I regularly correspond with a handful of Evangelical pastors, missionaries, and evangelists who are having doubts about their faith. While some of them have deconverted — albeit secretly — others are caught in no-man’s land — the space between belief and unbelief. As any of these doubters will tell you, I make no effort to convert them to atheism. I am far more concerned with helping them work through their doubts, fears, and questions. Most of all, I want to provide them a safe place to honestly and openly say what’s on their minds. They know that I once was where they are now. They also know that whatever they tell me will be kept in the strictest of confidence.
Earlier today, a man who, up until recently, spent most of his adult life holding revival meetings in Independent Fundamentalist Baptist churches, sent me a text about God and his love for us. I asked him if I could share his text with you, and he said yes.
I Am God and I Love You So Much
I am God. God is love. I love you so much.
I love you so much that I set you up to fail.
I love you so much that I taught a snake how to talk, tempt and deceive.
I love you so much that I created most of you knowing you’d reject me.
I love you so much that I made infinite torture the price of your finite rejection.
I love you so much that I’ll give all who reject me a special body that will never die and never stop feeling ultimate pain.
I love you so much that I’ve made sexuality one of your most intense desires but one of your most forbidden actions.
I love you so much that I’ll let some of you be rich, powerful and comfortable while most will be poor, miserable and weak.
I love you so much that I’ll make my forgiveness and salvation one of the most obscure, secluded, exclusive, elusive, difficult, ancient, senseless, illogical and bizarre, argued, debated, opinionated, sadistic, divisive, repulsive, reject-able, laughable, unverifiable, irrational, emotional, and psychological things ever conceived.
I love you so much that I’ll hurt you if you doubt me.
I love you so much that I’ll hurt you if you trust me.
I love you so much that I’ll hurt you if you stray from me.
I love you so much that I’ll hurt you if you are closer to me than to anyone.
I love you so much that I’ll hurt you if you don’t serve me.
I love you so much that I’ll hurt you if you serve me faithfully.
I love you so much that I’ll make your suffering for ignoring me very real in this life.
I love you so much that I’ll make your rewards for walking with me only real in the next life.
I love you so much that I’ll kill your loved ones, destroy your life, ravage your body and make your best friends think it’s your fault, just to teach the devil a lesson.
I love you so much that I’ll make everything you need to know about me and my love available to you in an ancient, translated, revised, edited, copied, argued, debated, contradictory, violent, terrifying, depressing, ambiguous, bizarre, embarrassing book written by dozens of disagreeing men, spanning thousands of years.
Heaven and hell are big in Evangelical Christianity. One might say larger than life even. As a believer I was told over and over again that I did not have to fear hell. Jesus had saved us all. He had saved me and I was bought and paid for forever. Despite officially being part of a more Arminian background, predestination did figure in our beliefs as well. From our side (humans) we had free will and a choice, but from God’s side it was still predestination. I tried to understand this conundrum but failed to. Since I knew quite a few people in high school who were Calvinists, I figured we actually were quite Arminian, despite these caveats. The Calvinists I knew were not able to decide for themselves: they had to be elected by God and even then they were put through serious tests of faith to determine their worthiness and the truth of their claim.
As I was quite convinced I would go to heaven, I did not fear hell for myself. For other people, however, I did. What I did fear for myself was Judgement Day. It scared the living daylights out of me. The idea of standing before God’s throne and have every sin you’ve ever committed read out, or shown, before you; it was an unbearable thought. In our specific explanation of the Bible, there would be two moments of judgement: Christ’s judgement and God’s judgement. After the Rapture, we Christians would be judged by Christ. This was not to determine if we’d go to heaven or not, however, it was about the number of cities we would reign, based on The Parable of the Ten Minas. We’d be judged for our fruits: for the outcome of our Christian lives. Only after the End Times and perhaps even after the Thousand years of Christ’s reign would the ultimate Final Judgement take place: God’s judgement. This was the moment where it would be determined who went to heaven or to hell. Since we would already be living with Jesus for a long time by then, it would not be clear what the outcome would be for us. We would still have to be judged though, just like everybody else, which was only fair.
For true Christians these two moments were not meant to hurt or humiliate us, instead they were meant to increase our love for Christ even more. If we were faced with all our sins, including the long-forgotten ones, we would understand even better and deeper the love and work of Christ for us. Despite being told this positive spin on the judgement, seeing it as an evaluation rather than as a trial, I couldn’t shake my fear of it. I did not want to be confronted with all my failings and sins. I didn’t care if the one who defended me would also be the one judging me, i.e. Jesus. It was scary and something I feared immensely. I looked forward to being in heaven and living with Christ but this moment would inevitably come as well. What would I see? What sins would be shown? Would other people get to see all my sins too? Would they hate me or mock me for it? The answer to that last one would be no, since heaven is all about happiness and no-one would be bullied there.
Still, the Bible wasn’t all that clear on the specifics so my imagination had room to run wild. Judgement Day featured in my fears both for others and myself. Whatever attempts were made to sugarcoat the whole thing, in the end it was all about sin and heaven and hell. It was about the failure of the human race, about Adam’s fall and, in particular, about all my wrong-doings. I couldn’t lighten up about it. Looking back that makes perfect sense. If you take your religion very seriously, you won’t be able to lighten up about it. If sin features so heavily in your beliefs, judgement over sin will too.
