Whether you are new to the blog or have followed my blog for months, it’s a good idea to periodically discuss our origins.  Each of us have distinct personal histories.  Many of you are familiar with my story about leaving the IFB (independent fundamental baptist) cultic group in 2007.  I was asked by Tristan Vick, the Advocatus Atheist blogmaster, to tell my story in his collection of essays in a Deconversion Anthology.  It will be released in December 2012.  I will keep you posted as to the details and availability of this book.  Therefore, I put together a 10-part-essay of my journey out of a religious cult into mainstream American culture.

Today, I give you the final installment of my story:  Living After Faith.  

If you missed them, you can read all my prior posts in this story here:

Part 1: Asking the Hard Questions

Part 2: Leaving My Man Behind

Part 3: Losing My Education

Part 4:  Exploring My Religion

Part 5: Floundering in Religious Options

Part 6: Married Outside the Church

Part 7: Dropping My Church

Part 8: Catholicism, My Last Resort

Part 9: Coming Out as an Atheist

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Dark months followed for my relationships with my husband and mother-in-law, who was also our landlord living above us at the time.  She planted seeds of doubt in J.O.’S  mind about our marriage, how she had been right all along about my insanity.  I had finally jumped off the cliff and committed spiritual suicide.  Because of her needling, we came to the very brink of divorce.  It seemed as if we could not continue our lives together, no matter how deeply we loved each other.  Thankfully, we diagnosed the problem as the mother-in-law (and not our differing belief systems) and promptly moved out from her building several miles away.  This act salvaged our marriage, and we began afresh.  I lived freely as an atheist, and he chose Catholicism.  Both of us respected the other’s decision, key to sustaining our marital satisfaction.

Living after faith.  I thought it impossible to live a meaningful life without a god dictating my every move.  How could I be a moral person without an otherworldly being reading my every fleeting thought?  How could I love my husband without Christ’s love flowing through me?  What would I do with my freed up Sundays?  Now, that was the easiest question of them all.

Without unfounded belief, I have embraced life beyond the scope of my experience as a Christian.  Life is finite, each day to be treasured.  I no longer fear death or the flames of hell.  Death is inevitable and final, but I can accept that reality.  I have never felt the thrill of being alive, as I do now.  I only wish that more people could experience this freedom to think for themselves, without fear.

Looking back upon my journey, I am amazed that I survived psychologically without a mental professional, something I would recommend to those leaving any type of restrictive group.  I actually escaped childhood indoctrination, forsook the cultic group, and emerged into a healthy and happy non-believer.  Not a likely path for all of my family and friends still trapped in religion.

As a recovering Christian, I understand both sides of the religious coin.  One of my struggles with my newfound atheism is that I lack fundamental critical thinking skills.  I am still like a child learning to access my rational brain.  I am learning the need for patience with myself while I adjust to a life after faith.  Not a stereotypical atheist, I embrace rational discussions with believers and skeptics alike.  I am not a confrontational atheist by any means.  My ambition is to live the life of a good atheist, to demonstrate to my family and friends that it’s possible.  It’s only been a year since I came out, but even my mom has commented that I’m still a nice person, nothing like her perception of a militant atheist.

Was the journey easy to leave faith?  Not at all.  I risked everything to leave faith.  The cost was more than most Christians would be willing to lose.  Would I do it all over again knowing what I know now?  Without a doubt.  Deconversion is a painful process, but worthwhile for the person seeking unbiased truth based upon verifiable evidence.  Christian or non-Christian, we all have a responsibility to examine the evidence and make a choice.  Ultimately, that choice is up to you.

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Readers:  Have any of you converted or deconverted from a faith?  How did that decision affect your relationship with others and with yourself?  Leave your comment below.

Whether you are new to the blog or have followed my blog for months, it’s a good idea to periodically discuss our origins.  Each of us have distinct personal histories.  Many of you are familiar with my story about leaving the IFB (independent fundamental baptist) cultic group in 2007.  I was asked by Tristan Vick, the Advocatus Atheist blogmaster, to tell my story in his collection of essays in a Deconversion Anthology.  It will be released in December 2012.  I will keep you posted as to the details and availability of this book.  Therefore, I put together a 10-part-essay of my journey out of a religious cult into mainstream American culture.

