Well, over the last couple of weeks I’ve been making a serious effort to ‘come out’ as an atheist. Granted, my status on myspace and whatnot has said ‘atheist’ for ‘religion’ for years now (prior to that I was agnostic, so there was absolutely no response to that change.)  But back to the present (or at least recent past) when I told my mother (A Universalist Unitarian) she was unsurprised and mentioned that many of the people at her congregation (I hesitate to call it a ‘church’, because of the negative connotation that bears) were also atheist. Again, no drama, no negativity. When I mentioned it to my father, (a retired Navy Captain) I did so by saying “I think my own atheism stems from my childhood appreciation of nature, all the outings, and the David Attenborough documentaries that I loved so much.” His response was “I like the documentaries too. I wouldn’t say I loved them, but I definitely enjoyed them.” I should perhaps, mention that my father, although a successful navy officer of 30 years, was known to be somewhat of a loose cannon, even going so far as to tell the captain of his ship (when he was XO) that the ship was ‘godless’, and when I asked him whether he was indeed Atheist, (because of his intense dislike of Christianity) he said no, he’s more of an Agnostic. Either way, he has the same dim view of organized religion as do I, and he seemed quite cheerful for the rest of that conversation (which I take to mean that he approves.) The only negative responses I’ve gotten (aside from some random fundamentalist on Tagged who got pissed when I responded to her ‘Jesus saves’ tags with a quote by Thomas Jefferson on how Christianity was the most perverted system.) were from my GF and her daughter. My GF (a Wiccan) was just annoyed because I’ve been very noisy about the whole affair, and she does, after all believe in a supreme being, the afterlife and magic, and I embrace the concept of ultimate mortality and reject the supernatural, and was kinda going on about that. The daughter was just annoyed because I’ve been noisy and I’m dating her mom. Which brings me to the ultimate reason that I’ve gotten very little in the way of response: I don’t have christian friends. (except maybe my sister) Most of my friends are Wiccan, and really don’t care that I don’t share their faith, as long as I don’t try to preach lack of faith to them. Of the rest of my friends and family, well, my best friend is Buddhist, and again, doesn’t really care, my youngest sister is agnostic, and the older of my sisters, (still younger than me) while nominally still christian, (she became so while dating a fundamentalist christian in high school) hasn’t been to church in years, and with the lack of a support structure (and in the light of her own substantial intelligence, and the sceptical view of the rest of us), her faith has withered. She never, however, was dogmatic (My father would’ve responded pretty harshly to that) and was in a much better position to understand what an atheist or agnostic REALLY is.

Anyways, that’s my story.  I guess I kinda drifted away from it. Anyways, now I’m gonna go order some shirts and hats and wear them around town (including to the local walmart) and see what happens. It’ll be an adventure, ’cause I live in Pahrump, NV (a particularly odious little hick-town).

I have been an “out of the closet”, publicly avowed atheist for many years. But I didn’t start that way. Being Southern I was raised, as most people are down here, as an evangelical Christian – my particular flavor was Southern Baptist. I even attended a Christian school for 2.5 years (middle of 5th grade through 7th grade). One of the important tenets of Southern Baptists, and Christians in general, is the concept of a “testimonial” – an explanation of your faith and how you came to be a Christian. You are encouraged to share your testimonial as a part of “witnessing” to others in order to tell them about Jesus and (hopefully) “save” them.

I began to think about this, and realized that everyone – all of us – have a “testimonial”. We all have a story of how we have come to believe the way we do. Some of us are still on the journey, and our testimonial isn’t complete yet; while others amongst us are strong in our beliefs and convictions and, with the exception of some minor revisions along the way, our testimonials are pretty much complete.

Now I don’t know about you, but I love to hear the testimonials of others – how, and more importantly why, people believe the way they do. I find these stories fascinating, and I have also found that often our stories are more alike than dissimilar, and the most fascinating part is how we can have common stories that wind up in such different places.