Sometimes I was a little angry at God/Jesus over this. We were saved for ever and ever, but we would still be judged over our past mistakes. Did that mean that we even were fully forgiven? Shouldn’t forgiveness mean that you don’t mention it again? That the burden is completely lifted? Of course, it didn’t mean that and I was wrong to ask. We were not going to hell and we should be (and would have to be) eternally grateful for it. The short, small pain of going through a divine judgement should not have to faze us. However, it did faze me enormously and didn’t help my trust in God either. My questions and longing to understand were met time and time again with even more questions and non-answers. Paradoxes and doublethink are a huge part of Evangelical Christianity and I did not fare well with them. When claims about the One Actual Truth are made, they do not serve any clear purpose and shouldn’t play a role. If the truth is clear and self-evident, it should be just that.
What kind of teachings did you learn about the Judgement? Were there two or one of them and did they intersect with apocalyptic teachings as well?
Thanks for reading and thanks to Bruce for posting this post!
From about age 10 to 17, my family attended Bible Baptist Church. This was the first Fundamentalist, King James-only Baptist church we attended. Up until then, the church we attended had northern roots, so things were quiet, except for the occasional “Amen.” The men in this church were people who shouted “Amen,” “Right on,” and “Preach it.” One man was very loud in his yelling — his name was Jeff.
Jeff was the ultimate manly man among a church full of manly men. Most of the men had military service under their belts and were hunters/fishers. Jeff didn’t have military service, but he was a hunter/fisher and a fire fighter. Jeff played hockey and basketball. There was no option for Jeff except complete victory and domination. There was only one man more macho than Jeff, but he’s not part of this story.
So, Jeff was actually a pretty good guy, on the outside. He was generous and always willing to lend a hand on his days off. When we had summer Bible camps, Jeff would always be there as a counselor/chaperone. I admired Jeff, but my dad couldn’t stand him. Dad wasn’t a competitive person and he found Jeff to be slightly annoying and pretentious. But Jeff was a brother in Christ, so Dad treated him accordingly.
Jeff took over Sunday School for a while. It was just 4 of us teenage boys at the time. He got very serious and spoke to us bluntly about living for Jesus and the perils of adultery and fornication. I clearly remember him talking about how the girls who gave sex away freely were the last ones married. Real men wanted someone who was a virgin and would only want one partner for the rest of their life. This was a shock, because Jeff said the word “sex.” But, I believed what he said, since Jeff was a stud and he had a dutiful wife, big house and a lot of money. Comparing Jeff to my dad (which, I’m ashamed to say, I did), there was no doubt who the real winner was. Looking back, I realize my dad could have torn Jeff in half without breaking a sweat and could have made way more money; but Dad was concerned about living for Jesus at any cost.
So, these words of Jeff’s rang in my head for years, until I was about 19. I was taking my EMT class and I heard about a firefighter and a paramedic having an affair. Imagine my great surprise when I found out it was Jeff. The very same Jeff who explained that a real man only needed one woman, and one who was a virgin at that. I wasn’t quite devastated, but I was puzzled. Why? How?
Now I’m a little wiser and a lot older. I understand how these things work. I do shift work and spend 12 hours at a time with my shift. I see how a relationship could develop. I also know that taking a professional relationship to a personal one is something that can happen easily and must be guarded against. It takes two to have a relationship, so the blame lies equally on Jeff and the other lady. I don’t know what was going on at their house, although I did hear a few things that made it seem as if everything wasn’t tranquil. In the end, though, Jeff screwed around on his wife, breaking a vow and commitment to be faithful. Period.
So, the moral of this story is……All men and women are human and anyone can fall. Even the man who said “sex” in a Sunday School class.
(Note: Dude is still a Christian, but he is distancing himself from the institutional church.) Dude has just started a blog. Please check it out and leave a comment if you are so inclined.
I didn’t grow up in church. In fact, for my childhood and most of my adult life I never crossed the threshold of any house of worship. I would be in my late 30s before Christianity came into my life. Often the peculiarities of “church life” confused and frustrated me. I didn’t know the song lyrics, how to navigate through a Bible or understand all the rituals and regalia of Christian culture. However overwhelmed I was by day-to-day life as a man in the pew, nothing prepared me for taking the step from the pew to behind the pulpit. Once I accepted the mantle of ministry and leadership, a whole new underbelly of church revealed itself to me, and reviled me at the same time.
I have many stories, many experiences, many heartaches and heart breaks and an ample supply of disillusionment and discontent with the status quo of what passes as church today. But I must start somewhere. I’ll begin with my first true position in church leadership.
As a fairly novice Christian I became an ordained deacon. I was a wide-eyed, bushy-tailed, newly minted zealous Christian crusader looking to serve and follow my Lord and Savior any way I could. I already had time behind me as a Sunday School teacher for children and youth and experience with our Men’s Ministry. I felt privileged and honored when asked to accept the position of deacon in my church. I had no idea that the true definition of deacon meant “Pastor’s Yes-Man” or “Pastor’s Whipping Boy” or “Pastor’s Lackey” or some other derivative thereof. I’m sure you get the idea.
