits, while others may not, and there seems to be no evidence that plants or non-living objects have spirits, except in a metaphorical sense. (Old Man Willow in the Old Forest clearly had a spirit.)
What bearing does this have on M-style ministry? It suggests that spiritual revelation may come through the mind or emotions, so it may not necessarily be "miraculous." It suggests that such "non-miraculous" revelation may be highly desirable and that in fact, it may be much more prevalent and effective than revelation which is "miraculous."
I use quotation marks here because it seems the distinction between miraculous and non-miraculous events is solely in our perceived ability to understand and explain their causes. The distinction is usually made that the former involve direct intervention by God to override the laws of nature. It seems to me that everything happens by direct action by God (and other spirits, including ours), and what we call natural law is simply our understanding of how God usually works.
The purpose I see in miracles is to evoke faith in unbelievers and to build the faith of believers. Both of these are valuable, of course, but obvious miracles aren't the only means God uses to accomplish his goal of building faith. In fact, miracles generally seem to be effective only temporarily, if at all. We always discount what happened a long time ago, and pay more attention to what is happening today.
It seems to me that M ministers (and many others) are looking for God to work in ways other than those he usually uses. This seems presumptuous, and indicative of a lack of appreciation for his faithful, everyday, "natural" provision. Attempting to speak God's word to a person while avoiding knowledge of that person's needs appears to be an attempt to manipulate God into performing miracles. Perhaps this is a sign of a lack of faith. It doesn't make sense not to trust God to care for us in the ways he usually does, and at the same time hope he will care for us miraculously. This seems to me to be the approach of people who reject medical care while praying for miraculous healing.
In 1999 or thereabouts, I read a book that turned out to be one of the most influential in my life, Charles Kraft's Christianity in Culture. Written by a highly-respected missionary as training for missionaries, that book showed me that much of what I've always thought of as Christianity is merely the forms adopted by Christians in my culture. Disillusioned with the traditional forms myself, and concerned with communicating the gospel to people in my culture, I began looking for the essential core of Christianity that would be the same in any culture. I never succeeded in distinguishing that core, and eventually came to believe that what we call Christianity is cultural in nature, rather than an absolute norm for everybody.
Expanding on that idea, I wondered about what kind of relationship aliens might have to God. I thought it was unlikely that we're the only fallen race in the universe, and wondered how we should tell others about our faith if we were ever able to communicate with them. I concluded that we can testify to them of what God has done for us, whether he has provided for their salvation through Jesus, or in another way. In 2002 I read Ray Kurzweil's book The Age of Spiritual Machines and pondered questions about the applicability of Christianity to artificial intelligences.
I decided that we should expect God to have communicated with other cultures, alien or not, in ways which aren't part of our traditions. I also thought we should be willing to learn from other religions, recognizing that God has communicated with their founders and leaders, and affirm whatever truth they have received from him. It seemed to me that the traditional Christian claim of exclusive truth is an unwarranted and arrogant extension of the truth that our God is the only real God. I felt that we should acknowledge that our understanding of God's revelations to us, and especially our application of them, is not necessarily correct.
In 2001, one of the elders of our church asked me about my relationship with God. I told him that I considered God to be present and active in every detail of my existence, and that without him I wouldn't exist at all. Looking back on it, I think he was looking for some human relationship (lord, friend, etc.) as a metaphor. I think this shows that although I considered my relationship with God to be intimate, it was in fact abstract and theoretical.
Earlier in my life I had thought things would change as I matured "in Christ." I would get closer to God, share his feelings about other people, and gain more understanding of life. As I matured, I was very disappointed to find that I didn't see the "fruit of the Spirit" that I had thought would grow. I was especially frustrated by all the teaching I heard about relationship with God, because I couldn't see that mine was growing at all. I couldn't figure out how to build a relationship with someone I couldn't see or hear. I knew that God spoke in my mind, but since I couldn't tell which thoughts were his and which were mine, I couldn't tell if I was communing with him or merely thinking.