This blog has been a place of open, civil discourse even about the most controversial of topics – and this is something I have come to love. I thought it would be an interesting topic to provide a place for others to share their testimonials – their stories of the journeys to their current state of belief – without the fear of persecution. I would love to read your stories, and I think others would be interested as well. The only rules are that the discourse must remain civil, and while I encourage the asking of questions I will shut down any personal attacks immediately (I don’t think it will happen, but I want to state that up front just in case). So, let me begin, and then you can share.

As I stated earlier I was raised as a Christian, a Southern Baptist. My mom is actually pretty accepting of other beliefs, but I was more influenced early on by the family of my step mom. She’s the one that paid for me and my step sisters (at the time) to attend Forrest Hills Christian Academy. At that time I really “got into” being a part of this school and church. I manned a “prayer line” at times, I attended mission trips, I went to visitation, prayer service, and Sunday services. I was a model young Southern Baptist.

But during this time I began to have a nagging questioning voice in the back of my head. The more I got into my activities the more I began to question why we did what we did. I kept suppressing this inner doubt, and talked to ministers about it, but I still had doubts.

In 8th grade I began a search on my own for my own answers. I spent hours in the library (remember, this was in the 1970s, the internet really wasn’t available as a tool back then) researching the history of Christianity, and reading the beliefs and histories of other religions. The more I read, the more enlightened I became. Then when I was 15 I decided to give religion and faith one more chance. My friends and I would go each weekend to a different church/temple/synagogue to explore the rituals and services of others, experience first-hand the people in the church, and try to discover, first-hand, which place – if any – felt “right”.

I continued my reading and studying, and my discussions with my friends, and around 16 I finally realized the truth – I am an atheist. I was still enthralled with the histories of religions, but I realized that I was more interested in those histories – the “why” people came to their beliefs – than I was in the religion itself as a path to enlightenment. The moment I finally admitted to myself that I was an atheist I felt that this was the “right” answer for me – I felt I was being honest with myself, and that this was who I was.

Some of my friends became more, shall we say, “aggressive” in their atheism – the lashed out at other faiths, specifically Christianity, and I felt that wasn’t right either. I told them that just because we don’t believe doesn’t mean that others shouldn’t believe – and that everyone had to find their own answers to what makes sense for them, and what makes them feel complete. I must admit though that I did feel some animosity towards some specific churches – there was one called Chapel Hill Harvester that was very aggressive in their recruitment of teens at my school, and they (I believe) brainwashed the teens into blindly following them in lockstep. They convinced a couple of my friends into burning their rock-n-roll records and Dungeons & Dragons books (one of my friends finally realized this was silly, and is now an atheist as well), and I felt that this place was a harmful place that taught hatred and not thinking for yourself over an exploration of faith. Incidentally the leaders of this church have been brought up on charges for various things over the years (Bishop Earl Paulk and his brother, to name a couple).

So, I spent my late teen and early adulthood as an atheist. I continued to read up on religious history, mainly Christianity, but I didn’t attend any services or anything like that. Years later after I was married and had kids my wife and I realized that we needed to find someplace for us to attend. Why? Because we’re still in the Deep South, and down here the second question you’re asked is “what church do you attend?” after “What’s your name?” Those who answer “I don’t attend church” are often subjected to witnessing, aggressive questioning, etc. During our search for a church we could attend without feeling like hypocrites we found Unitarian Universalism. UU is a place where we can be whom we are, without feeling like hypocrites. UU is a place where our kids can learn about other religions objectively, and can have a sense of community as well.

So now I am a Unitarian Universalist, and an atheist. I even taught Sunday school as an open atheist, because that’s acceptable as a UU. I am comfortable with who I am, and I feel that we are teaching our kids to respect other religions, to explore and learn on their own, and to find answers for themselves – and that their answers may be different than mine, and that’s ok too. My kids have a healthy respect for other religions, and they understand what most of the other religions believe – so when they are exposed to it in school or with friends, it isn’t “new” to them.

I also defend my Christian friends, quite aggressively, against others who attack them. Why? Because as a UU and a human being I believe that we all have the inherent right to explore our own path, find out own answers, and be able to believe as is right for us without fear of being attacked. And to this day the only time I have a problem with anyone is when they try to force their beliefs upon me and my family – and luckily the Christians I know agree with me that this is NOT the right way to do things.