This particular incident occurred after I’d been in my position for quite a few months. All of my fellow deacons were older than me, many of them in their 50s and 60s with me in my mid-30s. All of them had spent most of their lives in church, whereas I was still learning the ropes. Our church had been experiencing some strife and unrest. Our pastor had called a special Monday night meeting of all the deacons. We all wondered what it would be about — the most common guess or fear was he might be resigning.
A nasty cold had me in it’s merciless grasp as I headed out on a dark, chilly, damp evening. I wanted to be home in bed under a warm blanket instead of braving the elements for a mysterious meeting with the pastor. As we all gathered around a table, wondering about the purpose of our meeting, the pastor explained why he had called the meeting.
A particular church member and her family had become a thorn in his side. He named them, defamed their character, and accused them of being behind the problems the church was facing. I expected one of my more experienced fellow deacons to reprimand him for his negative rant. Instead, they joined in. They talked about all the problems the person and their family had caused in church and in other churches. Viciously and methodically the woman who played the organ every Sunday morning, the woman who was mother of a foreign missionary, the woman who was the wife of a teacher and active member of the men’s ministry was voraciously vilified.
I felt my heart pounding and my head thudding and could not bring myself to say anything. I wanted to shout at them to stop. I loved this woman and her family. She had been one of the first people in the church to befriend me and my family. And now because she dared to question some of the leadership decisions of the pastor she had become persona non grata.
I walked away with regret that night. I regretted witnessing such behavior from men I had grown to respect and admire. I regretted not opening my mouth and saying something. I felt sicker as I drove home. A few days later I told one of my friends and fellow deacons, “I thought that meeting was wrong. I wanted to say something, but all of you are older and have more experience than me.” He said, “You should have spoken up. We respect you and your opinion.”
I cannot turn the clock back and interject my feelings. Not long after, the woman and her family left the church. She was the first of several to do so. Eventually, I had to walk away from that particular church as well as I saw continued acts of spiritual abuse occurring — especially from the pastor.
I learned a hard lesson. Despite the smiles from the pulpit, or the handshakes at the sanctuary door, or the laughter around a fellowship meal, it’s an extremely different story behind closed doors at church. It was my first such experience, but would be far from my last.
As a good evangelical, I never believed in purgatory; that is until this year when I decided that I was already living there. I don’t mean in a religious sense, but rather in the sense that I am in neither one place nor the other.
For reasons I will come to, I have all but lost my faith. But, since I have a lovely wife and good friends who are Christians, I will never really be able to walk away.
I have read a few blogs written by former Christians. Nearly all of them are written by American ex-Christians. I am from the UK, and I believe that there are a number of cultural differences between churches in the UK and America. There are many flavours of Christianity, so I can’t really generalise, but what I do know is that my experience differs from that of many of people who have lost their faith. In America, it is more culturally acceptable to be an evangelical Christian — especially in the Bible belt where being a good citizen requires regular church attendance and voting Republican. My experiences in the UK, however, have been different. We don’t have a religious right, and evangelical Christians are quite rare. I didn’t knowingly meet an evangelical (Reformed) Christian until I was nineteen! In the UK, evangelicals stand out from the crowd and are a bit weird. When I first accepted the doctrine of eternal punishment in hell I was nineteen. I remember thinking, at the time, I have become a religious extremist. No one at my high school, not even the school chaplain, believed in hell!
I became an evangelical at university, having been a liberal Anglican throughout my teens. That was ten years ago. It was meeting Christians my own age who were practicing what they preached that made me take notice. Many people lose their faith and look back and criticize, very rightly, the churches they were part of. But I can honestly say that my experiences with Christians have only been positive. I love the churches I have been part of. They are full of loving, kind, generous, and self-sacrificing people. Of course, they have faults, but doesn’t everyone? I think that the best apologetic for Christianity is the church. ‘If you want your friends to know Jesus, get them to come to a church BBQ and they will see from the way Christians live and act towards each other that they have something special!’ I haven’t become disillusioned with the church — I still love the church. So what went wrong?
When I started attending an evangelical church — the church was Anglican but agreed wholeheartedly with the Westminster confession — at university I was amazed by how seriously they took the Bible. I liked the fact that they taught each passage in context, teaching congregants what the Biblical text meant for first century readers before explaining how it was applicable for us today. I liked that they used reason to understand what the Bible meant. All their beliefs were backed up by God’s word. They didn’t take a rigid, literal view, allowing texts such as Genesis or apocalyptic texts to speak, in context, for themselves. This church did not approve of visions and promptings from God. I had attended other churches in my teens where they believed God was supposed to speak to us while we closed our eyes. This church taught me that God speaks clearly to us through the Bible.
It was this supposedly solid biblical foundation that led to my undoing. My respect for the Bible led me to read it very closely and carefully. As I continued to read, I began questioning reformed interpretations of Paul’s writings. For those interested, look up James Dunn or N.T. Wright and the New Perspective on Paul. My questions didn’t make me doubt God or the Bible — only certain reformed interpretations.
This year I began to look closely at textual contradictions and passages that didn’t make sense. How did Judas die? How do you explain that Matthew seemed to think that Jesus would come back soon after AD 70? How do you explain that key doctrines developed over time?