In 2002 I was excited about The Sacred Romance and the other John Eldredge books. They presented a more loving picture of God than any other Christian works I knew of. They also encouraged a freer, more creative response to him. Creativity seemed to me to be an appropriate response to God, the great creator. For a long time I had been disappointed that Christian arts seemed to follow the lead of secular ones. I felt that it should be the other way around. Now I see that the creativity of Christian artists is hindered by the constrained thinking taught by the church, so it's not at all surprising if they are often less creative than people who don't feel that they must believe certain things or behave in certain ways.
For several months I had felt that I was "on the edge" of Christianity. I wanted to serve God and follow Jesus, but more creatively than the conventional Christian ways. I sometimes felt that I was a Christian, and other times that I was not, but it didn't matter much to me because I still believed that God was the creator and lord of the universe, and I knew I was devoted to him.
- - -
I was once asked to sign Christianity Today magazine's statement
of faith "without doubt or equivocation." I had to tell them I can
barely sign my own name without doubt or equivocation. - Philip Yancey, Reaching for the Invisible God
This
series of posts tells the story of how I went free of religion:
Part 3
On
the Edge: my own version of Christianity
Friday, July 16, 2004
Out of the Box: my charismatic, ecumenical experience (my story part 2)
Life is like playing a violin solo in public and learning the instrument as one goes on. – Samuel Butler
In the 1960s, when our youth group leaders moved to Tulsa, Oklahoma, and then to Houston, Texas, they began to experience what they considered to be a new level of relationship with God. They had come to believe that the Holy Spirit is personally present in all Christians, and that he continues to give all the gifts of power for ministry that he gave to people in the Bible. I was impressed by their reports of miraculous answers to prayer as well as by the consistency of their teachings with what I read in the Bible. They taught that the Holy Spirit living in Christians enabled direct communication with God, and I found that kind of direct interaction with God described throughout the Bible.
Our leaders introduced us to the teachings of well-known charismatic leaders, including those of Derek Prince on the baptism of the Holy Spirit and deliverance, and those of Malcolm Smith on the Blood Covenant. I found these sermon series fascinating and convincing. I asked my friends to lay hands on me and pray for me to be baptized in the Holy Spirit. I also began to read books by a variety of Christian authors. Some that had a powerful effect on me were:
Rosalind Rinker, Prayer - Conversing With God
David Wilkerson, The Cross and the Switchblade
Dietrich Bonhoeffer, The Cost of Discipleship
C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity, The Screwtape Letters, and others
Francis Schaeffer, The God Who Is There
I also enjoyed and was influenced by the fiction of Madeleine L'Engle, C.S. Lewis, and J.R.R Tolkien. I read The Lord of the Rings several times, as did many of my friends. I found it to be not only a masterpiece of fiction, but a rich parable of the ongoing spiritual battle between the forces of good and evil.
After reading Rinker's little book, I began to talk with God anywhere and everywhere, using my own conversational language rather than the formal, King James English which I had been taught to use in prayer. I began to listen for the Holy Spirit to speak to me in whatever way he wanted to use—whether scripture, teachings by other believers, or thoughts in my own mind, and I sought his guidance through circumstances and visions as well as though these forms of verbal communication.
I found that I could not only hear what God was saying, but could sometimes tell other people what I heard, and they generally recognized it as prophecy. I was very familiar with the Bible, and my favorite form of prophecy was to read a passage that expressed what I felt God was saying at the moment.
Christianity became something real and relevant to my life when it broke out of the routine church services I had grown up with. "Going to church" took on a new meaning, because often it meant going to the home of friends on Saturday night and sitting on the floor for hours of Bible study, singing and prayer. More significantly, I realized that my whole life belonged to God, and I wanted everything I did to be an act of honor and worship to him.