And before you ask, yes I associate with many Christians (almost impossible not to in the US, ya know?) – and they all know I am an atheist. What I find is that all of the Christians I count as close friends have one thing in common – they hold a deep respect for the beliefs of others, and they all “live their faith” – they are all living testimonials to their faith, and their lives are good examples of what their beliefs are – they live their beliefs. Devin “Spanky” Olson is an example of this that you may know. Also one of my closest friends that I hang with locally is a devout Christian who listens only to Christian radio, is very involved in his church, and who really does live his faith. We have great discussions, and we have learned a lot from each other – and I believe he has a newfound respect for me as an atheist because I have shown him that you can be a “good”, “just”, and “moral” person without having a belief in a deity. I believe we are each better people because of our personal friendship, and the friendship of our families.

My earliest religious memory is a picture in the Catholic Baltimore Catechism showing three bottles of milk to explain sin and the state of grace. There was a black bottle of milk to show the result of mortal sins, a grey bottle for venial sins and a bright white bottle for being in a state of grace. The bottles were your soul.

Although I was only 7, I identified with the black bottle of milk because I had the feeling I was bad and had been punished by god who caused me to have polio and wear a brace.

I think I must have come to that thought because I was told that if I was bad, god would punish me, and since there was no one else in my school or family who had been “cursed with polio”, I must be bad.

I was made to feel like an outsider because of my leg. In actuality, I had a very slight case compared to those who were totally paralyzed or in iron lungs. I was actually able to run, after a fashion, but not fast enough not to be overlooked for competitive games, or chosen last just to keep the sides even.

There was plenty of cruel name calling and bullying for the ensuing years of elementary school to the point where I even dreaded recess because that was when it was the worst. I gained my full height early in life so now I was fighting a lot because what better target than the big kid who could not catch them when they would play a frustrating game of hit and run. These were not just one-on-one fights either. I found my best defense was to but my back to a wall to have only one front to defend. I would occasionally be able to grab an assailant by the arm or trip one running away and then give better than I got. I remember being on top of one of worst bullies and beating him to the point he had to go home, but I was the one doing the crying.

Never once were any of those bullies at my catholic school ever punished by the nuns (or for that matter, god) for what they did to me.

Once, a nun told me that I would not need to help myself up from a genuflection, while training to be an altar boy, if god really wanted me to serve at Mass. I quit that day.

That catholic school experience helped to make me an atheist. Now, at the age of 60, I am thankful for that help to see the truth.

I fortunately went to a public high school and had some surgeries that removed the need for the brace. The limp was only marginal and my height and strength made up for my lack of speed, hitting home runs but rarely beating out a single.

I was interested in science, the one subject the nuns had not turned me off on because science was not on the curriculum at all. I became a biologist and embraced evolution for my explanation for life, but not wanting to be an outsider again, I kept my agnosticism, that grew to atheism, to myself. I would go to weddings and funerals in a church even though; I actually shook inside and out as I would walk through the church doors. I would go through the motions, standing, sitting, kneeling but without praying, all the while watching the clock for the moment I could get out of there.

When I married, I gave into my wife’s request for a church wedding by consenting to one at the Universalist Unitarian church, which I never attended, just because I was told even atheists were welcome.

We raised our daughter without any mention of god, but in her twenties she became a believer from the influence of her friends. I hope she will accept my truth some day.

Just a few years ago, I found an atheist group meeting in a UU church and went to a few meetings but found them unsatisfactory. They resemble a church meeting. There is one person who runs the meeting, like a priest. The donation plate is passed. Cookies and fruit punch (bread and wine) are shared. The worst thing about the meetings is that more religion is discussed than most church services, although it is discussed so it can be argued against.

I would rather find out more about the good things that are in your life as an atheist than the bad things that are in your life as a believer. I would also like to become more active as an atheist than the intellectual ambiance that hangs over the meetings with people trying to impress others with how much they have read in the bible that is in conflict. Why waste time discussing something so worthless to an atheist?