Today, I give you Part 9 of my story:  Coming Out as an Atheist.  

If you missed them, you can read all my prior posts in this story here:

Part 1: Asking the Hard Questions

Part 2: Leaving My Man Behind

Part 3: Losing My Education

Part 4:  Exploring My Religion

Part 5: Floundering in Religious Options

Part 6: Married Outside the Church

Part 7: Dropping My Church

Part 8: Catholicism, My Last Resort

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Though it was a gradual process, one morning I woke up and reality dawned: I no longer believed in God. The evidence did not line up. The Bible was not inerrant. Jesus may not have even existed.  I could deny it no longer:  I was an atheist.

Coming out.  Those two words scared the devil out of me.  I would destroy relationships if I even breathed the word “atheist” let alone claimed to be one.  My marriage was precarious already, and I knew it would devastate my almost-converted-to-Catholic husband to know.  How long could I stay in the closet?  Many people survive closeted unbelief for years, if not decades.  I could never again live a lie.  The “fake it till you make it” philosophy was over for me.

I read The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron, more for my writing ambitions than establishing my newfound freedom from religion.  Still, this book played a vital role in my coming out as an atheist. Doing the exercises in Cameron’s 12-week-course re-established that I no longer believed in a sky daddy in any form.  And that was okay.  I possessed my own identity, not that attached to a spiritual calling.  A part of this course was Morning Pages, three pages of stream of consciousness writing.  I used this time to explore my refashioned psyche, the one who no longer believed in a god.  Because I am a writer by nature, I think best through typing my thoughts.  Each word that appeared on the screen was like another drop of soothing balm on my religiously molested mind.  True healing began only after I let go of the god fallacy.

At the time, it seemed crazy that I could not heal psychologically while attempting to embrace the IFB movement, the pentecostal craziness, and antiquated Catholicism.  Even my parents doubted my sanity at times, because they could not accept that I experienced severe mental and spiritual abuse at the hands of seemingly good-hearted Christians.  The official term for this occurrence is Religious Trauma Syndrome (RTS).  The consequences of RTS often mimic the symptoms of clinical mental disorders.  I struggled within my emotions.  I thought of the accusations from my mother-in-law and former church members about my mental instability.  I remembered all the harsh words accusing me of bipolar syndrome and a plethora of other religious members’ “diagnoses” of my wavering unbelief.

I had a choice to make.  I could succumb to their Christian brainwashing under pretense, or I could ally with courage through atheism.  The choice was mine this time.  I was no longer dependent upon my pentecostal parents for financial stability or my church for community.  After several weeks of silent wrestling, I came out.

My husband already knew that I was struggling with faith, but he never expected me to revoke belief completely.  I broke the news to him one night, and he broke down in tears.  An unspoken tension between our combatting belief systems lasted for several weeks.  Soon afterwards, I came out as atheist through a post on Facebook.  (As an introvert, I have my limits when it comes to confrontation.)  This act had consequences.  My mom, who had just been diagnosed as bipolar, sunk into depression.  Many of my religious family members sent emails and posts that they were praying for me, in addition to a list of Christian apologetics books. They assumed my atheism was due to my negative experiences with religion.  They refused to accept as valid any alternate explanation. How could I, the prior “Missionary Mindi,” abandon God?

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Readers:  Have you ever come out to your family or friends with a controversial revelation?  How did they react to your announcement?  Leave your comment below.

Whether you are new to the blog or have followed my blog for months, it’s a good idea to periodically discuss our origins.  Each of us have distinct personal histories.  Many of you are familiar with my story about leaving the IFB (independent fundamental baptist) cultic group in 2007.  I was asked by Tristan Vick, the Advocatus Atheist blogmaster, to tell my story in his collection of essays in a Deconversion Anthology.  It will be released in December 2012.  I will keep you posted as to the details and availability of this book.  Therefore, I put together a 10-part-essay of my journey out of a religious cult into mainstream American culture.

Today, I give you Part 8 of my story:  Catholicism, My Last Resort.  