As a charismatic Christian, I discovered that worship could be a very
enjoyable activity. The folk and (later) rock styles of music were
much more appealing than the country style I had grown up with, and even
the old hymns took on a new excitement when sung in the enthusiasm of
the knowledge that God was present, enjoying the music with us and
taking pleasure in our praises. For the years we lived in New Jersey,
Jeanne and I hosted a number of music parties, with musician friends
sitting around our living room, playing one worship song after another
for several hours.
I took advantage of my freedom from denominational barriers by exploring a variety of worship styles. At different times in my life, I have been a member of eleven churches of these denominations:
Church of Christ
Presbyterian Church in the US
United Methodist Church
Non-denominational charismatic church
Vineyard Christian Fellowship
Evangelical Presbyterian Church
Fellowship of the Way of Christ - my "home" fellowship since 1971
I have attended these kinds of churches regularly for periods of several months:
Christian Church (Disciples of Christ)
Episcopal Church
Assemblies of God
I have also participated in Tres Dias weekends and have visited these kinds of churches:
Southern Baptist Church
American Baptist Church
Presbyterian Church in the USA
United Pentecostal Church
Evangelical Free Church
Church of the Nazarene
Christian Church
Lutheran Church (Missouri Synod)
Lutheran Church in America
Christian and Missionary Alliance Church
Congregational Church
United Church of Christ
Apostolic Church
Roman Catholic Church
Evangelical Orthodox Church
Charismatic Episcopal Church
Non-denominational churches
As a result of the charismatic teaching I received, my view of inspiration in general and the Bible in particular changed dramatically. I saw no reason to believe that the writings contained in the Bible were inspired to a greater degree than those of Christians today. As I read the Bible, I noticed that what it had to say about itself was that it was "useful" (2 Timothy 3:16), not that it was inerrant. I felt that the term "Word of God" should be used to refer to Jesus, rather than the Bible, because that is how the Bible most often uses that phrase. Although this seemed obvious to me when I read the Bible, this idea seemed totally foreign to most of the Christians I knew. I felt frustrated by this and wondered why God left so many people ignorant of this truth that had been so meaningful to me.
In the 1960s, when our youth group leaders moved to Tulsa, Oklahoma, and then to Houston, Texas, they began to experience what they considered to be a new level of relationship with God. They had come to believe that the Holy Spirit is personally present in all Christians, and that he continues to give all the gifts of power for ministry that he gave to people in the Bible. I was impressed by their reports of miraculous answers to prayer as well as by the consistency of their teachings with what I read in the Bible. They taught that the Holy Spirit living in Christians enabled direct communication with God, and I found that kind of direct interaction with God described throughout the Bible.
Our leaders introduced us to the teachings of well-known charismatic leaders, including those of Derek Prince on the baptism of the Holy Spirit and deliverance, and those of Malcolm Smith on the Blood Covenant. I found these sermon series fascinating and convincing. I asked my friends to lay hands on me and pray for me to be baptized in the Holy Spirit. I also began to read books by a variety of Christian authors. Some that had a powerful effect on me were:
Rosalind Rinker, Prayer - Conversing With God
David Wilkerson, The Cross and the Switchblade
Dietrich Bonhoeffer, The Cost of Discipleship
C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity, The Screwtape Letters, and others
Francis Schaeffer, The God Who Is There
I also enjoyed and was influenced by the fiction of Madeleine L'Engle, C.S. Lewis, and J.R.R Tolkien. I read The Lord of the Rings several times, as did many of my friends. I found it to be not only a masterpiece of fiction, but a rich parable of the ongoing spiritual battle between the forces of good and evil.
After reading Rinker's little book, I began to talk with God anywhere and everywhere, using my own conversational language rather than the formal, King James English which I had been taught to use in prayer. I began to listen for the Holy Spirit to speak to me in whatever way he wanted to use—whether scripture, teachings by other believers, or thoughts in my own mind, and I sought his guidance through circumstances and visions as well as though these forms of verbal communication.