I would be the happiest if I could go for at least a year without hearing the word god. I have been fighting a battle with myself to even get god out of my cursing vocabulary, but a simple hammer to the thumb gives god some free advertising I don’t want to give. Old habits die hard.

I am presently trying to get as many people as possible to view the excellent video“The Root of All Evil?” on You Tube. I have just started approaching some public television and some cable stations to broadcast the video. Wish me luck and write in yourselves!

I was not raised religious. My family’s religious background is Unitarian Universalist, a faith that I truly respect for its inclusiveness and beautiful message of peace, as well as its uniqueness among Judeo-Christian sects in its adherence to the message it espouses. Its focus is not on Jesus or God, but on general respect for life through friendship, love, and charity. I grew up with not a Bible, but a thin guidebook containing messages of morality. God was never mentioned in my house until my younger sister and I heard about him from neighbors and friends. When I inquired about it, my mother told me that ‘God is the light in our hearts that shows us how to be good people.’ Had my best friend growing up not been a stalwart Christian, I doubt I would have even heard that.

I grew up loving science: exploring the woods behind my house, looking up at the night sky, and knowing the Latin name of every dinosaur. I knew what a quark was before I could write in cursive, and religious explanations for natural phenomena never passed through my mind.

I never really thought of my views as different from the norm until the fourth grade. I was doing group work with two classmates of mine, Delonte and Karla (who was, incidentally, my first crush; I remember being ecstatic when at her 7th birthday party – Power Rangers theme – she went as the yellow ranger – I was the blue ranger, and the blue ranger was always getting the Asian tang on the show, but I digress;) when somehow the origin of the universe came up in discussion. Delonte asked me how I thought the universe was created. I told him that there was no definitive answer, but many scientists thought that there was a “big bang” that had shot out lots of energy which became matter.

Being in fourth grade, I didn’t quite know the details of string theory, but if I had, I wouldn’t have been able to explain them, because Delonte proceeded to ask Karla.

“God made it!” she said confidently.

“That’s right!” Delonte replied. “Damn, Mikey, I thought you were smart…”

I was harassed for the rest of the day by the numerous students who Delonte found who shared his knowledge of the irrefutable truth. Come get the smart kid, he doesn’t have the answer this time! We do! Our parents told us the explanation simple enough for a child to fully understand.

I remember coming home and crying to my mother about it. How did I not know about this God. How did I lack the certainty that all the other kids had? And WHY would a loving God send his believers to attack another child for his lack of indoctrination?

But I knew why. I’d always known why but had thought only in uncertain terms. Not anymore. I said it to myself in bed that night: There is no God.

I can only thank my parents for supporting me and not brainwashing me as a child, allowing me to think freely and come to my own conclusions about the world around me.

Thinking back to this story I always recall a quote by Jonathan Swift, a quote that inspired the title of one of my favorite books:

“When a true genius appears, you can know him by this sign: that all the dunces are in a confederacy against him.”

I never went looking to become an atheist. I went to a Christian and Missionary Alliance church in St. Pete., Florida from as early as I could remember, singing “Jesus Loves the Little Children, All the Children of the World, Red and Yellow Black and White, They are Precious in His Sight…” While I am glad the song helped make me non-bigoted, now I realize it was a call for us to send missionaries all over the world and CONVERT these little children, whether they needed it or not. We’d tiptoe past the big church” where the grownups sang songs like “How Great Thou Art.” It was the late fifties and I wore dresses every week – I was shocked once that a girl wore a skirt and blouse instead of a dress. In the summer I loved the arts and crafts part of Vacation Bible School.

The first flash of light came when I was looking at a plaque on a bedroom wall in my house, saying “Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ and Thou Shalt Be Saved.” BELIEVE? BELIEVE? I was about seven, and had thought everything told me in Sunday School was FACT. Things seemed less certain.

