:::::sigh:::::
This is going to be really, really long. Please bear with me if it rambles.
As a child, I was raised pretty un-religiously, the son of a non-practicing Jewish father and a non-practicing Protestant mother. (One of the more generic Protestant sects, I don’t know which.) We had a couple of Bibles in the house, and when we were in the States we went to church on major holidays, but that was it. Like most American children, I had some general concept that “God” existed, somewhere “up there,” but that was about it.
When I was . . . let’s see, sophomore year in high school, so I was 14 or 15, a friend invited me to attend church with him. (An aside: this friend, Matt Rich, a wonderful person, died 5 years ago, ironically the victim of a lightning strike.) He was an attendee of St. James Episcopal Church in Painesville, OH. As Matt was my best friend, I took him up on the offer. Matt was very involved in church activities, attending youth conferences, senior person in the acolyte program, member of the choir, etc.
I really took to it, as much for the social benefits as anything else, but I had an inkling that there was some truth behind it. I also became very active, and attended a youth conference with Matt. The Episcopal youth movement, at least in the Ohio diocese, tends towards the charismatic-evangelical, as I bet Poly can attest. I really, really was excited by what I saw and felt. At my second conference, I answered an altar call and gave my life to Christ.
Following that, I really changed my lifestyle. I read the Bible more and more, tried to share God with my family and friends, attended training to become a Group Leader for youth events, and things like that. Eventually, though, I started pledging more of my time to other things in my life, and once I went off to college, I stopped attending.
My sophomore year in college, a number of crises hit at once. I was having serious problems at home, caught in a battle between my mother and my sister. I was blindsided by the breakup of a three-year relationship with a girl I loved deeply. I began skipping classes, drinking, partying, moping, and eventually flunked out. (I had graduated fifth in my high school class with a 3.8 GPA, and left college with a 1.7 cumulative, 0.6 for my last quarter.)
Just before I flunked out, I had met Leigh-Anne. We had begun dating, and talking and corresponding constantly. She was, and had been for about 7 years, a born-again Christian, and took every opportunity to share Christ with me. She loved me for me, but wanted me to be saved. And, seeing what Christ had wrought in her life, and the lives of those around her, I wanted to be saved. I was at absolute rock-bottom in my life. I truly believed that by rededicating my life to Jesus, he could make changes in my life.
So, one night, in tears, I went with her to her pastor’s house, and we prayed, for hours, the three of us, with other household members and friend in attendance and either praying with us or laying on hands.
And, let me tell you, I was on fire for the Lord, as much as Adam/Zion, or FriendofGod, or anyone else who has ever posted here. Daily and nightly praying, talking to God, doing work for God and the church, everything.
But there was something . . . wrong. Missing. Many times, I prayed for some of the Gifts of the Spirit to be made manifest in me, to bring me closer to God, and to make me a better witness and example of his work. And they never came. For a long time, I was able to say, “God simply has not seen fit to bless me with these outward gifts yet, and will in his own time.” Then, after a while, I prayed, “I know that envy and jealousy are sinful, Lord, but I see everyone else around me receiving the gifts of tongues, of interpretation, of healing–why have I received no gifts? What is wrong with me? What have I done to let you down?”
I kept attending, kept praying, kept witnessing, kept fellowshipping, and kept doubting–myself. My worth. My worthiness. I tried to teach myself Greek to read the NT in its original language (kudos to you, Lib–I do not pick up languages). I did everything I could to make myself worthy to receive God’s blessings and become a better servant.
Then, one day, I said to myself, “Wait–maybe there isn’t something wrong with me. Maybe, just maybe, there’s less here than meets the eye.” I asked myself, “Why do I believe this? On what basis? Why this, and not Judaism? Or Buddhism? Or Zeus-ism?” I started reading about the historical foundations of belief, about superstition, about the supernatural. About science, and skepticism, and experimentation and proof. About the history of the Bible and the events therein. About altered states of conciousness, and of the ability of schizophrenics and brain-damaged people to manifest the exact same glossolalia I had seen at church.
And, after all my reading, and thinking, and self-examination, the only conclusion that I could come to that jibed with everything I had absorbed, was that God was a creation of the human brain, and that what I had seen in church over the years had rational, non-supernatural explanations. I concluded that I had absolutely no basis for believing Christianity in particular over any other belief system, nor for believing that a god existed at all.
And that’s the conclusion I came to, and in the several (8 or so) years since, I have seen nothing that would change my mind. I’m not going to pretend I know for certain, any more than, ultimately, anyone else here knows. But on the basis of my experience, I am as certain as any of you that my conclusion is the correct one.
My wife’s journey, by the way, has been different, and I won’t presume to relate it to you. Suffice to say that she no longer believes Christianity to be true, nor, do I think, does she believe in the Judeo-Christian god. I don’t know for certain if she believes in an eternal soul or not. I don’t.
But that story you had related before (I think in the Atheist Relgion thread). Nevertheless, it will benefit people new since that time.
(<-Surgoshan, whose soul he has title to)