Matthew
August 25th 2005, 06:11 PM
I have decided to post my deconversion story here in this section for non-theists. My reason is simple- because no Christian can come in here and make comments and fall prey to the temptation to play "spiritual psychiatrist". Many Christians believe it's not possible to deconvert from Christianity, while others believe that it's possible but wonder why on earth you ever would. Here, edited, is my deconversion story.
From Religion to Reason
was born in March of 1978 to a young Christian couple. My dad was a divinity student at a Bible college in San Jose and my mother was on medical leave, herself a student. I was raised in a very conservative Christian family. My dad was a minister and my mother was a housewife and music leader for our Church. When we were growing up, like many other Christian families, we were taught never to question the faith. Religion was never considered a matter of reason or logic but we were taught to believe it based on authority; religion was not something that was backed up by historical or any other kind of scientific evidence or any sort, but rather, it was true because my dad said so.
I was first baptized at 13. I really didn't have a deep grasp at what being a Christian was all about. It wasn't so much that I really understood what Christians described as a "relationship" with Jesus Christ. Rather, I had convinced myself that I committed a sexual sin and sought relief from the guilt it created. Some time after I was baptized, I backslid for a year or so. In the summer of 1992, my dad moved our family to San Francisco. My dad was the only pastor at a First Christian Church and the Board of Trustrees had decided to prepare a house they owned next door to be a parsonage for my family. My mother didn't want to go but my dad wouldn't hear of it. After much arguing my dad moved us over there.
My dad decided to enroll my brother Dan and myself in a private Christian high school. I recall meeting an English teacher who was a committed Christian. Impressed by his character, I decided to devote my life to Jesus Christ. This time I wanted a relationship with Jesus. Things went well for some time. But soon enough I began to have doubts. Did I handle my doubts in a calm, rational, and objective manner? Far from it! I hit the panic button! I recall the first time I ever had doubts, rather than try to rationally analyze it and treat it as a problem to be solved, I tried a silly superstitous ritual to revitalize my faith. It worked and I was able to stave off doubts for some time. But, like a pesky poltergeist, they would return.
I never really talked to my dad about doubts I had or trials I seemed to go through. He seemed to get rather angry that I would even doubt or question the faith. I recall one time I asked a very innocent question to my dad. I was fascinated with theology and asked him a simple question because I thought he was the best resource. My dad could've replied "That's an interesting question, Matt. I never really studied that a lot. Tell you what, why don't you go down to the library or a Christian bookstore and see if there are any books on the subject?" His actual response was in angry frustration: "I don't know and I am not really worried about it!". Offended by such a response I recall saying "Geez..you're a grouch!" "You have no right to call me that!!!" he yelled. I recall leaving the living room thinking what a jerk he was.
After this and similar experiences I decided not to go to my dad for help. I couldn't go to my mother because she would simply refer me to my dad and it seemed like every time I had a problem or trial in my life my dad would make me feel very guilty or stupid for letting a problem "get to me". As far as my religious problems went, I knew I was on my own. Sometime after my freshman year, I became interested in "apologetics". Apologetics is the art of defending the Christian faith. Now, one might assume that I would simply go to the nearest Christian bookstore and stock up on Josh McDowell, Paul Little, and other Christian apologists, right? Well, not exactly.
Inspired by a television show, I decided to manufacture my own proofs of God's existence. All from the Bible! What a naive young teenager I was! When I was in my sophomore year of high school, I decided to test my "proofs" out on my history teacher. You can imagine the expression on my face when he saw right through them! But problems got worse. That year marked my first deep exposure to the theory of evolution beyond a mention of it in a history book from my freshman year. I recall reading my dad's college biology textbook on the "evidence" for evolution and I recall reading the first chapter of Romans and about how men exchanged the glory of the immortal God for images made to look like mortal man and creatures. Somehow I just knew Romans was right but I had no clue how to explain the "evidence" for evolution.