I kept going to Sunday School, to keep my mother happy. Then came a Sunday School evening taffy pull, when I was nine. The teacher boiled up the taffy mix and we got to take turns pulling it. Things got weird; I don’t remember exactly what the teacher did, but she must have set this up – we had never been taught anything anti-Catholic, only vaguely knew who the Pope was, and certainly didn’t know anything about ring-kissing. The group of kids dressed one boy up as the Pope and put him on a “throne.” I was blindfolded and told to kiss his ring. I bent over an d kissed it, and everyone screamed with laughter. I pulled off the blindfold and found out he was wearing the ring on his toe. I just melted into the crowd and didn’t say anything, but I never felt safe again – my feeling was why did they pick ME, who never said anything skeptical or bad. I never attended that church again, and some of the kids, who went to my school, never asked me why I quit. I think they knew.

I found Isaac Asimov and watched science and nature shows on television. I decided I was an atheist, and stopped saying the “under God” part of the Pledge of Allegiance. I remember a Jehovah’s Witness boy in our class who would stand each day, like he was in front of a firing squad, and NOT say a word of the pledge. Everyone left him alone – I think they were afraid he would try to convert them if they even talked to him. To this day I have respect for the Jehovah’s Witnesses, partly because they gave ME, the closeted atheist, cover. My other little joke was, when we were FORCED to recite the Lord’s Prayer, I’d say under my breath, “My father, who AIN’T in heaven.” To this day I would fight any forced prayer in school. It’s intimidation. I read the entire Bible, like I read the Iliad and the Odyssey, as classic mythological fiction, but I wouldn’t have dreamed of publicly arguing for atheism. I was too young, I didn’t have any skeptical framework, and it was too dangerous to argue about the contradictions of scripture.

Our next door neighbor, a year older than me, knew I didn’t go to church and, obeying the commandment to haul in lost souls, dragged me to Southern Baptist church a few times. It was so colorless and preachy I couldn’t get into it. She also got me to go to “Pioneer Girls” weekly meetings at a nearby Methodist Church where we did rugged things like make frilly aprons. I remember being shocked by the painting of Jesus in the church hallway, because in previous churches it was one of the Ten Commandments to have no “graven images.” Somehow I babbled some excuses and escaped these outings without having to declare “I am an Atheist.” I found out decades later that this girl’s father had an affair with his wife’s brother’s wife, who lived next door, and this produced a boy. So my friend was half-sister and first cousin to the same boy, yet her family was so snobby about being tight with God.

In home economics at age fifteen, I got cornered. My four or five girl partners in cooking class would take turns saying a prayer, and finally it was my turn. I remember the triumphant glare one girl gave me. Out of sheer fear, I closed my eyes and said the only prayer I could remember “God is great; God is good, now we thank you for our food.” And then I never had to pray again. I was racked with guilt and shame over being such a coward and betraying my own integrity.

At 15, I went into an eclectic phase. I took up yoga and astrology, which worried my mother, though I had perfect grades and no vices, so she mostly left me alone.

My mother started getting depression when I was sixteen, so to cheer her up, on Mother’s Day, I started going to an Assembly of God church. It was growing rapidly from a few hundred to HUGE. I sang in the choir with bemused enjoyment, like I was an anthropologist. The choir director was the pastor’s wife, blonde and perfect. Once while in the choir the person next to me started breathing wildly, then leapt to her feet and spoke in tongues. The pastor stopped his sermon and everyone watched, rapt. She finished and slumped back into her chair, while congregation voices said “Praise God,” and “Thank You, Jesus.” I went to teen Sunday School classes in my little dresses, my two main memories being a gory description of the crucifixion, and being embarrassed that I’d forgotten to save my legs. On a church outing to a go-kart park, we were in a great mood on the bus ride home. I watched wide-eyed as the two youth leaders did side-splitting impersonations of the pastor and his wife, and they showed us how you could sing “Amazing Grace” (Which was THE song of that congregation) to the tune of “House of the Rising Sun,” and vice versa I got to see a wild fundraiser where the pastor gave an electrifying sermon and then people jumped up to give THOUSANDS for a new sanctuary. As I left (with relief) for college, a new sanctuary was rising, and the pastor was found guilty of adultery. The place is now a mega-church.

In college I continued with yoga and tried transcendental meditation and tai chi. I still like them for the physical benefits. After college I started reading New Age Journal and even believed in that old fraud, Yuri Geller.