I also began to hate — and I mean really hate — the idea of hell. I can accept that I am not perfect and that a perfect God would be right to punish evil. But, to punish someone for ever and ever and ever in a special resurrected body that has been given to them for that very purpose is sick! If the Bible clearly taught this from beginning to end I might accept it even if I didn’t like it. But, from my studies of the Bible, I can say for certain that hell is not taught in the Pentateuch. The idea of hell evolved over time and is only found in the books written after the Jewish exile. God doesn’t speak clearly in the Bible. It is a wonderful mix of different and contradictory voices — voices of men, not God.
Upon hearing of my doubts, Evangelicals tell me I just need to believe. Have faith. It doesn’t matter about the details. But this is not what they taught me! I was taught to do detailed exegesis, working out what the text means. That is the evangelical way, is it not? I have done the exegesis and I now agree with scholars like Bart Ehrman, Geza Vermes and Christine Hayes when say the text is not historically reliable. Evangelical hypocrisy is revealed when people closely study the bible and conclude the bible has contradictions. Such people are told: you are being too intellectual! You are sitting in judgement over God’s word. Isn’t that what Evangelical pastors do every Sunday? Every time you decide what you think the text is saying you are sitting in judgement of it!
So where does this leave me? I both love and hate Christianity and the Bible. I love Christians and I love the Bible as a rich literary text that gives us an insight into the development of the thoughts that have shaped western civilisation. But, at the same time I hate Christianity and the Bible. I hate the fact that because I disagree with the notion that the Bible is true that people will tell me that I am rebelling against God. I hate that people believe that hell is real and dedicate their lives to warning people about this. I hate that because of what the New Testament says my close friends and family will from now on regard me as being under the power of Satan. I hate that my wife will be devastated that I am ‘damned’ and disappointed that I won’t be able to be the spiritual head of our home. It is for these reasons I haven’t completely come out. The weird thing is that in the UK the vast majority of people think Christianity is mumbo jumbo. I just happen to be very close to people who make up the small minority that think the Bible is true. My change of heart will deeply affect my relationships with those I am closest to.
And I hate that despite all the evidence I will always have a nagging doubt that I might be wrong. And that on the last day I will have some explaining to do. For these reasons I think the rest of my life will be pretty miserable. Thanks Jesus.
Christians play the theory of intelligent design like a philosophical checkmate. It’s chronic actually. Like chest-thumping silverbacks theistic ideologues in my corner of the cosmos swear that “design science” steals the origins debate.
I’ve been a committed, evangelical believer for over forty years. (I’m no outsider just hurling rhetorical stones.) The last ten years I’ve been a full-time pastor. And in that time I’ve found that us fundamentalist types worship our theological certainties nearly as much as we do our God.
And when we’re not worshiping them we’re wielding them like some kind of sacred bludgeon — but I digress.
I’ve seen it! (And done it.)
Christian Pep Rallies
On any given Sunday evangelical leaders will trot out their design science experts to cacophonous “Amen!” choruses. I’ve witnessed the committed masses nearly swoon over Ben Stein’s Expelled. Bring in apologist hero de jour, Michael Behe, and you’ll pack the place.
It’s preaching to the choir at best.
Believers already buy into the arguments; they’re sold. Further, in my experience these events have little to do with education or with understanding the relevant arguments.
They’re about confirmation. They’re about reinforcing what the conservative, evangelical faithful already believe.
They’re Christian pep rallies more than they are honest, scientific inquiries. I’m not mocking. I sympathize with the creationist mindset that undergirds the fundamentalist’s faith.
In fact, I know it very well.
Everywhere I Looked
As an evangelical believer I saw God — everywhere. (My version of God, of course.) Every time I felt small under a starry sky I just “knew” God was there. Every time I trembled at the majesty of a lightning flash; every time I stood silenced by a roaring ocean; every time I cradled an infant or marveled at a sunset—everywhere I looked — I saw convincing evidence for God…for my God.
I suspect I’m not alone.
Even the garden-variety Christian snobbishly contends that her 21st century, fundamentalist, evangelical, contemporary-pop, western, Judeo-Christian version of the creator is the only game in town.
Even more, she’s certain that just about everything she sees proves it. It’s a lesson in confirmation bias for sure. (But that’s a post for another day.)
Here’s the problem: every religion that boasts a creation story believes the same thing! Every sycophant that stumps for a creator — any creator — is certain the existence of the universe proves her highly specialized version of God.
Everyone observes the same universe, but…
Christians think, “Jesus did it!”
Jews believe, “Jehovah did it!”
Muslims insist, “It was Allah!”
And on, and on, and on…
Which Creator?
Same universe, same evidence — opposing creators. Every believer interprets the evidence through the tinged-with-bias lens of their peculiar religion. As such, we see what we want to see. We see what we expect to see.
We see our rendition of a creator.
And why not? I mean, what gives Christian fundies the keys to the kingdom? If Christians can claim the cosmos as proof — why can’t the competition? In the end, however, every religion has as much proof that their specific god(s) created everything as do aliens from another galaxy.
None.
The universe bears no particular authorial stamp. But that doesn’t stop the faithful. They’ll argue their pet theory as if the Almighty himself signed the cosmos like some celestial da Vinci signing the Mona Lisa.