I found that I could not only hear what God was saying, but could sometimes tell other people what I heard, and they generally recognized it as prophecy. I was very familiar with the Bible, and my favorite form of prophecy was to read a passage that expressed what I felt God was saying at the moment.
Christianity became something real and relevant to my life when it broke out of the routine church services I had grown up with. "Going to church" took on a new meaning, because often it meant going to the home of friends on Saturday night and sitting on the floor for hours of Bible study, singing and prayer. More significantly, I realized that my whole life belonged to God, and I wanted everything I did to be an act of honor and worship to him.
As a charismatic Christian, I discovered that worship could be a very
enjoyable activity. The folk and (later) rock styles of music were
much more appealing than the country style I had grown up with, and even
the old hymns took on a new excitement when sung in the enthusiasm of
the knowledge that God was present, enjoying the music with us and
taking pleasure in our praises. For the years we lived in New Jersey,
Jeanne and I hosted a number of music parties, with musician friends
sitting around our living room, playing one worship song after another
for several hours.I took advantage of my freedom from denominational barriers by exploring a variety of worship styles. At different times in my life, I have been a member of eleven churches of these denominations:
Church of Christ
Presbyterian Church in the US
United Methodist Church
Non-denominational charismatic church
Vineyard Christian Fellowship
Evangelical Presbyterian Church
Fellowship of the Way of Christ - my "home" fellowship since 1971
I have attended these kinds of churches regularly for periods of several months:
Christian Church (Disciples of Christ)
Episcopal Church
Assemblies of God
I have also participated in Tres Dias weekends and have visited these kinds of churches:
Southern Baptist Church
American Baptist Church
Presbyterian Church in the USA
United Pentecostal Church
Evangelical Free ChurchChurch of the Nazarene
Christian Church
Lutheran Church (Missouri Synod)
Lutheran Church in America
Christian and Missionary Alliance Church
Congregational Church
United Church of Christ
Apostolic Church
Roman Catholic Church
Evangelical Orthodox Church
Charismatic Episcopal Church
Non-denominational churches
As a result of the charismatic teaching I received, my view of inspiration in general and the Bible in particular changed dramatically. I saw no reason to believe that the writings contained in the Bible were inspired to a greater degree than those of Christians today. As I read the Bible, I noticed that what it had to say about itself was that it was "useful" (2 Timothy 3:16), not that it was inerrant. I felt that the term "Word of God" should be used to refer to Jesus, rather than the Bible, because that is how the Bible most often uses that phrase. Although this seemed obvious to me when I read the Bible, this idea seemed totally foreign to most of the Christians I knew. I felt frustrated by this and wondered why God left so many people ignorant of this truth that had been so meaningful to me.
This
series of posts tells the story of how I went free of religion:
Part 2
Out
of the Box: my charismatic, ecumenical
experience
Thursday, July 15, 2004
God in a Box: my fundamentalist Christian youth (my story part 1)
Men never do evil so completely and cheerfully as when they do it from religious conviction. - Pascal, Pensees #895
You can tell what's inside by what comes out. - Jesus (paraphrased)
This is the beginning of the story of my religious life and how I went free of religion.
I was raised with the view that the Bible was inspired by God, and thus totally reliable. My church taught that the Bible was the primary way we can learn about God and that we can become what God intends for us to be by following its teachings. Although we can't expect to become perfect in this life, we will be made perfect in the next life.
My family went to church every Sunday morning, Sunday evening and Wednesday night. By the time I entered my teens, I had heard hundreds of sermons and hundreds of Bible class lessons. I knew that God had created the world and had made two humans from whom we were all descended and who were the source of our sinful nature. I knew that he had chosen Abraham and his descendants to be his people in a special way. I knew that Jesus, a descendant of Abraham and the great Jewish King David, was born of the virgin Mary, and that he was God's only Son as well as a man. I knew that Jesus had been crucified to atone for the sins of all people, and that he had been resurrected from the dead and had ascended into heaven. I knew that he had established the church as the institution made up of all those who believed in him, so they would help each other until the end of the world, when he would come back to take them all to live in heaven with him forever. I knew that my church, although it began in the early 19th century, was the true church because it followed the Bible—unlike other churches, whose teachings were wrong in essential ways.