When I had children I felt compelled to take them to the closest church, an Episcopalian. I was enchanted by the ritual and the music, and the hands-off attitude that as long as you did the ritual, nobody was going to get into your face about what you really believed. I had both of my children baptized, figuring it would save them having to undergo the intrusion of an adult baptism if they married someone who cared about such thing. I thought being a Christian was still a worthwhile thing even if I had trouble with faith. I felt second class in the church, because my husband refused to go, and I couldn’t contribute much money. I contributed by teaching Sunday School, and had lots of arts-and-crafts projects for the kids – the kind I loved when I was a kid. I became resentful when some of the parents would NEVER teach Sunday school because they were “too shy,” as the religious education director put it. The real reason seemed to be because they were big contributors and they felt it was somebody else’s job to do lowly things like teach. The first grade boys especially were a difficult handful, and I didn’t like being alone every week, but at least the five-year-olds and up got to spend a few Sundays inside the big church which gave me a break. Each week we’d take the kids to a children’s chapel for a little service and try to keep the boys from crawling under the pews and laughing. I also didn’t like overhearing one of the teachers stressing how it was the Jews who crucified Jesus. The last year I was there, I taught four-year-olds, who never had a Sunday when they went straight into the big church, so I taught every Sunday from September to June with no help and no Sundays off. I only got to meet the equally overworked Sunday School teacher moms (there NEVER were dads) from other grades. I felt socially shut off from the rich moms and non-parents who of course could network all they wanted in the big church. Once a year I was able to lead the four year olds into the big church, on Palm Sunday, with all the children proceed behind a big pretty cross. I led my little lambs, waving palms as the congregation sang “All honour power and glory, to thee Redeemer King,” and felt a bit of acknowledgment. It wasn’t enough.

The final shaft of light hit when I read a book called “Orpheus,” an old skeptical history of religion, which pointed out that Jesus was only known to one historian of his era, as a leader of a rebellion, and that even Josephus wasn’t telling the whole truth. I then realized I just wasn’t ANY kind of Christian anymore. I moved to a Unitarian Church, which finally felt like home, since atheists go there happily. Even my husband was willing to go, and my kids were happy there. Every parent had to help teach, so I got lots of Sundays free to go the the big church and enjoy the sermon and fellowship. When I did teach, I had a second teacher in the room. The kids were much better behaved than in the Episcopalian Sunday School. Nobody ever laughed out of turn, or jumped up or crawled under the seats in Unitarian children’s chapel. We got to teach comparative religion, where when the kids ask why the Hindu’s don’t eat beef, I’d ask the kids questions like why don’t Americans eat horse meat, while the French do? I felt really free and enjoyed all the kid’s fund-raisers for Heifer Project, cleaning homeless shelters, and other worthy causes.

The public library in my town finally subscribed to “Skeptic” magazine, and it knocked my socks off. Finally, I could get back to my early love, science, and just leave the whole “supernatural” stuff behind entirely. We moved west, and I stopped going to church entirely. Now I read skeptic sites and science, always science.

My brother joined Scientology in the 1970’s and is still in there. He disconnected from my mother and sister and then recently disconnected from me, probably because I wouldn’t break off from my own mother and sister. His daughter is an underpaid middle manager in the Church of Scientology and looks twenty years older than her real age. The ideas and insights of skeptics have helped me focus my thoughts as I frequently post anonymously to anti-Scientology sites like www.xenu.net.

I utterly respect the solitary soul-searching that goes on in pre-teens and teens, and that often leads to atheism. The Alliance Church children sang “The Wise Man Built His House Upon a Rock.” This impressed me to choose house sites carefully, but also to found my arguments on fact, not mush. I want schools and parents to respect the search for natural truth, and not treat children as blank slates that will believe if you stuff more and more and more dogma down their throats, and if you forever protect them from any skeptical knowledge. I was never looking for skepticism when the shafts of light hit me. I found doubt with that first plaque that said “Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ” that really started me saying, “Why do I have to BELIEVE?” The contradictions of religion just CREATE millions like me, young people who learn to doubt all by themselves. Like sunlight, the shafts of light FIND THEM.