For many of the faithful, this is a new thought. (And it’s a risky thought.) If the seeming design of the cosmos isn’t proof of any specific deity the entire Intelligent Design argument is moot…at least as it relates to validating any specific god(s).
The Missing Link
So, what’s the naughty little secret? What’s intelligent design’s missing link? It’s simply this: Whatever intelligent design may prove — it does not prove enough.
Believers image that it does — but it doesn’t.
It’s smoke and mirrors for sure. Maybe those in the know we’re hoping nobody would notice that their precious intelligent design argument is a few bricks shy of a full load.
Some Christians are so certain that the intricacy of the universe validates their version of God that even suggesting otherwise is like denying gravity.
But here’s the thing…even if it’s true, even if we concede that the existence of the universe sufficiently validates the notion of intelligent design, what does it prove? (It could be used to prove a lot, I suppose.) What it does not prove, however, is that the God of Christianity is the designer.
To get from proving intelligent design to proving the specific identity of the designer(s) the believer must supply several missing links. Proving intelligent design just does not prove evangelicalism’s (or any other isms for that matter) version of God.
When I first admitted this it was a game-changer.
I had to confess that many of the proofs I used to validate my faith were no proof at all. And as far as specific religions go… the design argument equally validates every one of them that claims a creator.
It devastated me when I realized that I could no longer count on the universe to validate my faith. With all of its intricacy, beauty and wonder, I had to admit that I could not consistently and honestly claim the cosmos as proof of my God.
I realized that I had one set of rules with which I judged my faith and a different, stricter set with which I judged all others. How could I consistently claim the cosmos as my God’s handiwork when I had no more evidence of the fact than anyone else?
I couldn’t.
These days, I’m learning to write my “beliefs” in pencil rather than etching them in stone. Have your own experience or opinion? — please, share it. Give someone else the opportunity to think a new thought!
Guest post by Neil. You can read Neil’s writing at Rejecting Jesus.
I didn’t reject my faith so that I could wallow in sin (though I do like a good wallow now and then). I didn’t turn away from Christianity as an act of rebellion against God, nor did I give it up so I could set myself up as Lord of my own life (though why that would be a bad thing, I’m not sure).
Christians like to tell me that these are the reasons I became apostate, but of course they’re not. Rather, I’d become aware that there’s no such thing as ‘sin’. Sin is a peculiarly religious invention with no traction in the real world; there’s only human behavior. I had reached a point where I understood there was no God, certainly not the Christian version and it follows you can’t rebel against something that doesn’t exist, nor, indeed, can you set yourself up as it.
Instead, I’d taken a long hard look at the claims of Christianity and in particular what the Bible had to say about Jesus. I asked myself:
whether human beings can return from the dead (no), can be born of virgins (no), can walk on water (no).
whether Jesus’ claims – that he would be back within his disciples’ lifetime to establish the Kingdom of God on Earth; that he would appear to them in the sky with the heavenly host; that he would bring about God’s judgement, again during his own generation – actually happened. (Evidently they didn’t.)
whether his promises were true – that whatever believers ask of God will happen; that his followers would do even greater miracles than Jesus himself; that they would be as one. (Another resounding ‘no’.)
whether I as a Christian, and whether any other believers anywhere, actually did as Jesus commanded. Did we sell all we had to give to the poor? Love our enemies? Turn the other cheek? Go the extra mile? Give to all who asked? Heal the sick? Forgive repeatedly?
Some might have done so, but by and large, no, we didn’t. We couldn’t even manage not to judge in case we were judged in return. No-one I knew or heard preach or even read about did any of the things Jesus commanded.
I could only conclude that this was because a) Jesus’ expectations were far too demanding and b) Christians don’t believe in him anyway. They may think they do – they like what he appears to say about marriage when they’re up for a little gay-bashing – but really they’re only interested in Paul’s ‘Christ’. Christ, the mythologized version of Jesus, gives them a buzz and – extra bonus – doesn’t expect too much of them. They can even carry on with the gay-bashing if they want. But Jesus? Him they don’t want to know – he’s too demanding, too extreme, too dead.
Every time, then, Jesus came up lacking: his promises were hollow, his prophecies unfulfilled, his morality impossible and his miracles and resurrection more than unlikely. Reason, experience and evidence told me that Jesus as we have him in the gospels is nothing more than the creation of a credulous age; his alter-ego, ‘the Christ’, even more so. Once I realized this – once I had this revelation, my very own deconversion experience – I was free. Free to live my life, to think for myself and be who I am. I recommend it to you; let the self-evident truth that faith is nothing more than self-delusion set you free too.
I know there’s no way you would remember me. I’m just some random woman at one of the churches in Virginia that held a deliverance ministry weekend taught by you and the members of your church many years ago. I’m the one who our overbearing pastor’s wife forced to make all those fancy half round flags for your church as a gift from our church. I’m still several hundred dollars out-of-pocket for the materials, and I’m still annoyed at that even if you had nothing to do with it.
You and your church pushed the deliverance ministry that your church did, telling tales of people set free from all sorts of weird demonic infestations. Your goal was to get people to sign up to come to your church — Vineyard, in Wilmington, North Carolina.
