Christianity Unraveled

April 11th, 2020

My goodness, what a lengthy title. I tried to condense it, but it honestly speaks to what I am about to write about so I suppose I will leave it here.

Last Wednesday, I finally told my significant other about where I actually am at in my faith (or lack thereof). If I had the language to explain the difficulty of expressing those words out loud, I would try to write it down. However, my words were hardly sufficient to express my belief and feeling then, so I will allow that to simply be and instead write that it was truly one of the most difficult phrases I've ever had to verbalize:

"I think...currently....right now, I'm not in between not-faith and faith. I'm pretty sure I'm between agnosticism and atheism...."

"...That was the first time I've said that out loud to anyone...god, I hate how it's real."

I wish every person in the world could experience a love like I have found. His gracious, kind, and loving empathy that I always knew would be shown (and always is shown, I must add) when I finally mustered the resolve to say to him my thoughts was more than I could have ever hoped for.

I must admit that finally saying this out loud to someone sparked this desire to spread the news of my new 'faith' to my friends. It is as if a reversal of evangelism occurred; instead of converting to a religion and then feeling the need to let everyone know about it, I have fallen into the opposite of religion and yet still feel the need to share this part of my journey with others – a devangelizing of sorts. It feels as though verbalizing my probably false security of understanding that I no longer adhere to Christianity has released me into the wild and compelled me to shout to each person, "I don't believe in God anymore!" (Though, not too loudly as not to let those who I don't feel comfortable yet knowing my thoughts hear).

Why 'probably false security of understanding?' If you were to ask me a year ago if I had a security of understanding in respect to my belief, I undoubtedly would have answered with a resounding 'yes'. Obviously this is no longer the case, and perhaps in a year, or ten, or even two weeks my answer will be again different. And so, in the allowance of religion-fluidity, I must admit that the stance I have currently may not – and probably will not – be the same for the rest of my life. Even so, since my answer is more solid than its been for the past seven months, it still feels as though I want to finally announce this. Human crave certainty, and I am no exception. Speaking on this 'certainty' has given my life a new freedom that I never expected I could experience, and I must admit that with each time I tell another, I am more released to speak my thoughts. Vulnerability, though difficult to start, is like a drug; it becomes easier and more addicting each time. Perhaps I should consider what an over-dose of vulnerability will be like, but for now I am relishing in the release.

As I have been sharing my more-solidified beliefs with my friends and colleagues, I have found that people tend to respond in one of three ways. I'll describe them below and explain how each, in their turn, has made me think and feel.

The "doubting is good" answer

I've experienced this one quite often, especially from my Christian friends and advisers. It usually begins with an, "I'm actually glad to hear that you're doubting the faith. You know, without doubt, faith isn't even real. Also, the Bible describes how a lot of people also doubted Jesus, even the disciples!" *proceeds to pull up a few Bible verses about doubting Thomas, the doubters who even saw the resurrected Jesus, and a few good C.S. Lewis or John Piper quotes* "No matter how long it takes, I can feel that this season in your life is going to make a powerful testimony someday. We're all here for you."

At first glance and listen, it feels as though this is benign. However, the more I hear it, the more I hate it. Perhaps it's because of my annoyance of the frequency it is given, but I always feel put off when someone says this. Yes, I know that doubt is good. But also? It sucks. No amount of reassurance that I am following the grand Biblical characters will help my case, and I somehow highly doubt that my testimony will be anything like what you are hoping for. I know this feels harsh, but I honestly would suggest against saying words like these to someone who brings their deconstruction and vulnerable heart to you. In the end, it can feel invalidating and preachy.

2. The "But look at all this evidence for Christianity!" answer

While it doesn't happen as often, it does enough to warrant a response. Out of the three I'm writing about, this one is probably the most frustrating for me. I often hear arguments and points that people raise as I try to explain why I am having a difficult time believing Christianity anymore. I know that this is all in good intentions, but I honest to God do not want to hear about why God is both just and loving even though salvation is essentially based on the luck of the draw, how the Bible is factually being proven, how God has to allow us free will otherwise he isn't loving, and other such arguments. I've heard them all, and I understand them. Even so, here I am.

I understand the appeal, though. It must feel completely terrifying to hear a friend opening up about their doubts and lack of faith, and it is completely reasonable to want to give them reasons to hold on. However, this can actually damage the relationship – especially if you just try to 'fix' their problem as they are trying to let you know about their deeply vulnerable realization. If possible, try to refrain from any theology talks until a later date when they are wanting and desiring a theological discussion. It is incredibly important to realize that a person who is finally letting you know about where their deconstruction is leading them has probably wrestled with the theological topics you're presenting in a much deeper and extensive level and have rejected it with valid reasons, so bringing them up will not likely bring forth fruitful discussion. More likely, it will only breed frustration between the both of you.

3. The "I support you" answer

I must admit that this answer comes in various forms. Some people who respond in this way express their sadness but ultimate love for me that wins out. Some people ask how they can best support me in this time. Some tell me that they don't understand it, but that they are here for me regardless.

The best is when they tell me that they appreciate my vulnerability, but that my belief was never a factor in how much they loved and cared for me. That no matter what I end up believing (or not believing), they love me as a friend and nothing could change that. This truly is the best way to respond to someone, in most cases I would suppose. But for me, specifically, this is the most kind and loving answer. It allows space for connection and healing, a space that is most often left untouched in conversations such as these. I miss these spaces, the ones that we hardly have and yet crave deeply within our souls.