I accepted the church's doctrine because it was what my family and friends believed. Of course I questioned it in my own mind at times, but I had heard so many teachings that answered the objections of others that I assumed my own questions had answers—even if I never found out what they were. I was well aware that most people didn't share my church's beliefs, but my teachers explained that most people didn't know the truth, and that it was our responsibility to teach them the truth. My view of the world was so parochial that I couldn't conceive of what it might be like to be a Catholic, a Muslim, a Buddhist, or an atheist, except to think how sad it would be to be so benighted.
Now I think how sad it was that I was so indoctrinated. So much of my life was wasted listening to repetitive, boring, false teaching, and I failed to pursue my interests because I considered them less important than seeking God's will for me.
When I started high school, my family started attending a congregation which was less conservative than most in my denomination. The leaders tried to focus on teaching the basics of Christianity rather than emphasizing the faults of other denominations. There, the young couple who taught the high school Bible class and led the youth group introduced me to some teachings of the Bible which were radically new to me. From them, I learned that God related to people personally, not merely as members of the church. This was the beginning of my exposure to a broader perspective on Christianity.
You can tell what's inside by what comes out. - Jesus (paraphrased)
This is the beginning of the story of my religious life and how I went free of religion.
I was raised with the view that the Bible was inspired by God, and thus totally reliable. My church taught that the Bible was the primary way we can learn about God and that we can become what God intends for us to be by following its teachings. Although we can't expect to become perfect in this life, we will be made perfect in the next life.
My family went to church every Sunday morning, Sunday evening and Wednesday night. By the time I entered my teens, I had heard hundreds of sermons and hundreds of Bible class lessons. I knew that God had created the world and had made two humans from whom we were all descended and who were the source of our sinful nature. I knew that he had chosen Abraham and his descendants to be his people in a special way. I knew that Jesus, a descendant of Abraham and the great Jewish King David, was born of the virgin Mary, and that he was God's only Son as well as a man. I knew that Jesus had been crucified to atone for the sins of all people, and that he had been resurrected from the dead and had ascended into heaven. I knew that he had established the church as the institution made up of all those who believed in him, so they would help each other until the end of the world, when he would come back to take them all to live in heaven with him forever. I knew that my church, although it began in the early 19th century, was the true church because it followed the Bible—unlike other churches, whose teachings were wrong in essential ways.
I accepted the church's doctrine because it was what my family and friends believed. Of course I questioned it in my own mind at times, but I had heard so many teachings that answered the objections of others that I assumed my own questions had answers—even if I never found out what they were. I was well aware that most people didn't share my church's beliefs, but my teachers explained that most people didn't know the truth, and that it was our responsibility to teach them the truth. My view of the world was so parochial that I couldn't conceive of what it might be like to be a Catholic, a Muslim, a Buddhist, or an atheist, except to think how sad it would be to be so benighted.
Now I think how sad it was that I was so indoctrinated. So much of my life was wasted listening to repetitive, boring, false teaching, and I failed to pursue my interests because I considered them less important than seeking God's will for me.
When I started high school, my family started attending a congregation which was less conservative than most in my denomination. The leaders tried to focus on teaching the basics of Christianity rather than emphasizing the faults of other denominations. There, the young couple who taught the high school Bible class and led the youth group introduced me to some teachings of the Bible which were radically new to me. From them, I learned that God related to people personally, not merely as members of the church. This was the beginning of my exposure to a broader perspective on Christianity.
This series of posts
tells the story of how I went free of religion:
Part 1
God
in a Box: my fundamentalist Christian
youth
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