Being A Christian
When I was a Christian, I thought the best way to keep people out of hell was to convince them that they were going there if they didn’t accept the grace offered graciously by the Almighty God. It might sound a bit crude when you put it that way, and if you presented that way of thinking about what I was trying to do to the old me, I probably would have shaken my head and said it wasn’t that simple before attempting to put it in much more complex, poetic Christian language. Perhaps focus on trying to save people, on how the world was a place full of the weary lost, and on how I was passionate about showing them the beauty of God’s light. Less emphasis on hell, and a more emphasized awareness that sometimes the world is cold and depressing. I wanted to save people from the dissatisfaction, guilt, depression, and pain they felt in life; hell was just, more or less, the logical fulfillment of this inner pain. The trials of this world, so deeply felt in so many lives, needed an answer in a God who would stand by them, if only they asked.
[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Us-TVg40ExM[/youtube]
The thought that some might be going to hell wasn’t meant as a personal insult; I cared about the “the lost.” I simply didn’t want them to suffer – I didn’t think about the concept of hell as disrespectful to those supposedly going there, really. It was just the way it was, and I wanted to save people from the natural consequences of their orientation and actions, as I saw them.
And so, like anyone who desires to rescue someone else they care about from certain fate, I equipped myself. I read apologetics and communicated, for hours, with non-Christians I sought out, trying to dissuade them from continuing down a hell-bound path. I was going to make it my life’s work to keep people from going there, because the prospect of their eternal anguish kept me up nights. The thought of anyone going to hell was more disturbing to me than the thought that anyone, including myself, was going to heaven.
As time went on, I looked into several different concepts of hell, especially as the hellfire one I grew up with became more and more disturbing. As I studied, I came across annihilationism, the concept that they would have a second chance, the concept that hell was simply separation from God (without, necessarily, fire and brimstone), as well as several other conceptions of hell. For several Christians, the presence of so many conceptualizations of hell relieves their concern for others supposedly there or going there. For me, there was an increase in discomfort. The number of possibilities made me uncomfortable with uncertainty, and the awareness that, in most of these conceptions, I would be going to a forever-ever-after and others would not, disturbed me greatly.
What made it all harder is that, increasingly, I was trying to take the command to love your neighbor as yourself very seriously. So as I grew even more empathetic, I began to realize, slowly, how difficult it was to love my neighbor while, at the same time, stomach the thought that my supposed neighbor was going to go to hell, no matter what the rationale for that fate was.
And I noticed, as well, that in prioritizing those I should talk to about hell, I tended discriminate and view some people as more likely to go to hell than others. If you denied Jesus was the Christ, the chances of going to hell, it seemed, were higher than those of someone who didn’t. It wasn’t a judgmental thing, in my mind; it was in the interests of saving people from this fate. But it disturbed me, increasingly, that I couldn’t do this without seeing the people who were deniers as perhaps fundamentally flawed in a way that made their going to hell justice.
Faith vs. Doubt
As time passed, the idea of hell for those who did not have salvation grew more absurd. How could I think that somebody was going to hell simply because they didn’t believe that a guy rose from the dead 2000 years ago, especially when there were so many incredible things said about this person in the accounts we had of him that would defy, it seemed, any honest person’s credulity? No, I’m not saying that there wasn’t an ornate theological reason why, and that’s what I used to rationalize it. But still, this was an incredible thing to believe. Maybe the people weren’t rejecting Christ simply because they were closing their hearts to God; maybe they were rejecting it for the same reason I would reject someone telling me that any other famous person rose from the dead.
For a long time, these thoughts weren’t convictions. They were in my mind, and they didn’t disturb my faith all that much because they were in the realm of Doubt. And Doubt was, I thought, something that was inconsequential to whether what I believed with Faith was actually true. So these were annoying thoughts that bothered me, but for a long time they did not divorce me from what I thought was true in the realm of Faith.
Then, there was also the sin in the New Testament – it became increasingly difficult to see many of the biblically defined “sins” as wrong. I mean, same-sex marriage didn’t seem sinful, once you saw it up close – it seemed like a beautiful relationship between people who loved each other. Christians around me said, “Well, homosexuality is no worse than adultery,” but that didn’t make sense to me either, over time. It’s not like it was a sin that wasn’t as bad or was just as bad as other sins. It was just a beautiful relationship that wasn’t a sin at all, it appeared; it seemed something to celebrate.