If you missed them, you can read all my prior posts in this story here:

Part 1: Asking the Hard Questions

Part 2: Leaving My Man Behind

Part 3: Losing My Education

Part 4:  Exploring My Religion

Part 5: Floundering in Religious Options

Part 6: Married Outside the Church

Part 7: Dropping My Church

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My husband and I had discussed Catholicism prior to our marriage.  He desired to explore their beliefs because he was a traditionalist.  He put heavier stock into tradition, as opposed to individual analysis of a system.  He was skeptical of non-traditional approaches to belief, including atheism, skepticism, and anything anti-Christian.  I desperately wanted to believe in God.  I willed Catholicism to be true.  I opened my mind to the possibilities, even though I was indoctrinated to believe the Catholic Church was “the mother of Harlots” and would birth the anti-Christ during the apocalypse.

I began attending weekly mass at our local parish.  I enjoyed the solemnity and sacredness of the services, a stark departure from my baptist and pentecostal experiences.  After a few months of attendance, my husband and I met with the priests about joining the Church.  It was not as simple as walking the aisle and getting baptized (baptist) or speaking in tongues at the altar (pentecostal).  Catholicism required several months of weekly RCIA (Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults) classes to become a member.  We both signed up for the next available sessions.

During those classes, I struggled internally.  I wanted to stop holding myself accountable for my discoveries that did not support religion.  It was a weight hanging onto my mind.  If I resisted and blindly embraced Catholicism, the doubts would magically disappear.  I could again feel that freedom in Christ.  That warm, bubbly “I’m in love with Jesus” delusion.

Halfway through the program, I told my husband that I was done.  I could not force myself to fake belief.  Teachings of the Church were not adding up. My husband was devastated.  He floundered in his own belief for a few weeks, but he pressed on through the course without me.  This was a tremulous time for our marriage.

My last chance for belief in God – gone.  Without a god to believe in, what was the meaning of life?  Why was I here?  All these answers I had drilled into my head to refute these questions – they were all well-fabricated lies.  I admitted it:  for the first 23 years of my life, I lived in a world of virtual reality, of religion.  Now what?

I was ignorant of the basics.  The following are just a few of my misconceptions.  Evolution meant we came from monkeys.  Critical thinking was just the devil speaking.  Skepticism was the sin of Lucifer which condemned him to hell.  Humanism was undermining Christianity. Conspiracy Theories supported the irrefutably nearing Armageddon.  Communism was still a global threat even though the Berlin Wall came down decades ago.  All of a sudden, I was allowed to study these forbidden concepts without the distortion of mistaken presuppositions.  Exploring this new world dominated my reading material, YouTube viewing, and podcast listening.  I instituted my own Reality 101 course, but I still refused to tag myself as an atheist.

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Readers:  Have you ever ended up on the opposite side of the argument after researching the facts?  How did you feel about changing your stance to its polar opposite?  Leave your comment below.

Whether you are new to the blog or have followed my blog for months, it’s a good idea to periodically discuss our origins.  Each of us have distinct personal histories.  Many of you are familiar with my story about leaving the IFB (independent fundamental baptist) cultic group in 2007.  I was asked by Tristan Vick, the Advocatus Atheist blogmaster, to tell my story in his collection of essays in a Deconversion Anthology.  It will be released in December 2012.  I will keep you posted as to the details and availability of this book.  Therefore, I put together a 10-part-essay of my journey out of a religious cult into mainstream American culture.

Today, I give you Part 6 of my story:  Married Outside the Church.  

If you missed them, you can read all my prior posts in this story here:

Part 1: Asking the Hard Questions

Part 2: Leaving My Man Behind

Part 3: Losing My Education

Part 4:  Exploring My Religion

Part 5: Floundering in Religious Options

I met my soon-to-be husband, J.O. Anderson, at Chicago Tabernacle Church.  Our moms set us up, but I fell in love by my choice this time.  Everyone supported our relationship, until we decided to get married the following summer.  The church ruined all our plans.  They decided not to endorse the union and threatened us with spiritual destruction.  Why?  Our relationship simply did not fit their “approved timeline.” Plus, I was mentally disturbed according to their religious diagnosis of my doubting behavior.  The leaders turned my fiance’s  mother against us, and she refused to attend our wedding.  The leaders threatened to demote my father from his chaplain position if he performed our wedding ceremony.  The pastor called us into his office and spent one full hour emotionally abusing us.  We left Chicago Tabernacle for good after that pastor’s visit. My parents continued at Chicago Tabernacle, even after I was unfairly pronounced by their staff as mentally ill.   That hurt.  And deeply.