About a week before Thanksgiving of my sophomore year, I was jumped at the public high school I had been going to. The administrators at Galileo High couldn't assure my parents that I would be safe from the gang related activity so I was withdrawn. My parents decided to homeschool me. That proved to be a mistake as well. By that time I had gotten interested in apologetics. My dad decided to try to talk me out of it. According to my dad, instead of being interested in apologetics, I should think about becoming an inventor. That way I could make a lot of money. But I wasn't interested in making any money at that time. I was only 15-16 for Pete's sake! I wasn't going to make up for what I later thought was my dad's or grampa's lost dreams of being rich and very wealthy. Yet my dad thought that Christians should be trying to make a lot of money and preach Christ crucified to their friends.
My dad didn't like the thought of apologetics very much. My dad thought that a good testimonial of the joy that Jesus gives someone should be more than sufficient proof that Christianity was true. My dad expected us to believe the faith was true mostly because of his testimonial ( the irony, of course, was that my dad was just as often grumpy and grouchy as he was joyful as I was growing up). But there was something odd about testimonials. I couldn't put my finger on it right then and there but there was something fishy about it. I would learn a few years later that many different religions as well as atheism, pantheism, deism, and agnosticism had glowing testimonials and using glowing testimonials to argue for Christianity was special pleading at best. Never-the-less my dad believed that a testimonial was the only correct proof that anyone could need or want that the faith is true. My dad just couldn't see how anyone who was not a Christian, after meeting him, could not want to become one.
That Christmas, I got McDowell's tome Evidence That Demands a Verdict. Here was the miracle tylenol that I needed to quench my doubts! I recall devouring the chapters on the historical reliability of the Bible and the chapter on fulfilled prophecy. So impressed with this book, I decided to write to the ministry and express my struggles with evolution. I was sent a book by McDowell on the subject of evolution. I had at this time became fascinated with "creation-science" and started odering books from the Institute for Creation-Research.
It was at this time that my dad was considering moving out of the city. My mother was happy because we had a family meeting and my dad was strongly considering it. Everything was going pretty good it seemed. Or so I thought.
I don't know what it was but my dad made some decisions that he didn't explain to us. My dad thought that it was a mistake to take me out of public school and so the next year I would be going back to public school and he decided that we were not moving out of the city. My dad not only didn't expain it to us ( he felt he didn't need to explain his decisions, just accept them without question) but his personality seemed to take a turn for the worst. Over the next couple of years my dad seemed to become more grumpy, much more domineering. He fancied himself the unquestionable father figure.
I recall going to Pt. Magu naval base to visit my uncle Bruce and his family. When I went there, my grandmother made me a grandiose offer; she offered for me to go up to Oregon and stay there and even go to a Christian high school. As much as I loved the opportunity I turned it down. My dad wouldn't even hear about it. I just knew it. My dad wouldn't even discuss it, wouldn't hear of it, just put his hand up and look the other way.
Soon enough I found myself back in high school. I went to Arroyo High school in San Lorenzo. I was determined this time to get straight A's. I tried and I tried but I barely got above C's or B's. I tried my hardest but I felt that my hardest was far from good. I couldn't go to my dad for help because I felt that he would get angry. I didn't want to go for help. I had this stigma of going to help for my studies. I felt that the only proper way to learn anything was to do it all by yourself without anyone's help whatsoever. Help was the whimp's way out. It was a complete academic cop-out. It was my responsibility and mine alone to get good grades without anyone's help.
I never achieved academic excellence. Nor did I ever meet my dream girl. Throughout junior high and high school, as far as I could tell, I always wanted a girlfriend. All the other kids seemed to have a romantic partner, including Christian kids, so why not me? Why shouldn't I be privy to the same kinds of blessings as other kids? I recall sitting in a chemistry class and looking at the girl behind me. It dawned on me that no girl would ever like me, especially not in high school.
My junior year of high school was the year of hell for me. However, my senior year of high school wasn't so bad. In fact, it was much better! I not only finally made honors but I decided to dress differently, try to fit in. I thought that if I dressed like my brother Dan, I was bound to get a girlfriend. So I dressed like my brother. All the girls seemed to adore him. The girls thought he was so cute. I so envied him. I graduated from high school with honors that semester. Everything seemed to be going well except that Mrs. Right never came along. What happened?