During that weekend I had the chance to speak to you several times. I found that I liked you. Maybe it was the fact that you walked away from a high dollar career to preach, I don’t know. You are personable.
But, I know you don’t have a clue about the damage you and your fellow church members do. I suspect, seeing that the name of your church and the deliverance ministry has been changed more than once, that you have some small inkling that others think it sucks. Did you guys get sued by those you victimized while pretending they are demon-addled and need an exorcism? Something obviously happened.
For my husband and I, the damage was limited. We just lost some time, hotel and gas money, and spending time with our family for Thanksgiving. I feel pretty certain that your deliverance ministry likely did lots of damage, wreaked havoc, and destroyed marriages and few families. Let me explain why I think your deliverance ministry — that you now call a ‘prayer ministry’ at your renamed church, Global River Church — is a bad thing.
You preyed on my husband who was going through a long, horrible depression. Thanks to competent doctors, medical tests and therapy, we know his entire problem was that he had cancerous tumors on his parathyroid glands. He wasn’t under spiritual oppression, nor did he lack faith. He wasn’t filled with demons and in need of deliverance ministry. He was sick. With cancer that would have killed him if we hadn’t tossed aside the compete and utter bullshit that the church was saying and sought legitimate medical treatment.
Jim told me a few days before Thanksgiving in November of 2005 that he had scheduled a weekend deliverance that weekend, that you had arranged for a team of deliverance-ministry trained staff to remove our evil spirits and cleanse us. This meant that we had to abandon our children to others for the holiday, make the long drive from Northern Virginia to Wilmington North Carolina, and stay at a local hotel for several nights while the deliverance was going on.
I remember how angry I was, because even while at that time I was still a hard-core believer, I didn’t believe in what you guys did or your claims of demonic infestation. I was angry at the ruined holiday, angry I could not be with my kids, and angry that you insisted that I take part in the deliverance ministry too. Jim was told that you wouldn’t help one spouse without de-demonizing the other. I wanted no part of it.
One of my clearest memories of that weekend was waking up at 3 am on the Saturday morning before the first sessions. I felt fearful and angry, and l was suffering from extreme pain in my right arm due to an injury I was waiting to have surgery on. I sat in that ocean front hotel room, contemplating the Atlantic ocean in the moonlight while listening to praise music on my iPod, waiting for opioid pain medication to kick in. I wondered what the day would bring.
What the day brought was us being met at your church by the deliverance team. Jim and I were separated, and the sessions started. I wasn’t in Jim’s session so I can only imagine what happened. For mine, I was confronted quite starkly over things the two ‘counselors’ had received from God during their prayer time that week. The information that the women claimed to have heard from the Lord was wrong on so many things. They told me I was having an affair with someone named ‘Walt’, which made me laugh because, at the time, the only Walt’s I had heard of were Walt Whitman and Jim Walter Homes — a dead man and a corporation. No, I was not and have never had an affair.
I was also told that my husband was having an affair — again not true. I don’t know much, but I know that about him. He’s not the type, and he didn’t have enough downtime with his commute into DC on public transportation to have an affair.
Imagine how such false revelations might have affected a married couple having problems? We both were told this and neither of us believed it about the other person. If someone in a shaky relationship was told an outrageous lie like that, it would have blown apart their marriage. Somehow, I don’t think any of this is something Jesus would approve of.
The personal details and ‘problems’ listed on both of our prayer sheets were beyond wrong, right down to the smallest details. For example, Jim was told he loves ‘Star Wars’ and fishing, both of which he hates. I was also told Jim had a ‘demon of rage’ in him that would physically kill me if they didn’t exorcise it from him.
The women attempting to ‘deliver’ me gave up after about two and a half hours, realizing that I was highly skeptical, thought their words of knowledge were ridiculous, and I was not cooperating like they wanted. I was told by the staff to go back to the hotel and wait for a phone call to come back and pick up my husband. He was held and brainwashed a total of nine hours. Ten years later, he still hasn’t told me what happened during his session. I do know that when I picked him up he clung to me and would not let go for many days (either holding my hand or hugging me).
We went home; it was anti-climatic by that point. We spoke very little about what had happened and things continued as normal until the point Jim was diagnosed with parathyroid cancer and had the first of several surgeries.
I get it. You somehow think you are ‘helping’ people by doing this type of prayer and deliverance ministry. But you’re not. You are, at best, confusing people, and at worst blowing up homes and families and/or causing people with serious medical conditions to die because they believe their conditions are demonic. You take advantage of desperate people.
A couple of days ago, several of us were sitting around at work discussing religion. It was 4 am and all of our work was completed. In the group were Eric – an atheist , Nazzy – a nominal Christian (Church of the Nazarene) Chris – a Catholic of some sort, Ren – Filipino Catholic, and me – a deist.
We are all pretty close, so no subject is sacred. Any fault or mistake is picked apart and put on display for the entire world to see. Religious discussions aren’t given special treatment, so they can get pretty brutal. Usually they end up with Eric and me being told we are going to hell. No big threat for either of us.
