Why I Am No Longer Christian

Introduction, Part 1

There will inevitably be those of you who will claim I must not have been truly "saved" to begin with since I am no longer Christian. I understand why you might think that, and I don't resent you for it. After all, you are probably so entrenched in Christianity that you could never imagine giving it up. I know, because I've been there.

Though my parents are Christian, I didn't grow up in an overly religious household. My introduction to the more "serious" side of Christianity came in middle school. My best friend was a devout Christian girl: honest and compassionate, humble and modest, and a well-organized student. She was well-loved and had so much faith in God. (I also probably had a crush on her, but I didn't realize it until many years later.) At a time when everyone was struggling with puberty and the turmoil that comes with it, she was a beacon of calm amidst the storm.

I wanted to be just like her, but the only difference I could find between her and the rest of our peers was that she was a Christian. Not in the way that my parents were, but a "true" Christian. My friend went to church, youth group, and Bible study every week and volunteered at food banks and homeless shelters. She never got angry, never became distracted by worldly vices like cute boys, and never doubted God's plan for her life.

On the other hand, I was going through the normal side effects of puberty: mood swings; anger, annoyance, and disobedience towards my parents; a gradual sexual awakening; and trying to discover who I was. In comparison to my friend, I was the lowest of sinners. If I wanted to be as radiant as her, it seemed, I could only do it through Jesus Christ.

I was twelve when I accepted Jesus into my heart and felt the love of God wash over me for the first time. No longer did it matter that I was sinful and struggling under the weight of worldly desires; Jesus's sacrifice had baptized me in blood and forgiveness. Now I had the Holy Spirit to guide me. I was truly "born again." I was so relieved that wept on and off for the next few weeks and praised God for several hours a day. It seemed as though even the ground was not low enough to bow down in front of him when I lay prostrate on the floor during my nightly worship. The power of God left me in awe. And to think that people could turn away and even reject his existence entirely!

In order to bolster my faith, I began to study the Bible and read books such as God Girl: Becoming the Woman You're Meant to Be by Hayley DiMarco and the Left Behind series by Tim LaHaye and Jerry B. Jenkins. I pestered my parents to take me to church, but they weren't very enthusiastic. Instead, I went with my best friend or church-hopped with my grandmother, who had just moved into town. I even managed to squash a long-term crush of mine simply because the boy was an atheist. (After all, I needed a good Christian man for a husband, not an atheist!) I stopped cursing, dressed more modestly, and prayed 24/7. I had been transformed, and I knew there was no going back.

My religiosity waned slightly when my best friend moved to a different school, but it came back in full force when I made a new best friend. Once again, she was the definition of a good Christian girl (and once again, I had feelings for her that were not entirely platonic, of which I was unaware). She was kind, compassionate, and always put others' needs before her own. She was so earnest and convinced of the truth that I, too, became completely convinced. I knew now that lukewarm Christians were worse than nonbelievers in the eyes of God. I began to worry about the souls of my friends and family. Didn't they realize that if they didn't take God seriously, they would lose an eternity in heaven? How could they be so blind?

I worried, too, about my own soul. Was I enough of a Christian for God? Did I believe all the right things and pray all the right prayers? Surely God knew about the doubts that hid within me about biblical teachings on gender roles, sex, God's wrath, and the bloody stories of genocide and slavery. What if those doubts were enough to send me to hell?

But regardless of my questions, I was genuinely happy as a Christian. I couldn't imagine ever being or believing anything else. How could other people live fulfilling lives without God? I wondered on a daily basis. How could anyone get through the struggles of life without him and still be truly happy?

The beginning of my time at university marked the peak of my religiosity and fervor for God. I joined a campus worship group, a weekly Bible study, and a women's prayer group; went to church every week with the eagerness of a child in a candy store; and studied my Bible with seriousness. It was the closest I had ever been to God.

And that's when the doubts crept in.