I wholeheartedly believed the Bible for 22 years. I attended Lutheran grade school, high school, and college, taught Sunday school, had an article published in the WELS magazine, went on mission trips, and was surrounded by smart, fun, kind, sincere Christians. But among them, I found myself something of an anomaly: I didn't like my faith. Let me share a little of my de-conversion story...
For years, I had doubts lingering in the back of my mind, but kept myself busy enough to avoid much reflection. I couldn't outrun my mind forever, though; it finally caught up with me in Guatemala. Biblically, I didn't know whether it was a good thing to confront my doubts. The Bible makes it pretty clear that having doubts is wrong (the stories of Zechariah and Thomas, James 1:6, Hebrews 11:1, etc). But mine were already there, and there was really nothing I could do about them but pray (roughly half of my prayers were, exhaustingly, along the lines of "I do believe, help me overcome my unbelief!"). I even prayed that some terrible tragedy befall me to bring me closer to God, but it never arrived. Having failed in these attempts, I tried taking the easy way out, ignoring the doubts - even choosing a Lutheran college that would make this possible - because I recognized that they might be strong enough to destroy my faith. That worked only for so long. Eventually, I gave into the temptation of doubting, knowing one of two outcomes would result, one being that I emerge with a stronger faith (I hoped and prayed for this), the other being, of course, what actually happened (and I'm glad it did).
My first doubt was based on Romans 15:13, "May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing."
Here was my main problem. Deep down, my faith didn't really bring me peace or joy. Of course, there were moments. Listening to Christian music, watching a sunrise from the summit of a volcano and thinking God caused it, or seeing heartwarming fruits of faith could bring a certain sense of joy. It might last a church service, a few days, or even months at a time. But it was based on emotion and it was fleeting. Whenever I took a step back and looked at the big picture, it was impossible to feel joyful about what I believed.
You, Christian friend, might respond: But why not, when God loves you so much that he sent Jesus to die for you and forgive your sins?
I always thought that, sure, God's sending Jesus was an incredible display of love and mercy, and I was truly grateful for the opportunity to spend an eternity in heaven someday. However, the Bible also mentions a place called hell, a place that is rarely mentioned in church outside the context of "Thanks God, for saving us from going there!" The reality, however, is that according to the Bible (Matthew 7:13), most people are going there. For eternity. This is something I had trouble wrapping my mind around. If I could have made a some kind of deal with God in which I could forfeit my spot in heaven, turning to nice, peaceful dust when I die, in order for some random unbeliever (even a really really bad one like Nero or Stalin) to have to spend only 622345873409823094857 billion years in hell instead of eternity, I would have done it in a heartbeat.
You, Christian friend, might respond: "God is loving, but he is also just, and hell is a just consequence for sin. Besides, it's not as if God wants anyone to go there. He sent Jesus for everyone and wants all men to be saved."
I never did comprehend how earthly sins could deserve eternal punishment. But assuming God's existence, who am I to say what is "just" and what isn't? So we'll say this is just and that if anyone goes to hell, it's entirely his own fault for rejecting God's free gift of salvation. You can say hell is necessary for justice in a sinful world, and I can't argue.
However, to the "flawed human mind" I was born with, it seemed that God had done something so terrible that it overshadowed his act of love in sending a Savior: he created the world. Don't get me wrong, the world is pretty cool and I'm happy to be alive in it, but taking a step back again, it doesn't make sense why God would create in the first place knowing where most of us would end up. Such an enormous problem, yet the Bible gives us only one little hint: He created it for his glory. I found this vague and baffling.
What glory, exactly, does the world bring God?
Is it... the majesty of nature and the awesome intricacies of the living things he created?
If so, why bother creating humans with the potential to fall into sin and make the world a less beautiful place? That is, why give us so-called free will? As a species, we would have been better off without it, and the natural world would have been far more glorious.
Perhaps then... "glory" refers to human praise and worship done out of love for God.
But God is perfect, lacks nothing, and has no deficiencies. So why would this small percentage of humans who worship and have a relationship with him be reason enough to create the world? Even if some humans bring God glory with their worship, it seems like the anger and sadness that unbelievers bring God with their sin and rejection should outweigh the satisfaction of being glorified.
Maybe... "glory" refers to an outworking of God's character, his goodness and grace, which the world was created to display (how my philosophy professor explained it to me).
But once again, look at the big picture. Many of God's creations will go to hell. Where is the goodness in this? Even Ecclesiastes 4:3 admits, "But better...is the one who has never been born." So, God created the world to display his grace in sending Jesus? For whom was the "display" intended, exactly?
Here's a pathetic attempt at literary device; it's subtle, but I think you can figure it out: Imagine you have unlimited time and brainpower to do anything you want. One option you're considering is cloning 100 pet monkeys. However, you know that if you do, 85 of them will end up thrown into a fiery pit of physical and mental monkey torture for eternity. Do you resist the urge to clone all 100 for the sake of the 85?
Or, do you go ahead and clone them, planting a magical banana tree with bananas that look tasty but are actually death bananas, then allowing a mean and evil snake who does the things he ought not do to tempt your new little pets into eating them? Do you allow your pet monkeys to reproduce, but alter their DNA so that each new monkey is born flawed, without so much as a chance to resist the magical bananas? Do you send yourself, in the form of a monkey, to die so that the special monkeys who happen to like you (despite not even having evidence you exist) can come praise you forever someday?
I'll go out on a limb here and guess you would choose not to (because cloning is a sin, duh). Anyway, congrats. You'd probably make a nicer god than the God of the Bible.