To be continued in Part 2
From Religion to Reason
was born in March of 1978 to a young Christian couple. My dad was a divinity student at a Bible college in San Jose and my mother was on medical leave, herself a student. I was raised in a very conservative Christian family. My dad was a minister and my mother was a housewife and music leader for our Church. When we were growing up, like many other Christian families, we were taught never to question the faith. Religion was never considered a matter of reason or logic but we were taught to believe it based on authority; religion was not something that was backed up by historical or any other kind of scientific evidence or any sort, but rather, it was true because my dad said so.
I was first baptized at 13. I really didn't have a deep grasp at what being a Christian was all about. It wasn't so much that I really understood what Christians described as a "relationship" with Jesus Christ. Rather, I had convinced myself that I committed a sexual sin and sought relief from the guilt it created. Some time after I was baptized, I backslid for a year or so. In the summer of 1992, my dad moved our family to San Francisco. My dad was the only pastor at a First Christian Church and the Board of Trustrees had decided to prepare a house they owned next door to be a parsonage for my family. My mother didn't want to go but my dad wouldn't hear of it. After much arguing my dad moved us over there.
My dad decided to enroll my brother Dan and myself in a private Christian high school. I recall meeting an English teacher who was a committed Christian. Impressed by his character, I decided to devote my life to Jesus Christ. This time I wanted a relationship with Jesus. Things went well for some time. But soon enough I began to have doubts. Did I handle my doubts in a calm, rational, and objective manner? Far from it! I hit the panic button! I recall the first time I ever had doubts, rather than try to rationally analyze it and treat it as a problem to be solved, I tried a silly superstitous ritual to revitalize my faith. It worked and I was able to stave off doubts for some time. But, like a pesky poltergeist, they would return.
I never really talked to my dad about doubts I had or trials I seemed to go through. He seemed to get rather angry that I would even doubt or question the faith. I recall one time I asked a very innocent question to my dad. I was fascinated with theology and asked him a simple question because I thought he was the best resource. My dad could've replied "That's an interesting question, Matt. I never really studied that a lot. Tell you what, why don't you go down to the library or a Christian bookstore and see if there are any books on the subject?" His actual response was in angry frustration: "I don't know and I am not really worried about it!". Offended by such a response I recall saying "Geez..you're a grouch!" "You have no right to call me that!!!" he yelled. I recall leaving the living room thinking what a jerk he was.
After this and similar experiences I decided not to go to my dad for help. I couldn't go to my mother because she would simply refer me to my dad and it seemed like every time I had a problem or trial in my life my dad would make me feel very guilty or stupid for letting a problem "get to me". As far as my religious problems went, I knew I was on my own. Sometime after my freshman year, I became interested in "apologetics". Apologetics is the art of defending the Christian faith. Now, one might assume that I would simply go to the nearest Christian bookstore and stock up on Josh McDowell, Paul Little, and other Christian apologists, right? Well, not exactly.
Inspired by a television show, I decided to manufacture my own proofs of God's existence. All from the Bible! What a naive young teenager I was! When I was in my sophomore year of high school, I decided to test my "proofs" out on my history teacher. You can imagine the expression on my face when he saw right through them! But problems got worse. That year marked my first deep exposure to the theory of evolution beyond a mention of it in a history book from my freshman year. I recall reading my dad's college biology textbook on the "evidence" for evolution and I recall reading the first chapter of Romans and about how men exchanged the glory of the immortal God for images made to look like mortal man and creatures. Somehow I just knew Romans was right but I had no clue how to explain the "evidence" for evolution.
