I believed in God when I was very young, because my mother told me he was there, and why would she lie to me? I didn’t really buy into it, though. I clearly remember a couple of instances where I openly questioned inconsistencies in what I was being told.
Her dad died a couple of years before I was born, and her mother remarried to one of his college friends. My mom never liked the guy. Husband #2 then died when I was four or five. When I was maybe seven or eight years old, I asked my mom how the whole heaven thing would work out when my grandmother died, what with two husbands up there waiting for her. It was genuine curiosity on my part. She got mad at me, and I didn’t get an answer. Later in life I realized that she probably was caught off guard, and her anger probably came from not wanting to think that heaven would be anything other than her mother and father together for all eternity - she didn’t want to think about the second husband having any part of it.
I used to hate being dragged off to church every Sunday. I thought it was a complete waste of time. The weekend was only two days long, and here I was being forced to waste half of one of those days going to that stupid church. I also hated dressing up (which has never really changed), so it was a double-whammy. At some point before I was a teenager, I questioned why we had to go to church. If God supposedly knows everything and can read our minds, then he knows how we feel about him, so why do we need to go to church and prove it? And at the very least, why would he care how we dress? I believe the answer was something along the lines of “because that’s how it is, now get your butt in the car.”
(I’ve never really been sure where my father stands. He’s always gone to church, and so on. But I’ve always suspected he’s just been going along with the story for my mother’s sake. It’s not worth asking about.)
Anyway, once I got into my teenage years, I realized it was ok to think it was all a bunch of hooey. And, that Mom hadn’t deliberately been lying to me; she was telling me this stuff because she believed it to be true. There was no emotional anything about it; it was just a realization of the truth.