I’m not saying that these things deconverted me, in and of themselves. But they were among the many holes in what I believed that I wanted to patch up with evidence and philosophy. However, when I looked for answers, I saw still more holes in philosophy and in the evidence that Christian apologets presented. And as I saw the holes, I saw, increasingly, that it wasn’t Christian principles that were judging people as going to to hell. It was my choice to believe them. And that choice was hurting people. It was hurting the way that I looked at people. It was hurting the way I looked at myself, in ways I didn’t know, then. And as the holes became more numerous, I began to discover a fear of hell…
For a long time, I didn’t think I was really afraid of hell. Christian apologists frequently say that doubts are no major threat to belief; in that way, doubts become more of an irritant to be occasionally explored than serious threats. And when you’re confident you’re going to heaven, you’re often not really afraid of going to hell (and in many cases, a very rational fear of hell in someone can indicate to other Christians in some — though certainly not all — traditions a proof of sin or a psychological problem). But in many deconversions, as the doubts begin to grow, so does the fear, because you have been conditioned to think that the presence of doubt is irrelevant to whether or not what you believe is true. So the suspicion that the doubt is relevant to whether or not what you believe is true…that’s dangerous.; that’s what you’re afraid of. And as that suspicion grows, so does the fear that you’ll lose your faith and that you, personally, will go to hell. In truth, though, it’s a fear you always had, without knowing it was there — something that kept you a Christian without your realizing it.
Growing Into Change
It was very hard. In some places, it was horrific, depressing, and psychologically crushing. But I couldn’t extinguish, try as I might, the suspicion that my doubts were relevant to the truth of Christianity, so this suspicion grew until it became a real possibility in my mind. And one Friday evening, I remember, I pulled over my car due to my mind being weighed down by overwhelming philosophical and material and emotional evidence, and finally allowed that suspicion to cut me off from faith.
I don’t think it’s an overstatement to say that was the best decision I’ve made in my life. Afterwards I was able to look at others and myself without comparing who they were to what a book said. It’s hard to overexpress how much unanticipated joy I felt in being released from the prescribed mindset that Christianity gave me; in many ways, it gave me the opportunity see the world and respect others in ways I had not realized the Bible had closed me off from before. And it made me really care about the concept of hell that kept Christians in the faith and that misdefined so many people as flawed when they were actually beautiful people — a fact that could only be realized if we stopped using the Bible’s empty guidelines to view them and saw them as they actually were.
[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J-t2ouOLYYw[/youtube]
Although I am the same person, in many ways, that I was as a Christian, I have changed in that I have gone from being uncomcortable with a hell I thought existed, to absolutely hating the concept of hell. I hate how fear of it is used to invalidate people’s doubts — allowing them to have the doubts, but not to seriously consider the possibility that doubts regarding basic Christian doctrine reflect reality. I hate how it often seems to give Christians tunnel vision when it comes to friends they care about, prompting Christians who love their non Christian friends to see these friends as in danger of hellfire instead of seeing them as the beautifully awesome incarnations of humanity they are. I hate how the concepts of sin that are propped up, in many ways, by the concept of hell are often the most beautiful things about people, in ways that Christians who believe in hell are barred from seeing. And more than that — I hate the fact that people worship the God of a Christianity that says hell is what humanity deserves.
It really makes me angry, because the increase of understanding I have from seeing people without the suspicion they may be in danger of hell has shown me how much the concept of hell is harmful and misconstrues people. That anger is a major part of what makes me not just an atheist, but an anti-theist. And a lot of Christians get upset with me about how upset I get about hell, but it can’t be helped, in a way, because when I care about them I care more even more about how the concept of hell has so much dominion over their lives, our relationship, and, by extension, my own life. I’m an honest person, so I tend to tell them clearly and directly what my stance is. I used to think hell was real, and so I wanted to save people from it, like a man wants to save someone from walking off a cliff. Now, I think it’s a harmful concept, and I want to save humanity from it, as someone who deeply cares may want to save humanity from any concept that attacks the basic dignity and value in a human life.
It’s been a battle. But I’ve been thinking about how this pursuit is nothing new. It’s the journey that’s been driving me forward all my life.
Many of the Christian friends I knew before say I’ve changed. But if you look closer, I think, you’ll realize I’m the same person — and it’s the person I’ve always been who has made me change into the person I am.
We usually talk about “conversion” and “deconversion” as if they are hard lines we cross that make us fundamentally different people. But the truth is that those are just sign posts on the same path of life, I think. Life and circumstances happen, and because of that I’ve ended up believing a lot of things that I no longer think are true, and each changing viewpoint has moved me a step forward in this relatively short journey of life. But there’s a motivation to move forward that’s always been a constant in my life; it’s hard to define, but it feels like love.
It’s not about religion’s unsupported rules and false claims, primarily, although that is a relevant and unimpeachable part of my anti-theistic stance.
The primary thing that keeps me going forward is a desire to have a relationship with humanity gets past dividing lies and becomes defined by the truth of our mutual existence.
I want to reach my hand out to you across the divide, and maybe once your palm is in mine, the power of that friendship can help us unite and stand by each other. And the beauty of that union has the potential to replace the concepts of heaven and hell with a wonderful world that, in many ways, due to an increased understanding and appreciation of the world around me, I’ve begun to taste, every moment.
[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2nGKqH26xlg[/youtube]
So, that’s why I’m here, an atheist now, trying to save Christians from hell, so to speak.
Thanks for giving me a moment to explain.