About a week before Thanksgiving of my sophomore year, I was jumped at the public high school I had been going to. The administrators at Galileo High couldn't assure my parents that I would be safe from the gang related activity so I was withdrawn. My parents decided to homeschool me. That proved to be a mistake as well. By that time I had gotten interested in apologetics. My dad decided to try to talk me out of it. According to my dad, instead of being interested in apologetics, I should think about becoming an inventor. That way I could make a lot of money. But I wasn't interested in making any money at that time. I was only 15-16 for Pete's sake! I wasn't going to make up for what I later thought was my dad's or grampa's lost dreams of being rich and very wealthy. Yet my dad thought that Christians should be trying to make a lot of money and preach Christ crucified to their friends.
My dad didn't like the thought of apologetics very much. My dad thought that a good testimonial of the joy that Jesus gives someone should be more than sufficient proof that Christianity was true. My dad expected us to believe the faith was true mostly because of his testimonial ( the irony, of course, was that my dad was just as often grumpy and grouchy as he was joyful as I was growing up). But there was something odd about testimonials. I couldn't put my finger on it right then and there but there was something fishy about it. I would learn a few years later that many different religions as well as atheism, pantheism, deism, and agnosticism had glowing testimonials and using glowing testimonials to argue for Christianity was special pleading at best. Never-the-less my dad believed that a testimonial was the only correct proof that anyone could need or want that the faith is true. My dad just couldn't see how anyone who was not a Christian, after meeting him, could not want to become one.
That Christmas, I got McDowell's tome Evidence That Demands a Verdict. Here was the miracle tylenol that I needed to quench my doubts! I recall devouring the chapters on the historical reliability of the Bible and the chapter on fulfilled prophecy. So impressed with this book, I decided to write to the ministry and express my struggles with evolution. I was sent a book by McDowell on the subject of evolution. I had at this time became fascinated with "creation-science" and started odering books from the Institute for Creation-Research.
It was at this time that my dad was considering moving out of the city. My mother was happy because we had a family meeting and my dad was strongly considering it. Everything was going pretty good it seemed. Or so I thought.
I don't know what it was but my dad made some decisions that he didn't explain to us. My dad thought that it was a mistake to take me out of public school and so the next year I would be going back to public school and he decided that we were not moving out of the city. My dad not only didn't expain it to us ( he felt he didn't need to explain his decisions, just accept them without question) but his personality seemed to take a turn for the worst. Over the next couple of years my dad seemed to become more grumpy, much more domineering. He fancied himself the unquestionable father figure.
I recall going to Pt. Magu naval base to visit my uncle Bruce and his family. When I went there, my grandmother made me a grandiose offer; she offered for me to go up to Oregon and stay there and even go to a Christian high school. As much as I loved the opportunity I turned it down. My dad wouldn't even hear about it. I just knew it. My dad wouldn't even discuss it, wouldn't hear of it, just put his hand up and look the other way.
Soon enough I found myself back in high school. I went to Arroyo High school in San Lorenzo. I was determined this time to get straight A's. I tried and I tried but I barely got above C's or B's. I tried my hardest but I felt that my hardest was far from good. I couldn't go to my dad for help because I felt that he would get angry. I didn't want to go for help. I had this stigma of going to help for my studies. I felt that the only proper way to learn anything was to do it all by yourself without anyone's help whatsoever. Help was the whimp's way out. It was a complete academic cop-out. It was my responsibility and mine alone to get good grades without anyone's help.
I never achieved academic excellence. Nor did I ever meet my dream girl. Throughout junior high and high school, as far as I could tell, I always wanted a girlfriend. All the other kids seemed to have a romantic partner, including Christian kids, so why not me? Why shouldn't I be privy to the same kinds of blessings as other kids? I recall sitting in a chemistry class and looking at the girl behind me. It dawned on me that no girl would ever like me, especially not in high school.
My junior year of high school was the year of hell for me. However, my senior year of high school wasn't so bad. In fact, it was much better! I not only finally made honors but I decided to dress differently, try to fit in. I thought that if I dressed like my brother Dan, I was bound to get a girlfriend. So I dressed like my brother. All the girls seemed to adore him. The girls thought he was so cute. I so envied him. I graduated from high school with honors that semester. Everything seemed to be going well except that Mrs. Right never came along. What happened?
To be continued in Part 2