That night, Chris was experiencing his first religious discussion. He is new, so none of us had any idea about his beliefs. Nazzy, the aforementioned nominal Christian, and Eric were trading jabs back and forth about souls, or the lack thereof, and how to tell if there is a god. Since I believe there is a god, just not the Christian one, I was sitting this discussion out. All of a sudden, Chris says, “I can prove there is a god! Why is water blue?” It got very quiet, since this was a new line of reasoning. Eric gave a scientific answer. Chris asked why then was water clear when you scooped up a handful. Again, much interest and another scientific answer. Finally, Nazzy asked what these questions had to do with why there is a god. Chris said he didn’t know, he just wanted to know if we knew why water was blue. WHAT?? Much derision and laughing was heaped on Nazzy and Chris.
A few minutes later, during a discussion where he was trying to prove that Jesus was the son of God, Chris said, “Did you know there are some who thought Mary Magdalene had a tryst?” Again, I was curious. This time, I asked Chris to explain, since I was genuinely curious. I told him I wasn’t being an ass, I truly wanted to know. Chris then told me that some people think Mary Magdalene had sex before she married Joseph and the immaculate conception story is a lie. I asked him where he heard this. He told me his dad was a Catholic preacher (not sure what type of preacher). I told him he needed to listen better. Mother Mary is a different person from Mary Magdalene.
About this time, Nazzy was telling Chris to shut up unless he knew what he was talking about. Then the conversation turned to the Holy Ghost. Eric and I both reiterated that there is no such thing as the Holy Ghost, Ren speaks up and says there is. He knows there is a Holy Ghost because there are real ghosts. Nazzy tells him to shut up. Ren keeps on talking, so Eric asks him how he knows ghosts are real. Ren says, “because I saw it on TV, Ghost Hunters.”
I looked at Nazzy and said, “These guys are on your side, buddy.”
I guess the moral of the story is not to debate people unless you have facts. Know what you are talking about and don’t assume everything on TV is real.
Debunking religion has been a theme in many of my Facebook posts. My opinion is best summed up by the expression “religion poisons everything” (Christopher Hitchens). I’m not just talking Christianity…but ALL RELIGIONS that are based on unprovable, improbable, mythological, invisible, supernatural, omniscient beings and their cryptically written laws on how to behave and how to worship. Everyone who has settled on one of the monotheistic religions (Judaism, Christianity, Muslim) or on one of their off shoots (Mormonism, Jehovah’s Witnesses, Christian Science) are all “atheists” to every other god except their own. The difference between them and people like me is I go one god further. They are atheistic against Ba’al, Zeus, Thor, Horace, and every other god that has come before. Why? It isn’t for lack of proof (even though there isn’t any). It is blind faith in a book, the Christian Bible. There is little proof that the things in that book happened. Science looks for clues for the worldwide flood, the Exodus, creation and other stories in the Bible, but they are nowhere to be found. The “evidence” that has been presented to the scientific community has been disproven or debunked. All the Ron Wyatt discoveries, the Ray Comfort theories, the “Ark has been found” stories, and Ken Ham “scientific proof” for 6 day creation a 6000 year old universe have been thoroughly debunked. The evidence does not support these accounts.
I don’t understand how a majority of people in the United States and others around the world still believe that Creation, Adam and Eve, the fall of man from a mythical garden (complete with talking snake), Noah and the Ark, Moses and the Exodus, the 10 Commandments, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Daniel, Sampson, Jonah and the whale, etc. are all stories that should be taken literally, from a book with a very sketchy history on how and why it was put together, and written by ignorant authors whose authenticity is in serious question. As a result of people taking the Bible literally, we have had wars, witch-hunts, mass killings, and terrible discrimination of all kinds. Not only that, but we have brain-dead adults with little knowledge about science, home-schooling another generation of young people in a “creation-based” curriculum laughably called “creation science.” We have kids in Sunday School classes being told that science is wrong and the Bible is the only source for knowledge and fact. This retards our growth as a nation and as a species. It has infected our politics to the degree that if you don’t claim to believe in God, in particular the Christian God, you are branded as evil and unelectable. Even someone like Donald Trump, who you know isn’t a “practicing” Christian, says he believes in God and will protect Christianity. Saying these things will gain him votes from Christians. It’ doesn’t matter that he’s a nutcase. He says he “believes” and that’s good enough for them.
But besides all this, there is a deeply personal reason why I hate religion (in particular Christianity). One that I recently became aware of and I would like to share it with you.
As a lot of you know, I was raised in a very religious home. I was part of three separate Christian denominations in my lifetime, as was the rest of my immediate family (with the exception of my brother who is 15 years younger than I am). From birth to the age of seven, I was raised Catholic. From ages seven to ten, our family was involved in a non-denominational “Evangelical Free” church with no alliances to any “parent” hierarchy of church governing, administrations or main offices. From ages ten to eighteen, my family went to an Assemblies of God (A/G) church. The rest of my immediate family still attends this church.
At the end of 2014, the A/G had 12,849 churches in the United States with over three million members. Worldwide there are 372,923 churches with close to 62 million members. They even have them broken down by age of child membership. In 2014, out of the three million members in the US, the child membership of the American A/G churches were:
0-5: 323,321
6-12: 406,248
13-17: 275,871
This means that 1,005,440 of the 3 million members (one third) in the U.S. are children. Three million is almost 1% of the population in the US. This is just one denomination out of the 32,000 denominations of Christianity. I mention these statistics to let you know the scope of this one denomination and one interpretation of the Bible. Imagine 32,000 denominations.
