Why I’m No Longer a Christian

It all started with a question.

I had been raised to accept the truth of Christianity along with my mother’s milk and father’s protection. The church taught me about the Bible, about the history of the Christian faith, and about my proper role in the Kingdom of Heaven. I eagerly read chapter and verse, seeking intimacy with God and better understanding of His divine purpose for me. Cover to cover I found myself traveling, a dozen times in my young life. And then I began to wonder about others outside my religious cocoon of certainty, people who weren’t as convinced as I thought myself to be. What kind of book is the Bible to someone who’s never read it, who’s never heard of it, who hasn’t been raised to accept it without question?

“Would I myself believe the Bible speaks truth if I hadn’t been raised from birth to think so?”

In an instant, my faith crumbled into dust, blown to the four corners of the Earth by a simple question. I didn’t have to mull it over. I didn’t even really have to answer it myself, since as soon as I asked the question I immediately knew…

…the answer was no.

Looking at my faith as an outsider would showed me what had been hidden for so long, by removing the plank in my own eye. So many assumptions had been fed to me, innocently if ignorantly enough by my parents, my family, my pastor, and my friends over the years that I hadn’t ever realized how many of my religious beliefs were built on sand.

Of course God exists, you can read about Him in the Bible. Of course the Bible is true, because it’s the Word of God. The circularity was breathtaking once I could see it for what it was.

Through it all, I resisted. I wanted Christianity to be true, not only because I didn’t want to be wrong, but also because I didn’t want to think about my parents lying to me, even unknowingly so. But my parents were not gods, they were not infallible. I knew they could make mistakes easily enough, so why should their beliefs about religion be immune from error?

I also clung to God selfishly. For years, I had taken comfort in the knowledge that I was a Special Creation, and that God had a Special Plan for my life. Whatever difficulties I had faced were insignificant, so I thought, compared to the power of the Almighty watching over me.

Losing God meant losing the person to thank for all the good things in my life, and all the fantastic wonders of His creation. But it also meant that I didn’t have to pretend that God wasn’t equally responsible for all the bad things in my life. Nor for the bad things that happened to other people that I could see in the world.

And there were lots of bad things. A shocking amount of evil is loose in a world controlled by what I had thought was an all-powerful, all-knowing, all-good God. Did I really still think that divine providence was at work when children were snatched from their homes, brutally raped, strangled, and tossed in a dumpster? Could I still conceive of a God who stood back with arms crossed while terrorists in the name of their God flew airplanes into buildings? Where was the Hand of God when office workers, desperate for a futile chance of survival, leaped hundreds of stories only to splatter on the Manhattan pavement below? And how could I acknowledge the love of a God who cursed my own grandmother before birth with a disease that slowly strangled her to death? Where was God when her family stood beside her bed as the lungs were crushed inside her chest and the life ebbed from her fragile and broken body?

The God of Love, the God that I had placed so much trust in, was a cosmic disappointment.

And yet the failure of God was a blessing in disguise. The chains of unquestioning belief fell away as I began to realize that I no longer needed to look to this false deity for moral guidance. The God who commanded Abraham to kill his only son, and who was willing to send His own Son to the sacrificial altar, was no source of what I recognized as morality. The Bible taught that the faith of Abraham was willingness to kill one’s own child at God’s command. And that this kind of faith was a good thing. This I could no longer tolerate.

The death of God was the birth of my humanity. For the first time, I began to see others as not brothers and sisters in or out of Christ, but simply as brothers and sisters. Without the dictates of an invisible deity, I began to embrace the tenets of Humanism, which regard human well-being and happiness as the greatest virtue. I came to realize that my moral instincts had pointed me in this direction naturally, and that all that was required of me was to cultivate these instincts with deeper consideration and introspection on the nature of the good.

Throughout this process I have continued to hope that my fellow religious travelers could come to appreciate my revelations about the nature of God and the importance of Humanism. The last time I received a sermon in earnest, I looked around me at the congregation during the closing prayer. I was surprised to find many pairs of open eyes catching mine, silently acknowledging the futility in the inevitability of their attendance. I was also shocked to read the desperation on the faces of those deep in prayer, seeking to force a metaphysical experience that creased their brows with expectation and exasperation.

There was a certain ironic comfort in seeing this dichotomy of doubt, which has been echoed in nearly every church I’ve since visited. Christians in America today find themselves in a precarious balance between belief and disbelief. Their families and culture demand belief, if only in tribute, for the right to pass unmolested through the patterned halls of our society. And yet every aspect of the modern world screams in support of disbelief, from the latest discoveries of science to the glaring necessity of pluralism. The average American is a Christian on Sunday, and a Humanist the other six days of the week.

I suppose the biggest benefit of giving up belief in Christianity is the ability to be the same person on Sunday that I am on Saturday.

6 thoughts on “Why I’m No Longer a Christian

  1. Great article, Zach. If I may make one correction: the faith of Abraham was that he would get Isaac back despite the sacrifice, that God would provide the lamb Himself. When Isaac asks about the lamb, Abraham responds in verse 8: “Abraham said, “God will provide for Himself the lamb for the burnt offering, my son.” Killing his son was definitely not a moral thing to do and Abraham was aware of that. He wasn’t approaching it knowing he would actually lose his son. He knew a lamb would be provided and that Isaac would not be taken from him. Likewise, God knew He would raise Jesus from the dead—He didn’t send Him to just die.

  2. I agree with John: good post. I appreciate the honesty. Many people who say they believe in a particular worldview like to cheat when that belief doesn’t suit them in a specific circumstance, and that phenomenon isn’t exclusive to Christianity. To clarify John’s point a bit: Paul says in Hebrews 11 that Abraham believed that God would raise Isaac from the dead if it came to that.

  3. This is a good read with some interesting points, but not all people are of faith just because they were brought up to believe so. Many people are raised in atheistic households and then become Christians from their own thoughts, observations, and readings. I understand that this is a personal testimony, though. So, I’m not discrediting your experience.

    • To reiterate what Kevrawlings has said here, my experience is the reverse of Zach’s. I grew up in a non-Christian home, declared myself a staunch atheist, but ended up finding meaning and coherence through the Bible, theology, prayer, etc. This points to the subjectivity of human experience.

      Generally speaking, we all have the same evidence, but we draw different conclusions from that evidence. Zach looks at the problem of evil and finds it incompatible with the American Christian understanding of God. I look at the problem of evil and believe that it is part of my God-given duty to alleviate it in whatever way I can. Zach looks at it and sees evidence for the nonexistence of God; I look at it and see evidence for the futility of Humanism on its own.

      Thanks for the testimony, Zach.

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