Moral of the story: to my flawed, human, (but "God-given") reason, the creation of the world looked like an act of selfishness, with such terrible consequences that it was impossible for me to praise the God responsible for it (praise freely given out of love that is, rather than worship out of obedience). And if I ever did feel momentarily happy about what the Bible says, I immediately felt selfish for liking it, because I knew I didn't deserve faith and salvation any more than the next person.
Another cause of consternation over my faith was the lack of equal opportunity with regard to destination. Predestination, if you were paying attention in religion class. Ephesians 1:4 says, "For he chose us in him before the creation of the world."
While admitting it's confusing, Christians often tout the doctrine of predestination as "comforting." I've never understood. I think the gist of what they're saying is, "Don't worry, the fact that you're here studying and believing the Bible shows that God has chosen you, so you'll remain in the faith during your life on earth and ultimately be with God in heaven." Sounds nice, but realistically, it's not as if people never fall away from the faith.
Besides, did God "choose" everyone? Well, I saw two possible ways to explain this:
(1) people chosen=those who have a relationship with him here on earth, or
(2) people chosen=those Jesus died for (i.e. everyone)
(2) people chosen=those Jesus died for (i.e. everyone)
Based on explanation 1, some Christians would still insist God chose everyone. I've heard it described like this: faith/salvation is a free gift (like a plant) from the Holy Spirit, given to all, and people can choose to either nurture the plant or let it die. But has God really chosen everyone? What about all the people murdered in the Old Testament who weren't fortunate enough to have been born into the nation of Israel? Rahab was the exception, not the rule. This is not fair, even if everyone were somehow exposed to the gospel at least once. Someone born an Israelite would stand a much higher chance of believing God's promise, than, say, an Amalekite. Just as someone born today into a WELS family would be more likely to believe the gospel than someone born to an Islamic family in the Middle East.
Calvinists, of course, would say that God did NOT choose everyone (double predestination). Although it coincides most closely with what we observe in the real world, it's easy to see why most sects of Christianity reject this. If God didn't choose all of his created beings to be saved, how could we ever praise Him for being just and loving?
If we define God's choosing by explanation 2, then saying, "God chose everyone" is merely paraphrasing John 3:16 and is, essentially, meaningless. Even being chosen by God does not guarantee that someone will come to know and believe in Him. Although Jesus' sacrifice was for the whole world, people born to Christian parents in Christian nations who are brought up hearing God's Word every day seem to have a distinctly unfair advantage when it comes to believing. Again, it's impossible to deny the link between religion and culture/upbringing: most people continue believing what they were raised believing. I don't know about you, but had I not been raised Christian, there's no way the Bible would have convinced me to convert. More people leave than join Christianity after reading the Bible, despite it being a "means of grace" and all.
There are many, many reasons to doubt Christianity. But honestly, I think hell is sufficient.
There are no profound thoughts here. Everything is common sense, but I get it: when you've been raised in a bubble, your life is fantastic, and almost everyone you know and genuinely admire is Christian, there seems to be more to lose than to gain by stopping to question your beliefs. Pascal's wager, what will family and friends think, and all that.
Please don't be afraid to rethink your faith. Confront your own personal doubts, whether they be philosophical, scientific, biblical, or historical. Read, think, repeat. For a while, I thought Christianity was harmless, or even beneficial to those who need a source of comfort in their lives. But recently, I've noticed something else. Since Christians believe this earth is only temporary, but eternity is forever, they tend to be relatively unambitious when it comes to such things as caring about the world, protecting the environment, or innovating for the future. It's only logical that they focus most of their energies on spreading the gospel, standing firm in the faith, and encouraging their friends to do the same. Now I look at all the devout, intelligent Christians I've grown up with and can't help but think of how much good their intensity could do if redirected.
Oh! There's one more thing that may have prompted me to evaluate my doubts. Even as a Christian, long before I had heard terminology like "opportunity cost" and "utilitarianism," my brain was wired that way, and I had this sort of Christian version of effective altruism. I looked at the world, believing most people were headed for hell, and wanted to share the gospel with as many as possible. Some suggested I become a missionary, but while less appealing, it made far more sense to me to become a high profile doctor or lawyer and donate 90% of my income to fund a dozen or so other missionaries. Perhaps this idea was partially responsible for my eventual faith-questioning, because when you're preparing to sacrifice your whole life for something, you better be sure you believe it.
So, I guess my point here is also echoed in the Bible: don't be lukewarm! If you honestly believe the Bible is true, then step back, look at the big picture, and realize that this life is not even a speck in the grand scheme of eternity. Look at the world around you. You truly believe most people are going to hell forever, right? Doesn't that make you want to spend every single waking minute of this not-even-a-speck-of-a-life in outreach and prayer, in the hope that some eternal good will result? Because it should. You might question why an atheist would promote piety, but here's my (perhaps overly optimistic) theory: the more passionate you are about something, the more you'll think about it, and (hopefully) the more you actively think about Christianity, the more you'll realize how absurd it really is.
Anyway, please feel free to comment or send me a facebook message with any thoughts or questions, especially if you are questioning your own faith and need a sympathetic ear.
Even concern for my spiritual welfare is appreciated. Some atheists are annoyed when Christian friends offer to pray for them, but having spent so long as a Christian myself, I wouldn't feel patronized. Actually, I would be more annoyed if you, my Christian friends who must now truly believe that I am on the broad road that leads to destruction, kept playing sports and watching movies and going about your lives without bothering to pray for me. Not that it will do any good, though. You might say God has "hardened my heart" already. (Didn't that heart-hardening stuff in Exodus ever trouble you?)