My deconversion from Christianity started in Bible college (when I was 17) and ended when I was 21. At 21 years of age, I didn’t know what I believed, but I did know that based on its own doctrine, its own writings, and the lack of substance in its claims, the biblical God and Christianity WAS NOT what it claims to be.
Between the ages of 21 and 38, I put “seeking the truth” in the back of my mind. During this time, I was busy dating my future wife, getting married, having a daughter, getting divorced, changing career directions, getting reintroduced into the dating scene. At age 38, I met a woman named Melody, who totally changed everything in my life. She was a “spiritual” girl, but not a Christian. She was Wiccan. She died of cancer when I was 42.
About 6 months after Melody died, my sister and I were having a conversation in her dining room. We were talking about religion, Jesus, and the afterlife. My sister started crying, and said to me, “Michael, if you die, I am afraid I will never see you again.” I hugged her and started crying as well. I told her that she was right, that she would never “see me” again, but the reason wasn’t because of what she feared.
She obviously was referring to me going to Hell after I die because I don’t believe in Jesus, God, or the Bible. You see, I know this conversation. I know this line of thought and reasoning. I remember being indoctrinated into this belief at a young age with all the devil, and sinning, and the “Hell to fear and Heaven to gain” mentality that was drilled into my head with the expectation that I would accept it at face value. We were in church every time the doors were open. Sundays were damn near an all-day event. Two services and Sunday School on Sunday morning, Sunday evening service, Tuesday night Awana Club, Wednesday night prayer meeting, Thursday Youth group, Choir practice, not to mention youth retreats, religious camping trips, and other youth group related activities. So I knew exactly where my sister’s fear and anguish was coming from.
At first I felt bad. Those of you who know me know that my family means the world to me. I blamed myself and felt bad for causing my sister harm. I know that it also pains my mother to see me rejecting her religious beliefs. I mean, how bad is that: knowing my sister, mother, and the rest of my siblings, nieces and nephews are all thinking that I will be tortured and tormented for all of eternity? I also know that nothing short of me rejecting my rational thoughts and going back to my blind faith, religious beliefs and roots will help the situation. There is no faking this in my family. Going to church will not rectify the situation. Only a total 180 degree turnaround from my present way of thinking will suffice.
After I thought about this for a bit, my feelings of guilt and anguish from that day turned to anger. I am angry at religion! I am angry at the stupidity of our species which has been led down this path many times before in the history of our existence. We got rid of all those gods that we believed in prior to the most current gods (yes…plural). We still believe in those myths: (virgin birth, blood sacrifice, resurrection from the dead, ascension into heaven) that were attributed to the prior gods, We have just changed the names of the deities. I can’t believe people who, for the most part are rational and smart, suddenly are brain-dead when it comes to this particular area of their lives.
I’m also angry that these teachings are infecting children and teenagers. I am thankful to see that non-religious people: Nones/Atheists/Non-believers, are increasing in number. At the end of 2014, nearly 22% of the United States population identified themselves as not affiliated with any religion and 15% say they are agnostic or atheist. The 7% who are non-affiliated with any religion, but don’t self-identify as an atheist, basically think there might be some sort of universal force, or want to believe there is something else. They do not think the “bible” is true. In fact, they don’t know the nature of god and are just speculating.
One thing I was very adamant about was that I did not want my family to proselytize my daughter. What I mean to say is that, when we go to my family’s house for holidays and such, they don’t have to stop saying grace at meals or discussing the religious event that they happen to be celebrating (Christmas, Easter, etc.). I just don’t want them witnessing to her. I don’t want them to try to tell her what they think God thinks, or that she is a sinner worthy of being tossed into Hell unless she believes in God. When my daughter was younger, my mother tried that a couple of times. But I was in the room when that started and I stopped it. Now that she is 18 and knows better; she can defend and explain her stand on religion all by herself. She knows there is no possible way that Creationism or the Noah story is true. She received straight A’s in science and history. She understands evolution, the formation of the earth, moon, and solar system. I have taught her to look at everything logically and rationally. We frequently talk about science and religion, and how ridiculous it is that people believe something that has no proof at all, and take it as fact. She does not understand how I could have believed in that. By the time I was 18, I was just starting to deprogram myself from this part of my upbringing. She will never know that pain, or know the guilt trip that religion brings, or the rejection of well-established, scientific facts and good sense that blind faith requires. She will never have an identity crisis or a crisis of faith when it comes to this topic. She has been spared all that. It pleases me that I have broken that cycle with my daughter, and hopefully, if she has children, she will pass that on to them.
So that is why I hate religion. This is also why I wage war on religion. Until Christianity comes up with a provable story, I will not believe. I will not stop warring until I die. My daughter also might continue it, but since she didn’t experience the stuff I did, and it is not a fight she feels as passionately about as I do. If there was some credible evidence, the scientific community would be flabbergasted. But there isn’t any. Christians will say that the scientific community hides these claims so that they never see the light of day. That is not so, and those who say this show their ignorance concerning the scientific method, their own laziness in researching these issues, and their fear that everything they believe about God and religion is wrong.