Both my husband and I wanted to get married, so we sought pre-marital counseling from outside the group.  We hired a pastor and married at a wedding chapel in July 2009.  Though we are now separated, that is one decision I do not regret.

We dropped out of church completely while we re-assessed our belief system.  I continued “walking with God” through prayer and Bible study on my own, but my husband was still ambivalent about God and religion.  He never bought into making God the sovereign leader of his life.  He was more pragmatic in his approach to living.  This was one of the aspects I loved about him, since all the other men in my life had been ignorant authoritarian zealots.  I adored my husband’s intellect.  I still do.

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Readers:  Did you ever drop out of church for a period?  How did that experience shape your spirituality?  Leave your comment below.

Whether you are new to the blog or have followed my blog for months, it’s a good idea to periodically discuss our origins.  Each of us have distinct personal histories.  Many of you are familiar with my story about leaving the IFB (independent fundamental baptist) cultic group in 2007.  I was asked by Tristan Vick, the Advocatus Atheist blogmaster, to tell my story in his collection of essays in a Deconversion Anthology.  It will be released in December 2012.  I will keep you posted as to the details and availability of this book.  Therefore, I put together a 10-part-essay of my journey out of a religious cult into mainstream American culture.

Today, I give you Part 7 of my story:  Dropping My Church.  

If you missed them, you can read all my prior posts in this story here:

Part 1: Asking the Hard Questions

Part 2: Leaving My Man Behind

Part 3: Losing My Education

Part 4:  Exploring My Religion

Part 5: Floundering in Religious Options

Part 6: Married Outside the Church

—————-

Three churches down, and I was discouraged I would never find another good church.  First Baptist Church:  cult.  Brooklyn Tabernacle:  feeling oriented.  Chicago Tabernacle:  authoritarian.  Was my discernment lacking?  If I could not determine God’s will for my own life, what did that speak of my Christianity?  I was confused and alone.  Thankfully, I married my best friend who stood strong for me while I recovered from the emotional and spiritual abuse.

I tried to re-establish my faith by reading Christian apologetics books.  I longed to re-connect with God despite all the negative experiences with religious leaders.  I refused to use my past as an excuse to leave Christianity.  I was the problem.  I was not doing it right.  Something was wrong with me, not with God.  So I prayed.  So I read my Bible.  So I opened my spirit to the Lord’s leading…once more.

After one year of marriage, the two of us began exploring other churches.  I still felt traumatized every time I walked into a church building.  I only wanted to be anonymous and never again a “core member” of a church.  My husband did not push me into a hasty decision about religion.

We never did find a new church home during our church exploration.  He tended towards church attendance as tradition rather than stringent belief in a hereafter. On the other hand, I approached religious belief with a cavalier attitude.  I wanted facts.  I wanted evidence.  I wanted proof.  That’s all I asked.

To answer my unrelenting questions, believers prompted me to seek God above all else.  I would know in my heart that He existed.  I had an epiphany. I realized that “the voice of God” was just my own voice.  It was not other worldly.  I was the one manipulating that voice to align with teachings from the pulpit or my own interpretation of the scriptures.  The Holy Spirit did not exist.  Another piece of my belief structure crumbled.

I asked myself, “Why do billions of people still believe in various gods for whom there is no corroborative evidence?”  I still held the fallacious assumption that there must be something to religion since so many people believed it.  Humanity has believed disproven philosophies through millennia.  Was I so arrogant to believe that we now had religion all figured out?  Not for long.  I researched the origins of religion through anthropology.  It held the answers I was searching for.  Religion came to be through an evolutionary adaptation to our environment.  Now I knew why the study of anthropology was forbidden in my upbringing.  It would have decimated any rational person’s faith in an inerrant Word of God.

Before arriving at my final conclusion about religion, there was one church I had not explored.  The world’s largest religion:  Catholicism.

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Readers:  Have you ever read Christian apologetics books or watched Christian apologist’s debate?  How did their arguments align with your critical thinking analysis of the evidence?  Leave your comment below.