Why I Became an Atheist

Four months after I began it, I FINALLY finished this book! Thank you, John Loftus, for such an excellent book. Well written, well argued, and respectful to people of all beliefs. It was an incredible comfort to read a book like this written by someone who's been on both sides of religion.

But I wish...

I heard Julia Sweeney say the times in her life she grew the most were when she stopped believing what she wished were true, and just believed in what she knew was true.

A wise statement, applicable to faith in God and a lot of other things in life.

Thoughts on evil

So, I've finally gotten to the chapters in the John Loftus book about the problem of evil, and they are really well argued and well written.

Why is there evil? I was taught as a Christian that people were given free choice, so that they might love God freely, and thus not be, basically, robots or slaves. But there are at least a couple of problems with this, one being that our free choice can cause great harm which, to many rational people, might outweigh God's desire for people to love him.

God is supposed to be the be-all, end all. He is complete in and of himself, wholly knowledgeable, wholly powerful, and wholly good. How, then, could something that is completely absent any evil within himself, create something that could do evil? That is probably another question for another time, so I'll get to the next part, which Mr. Loftus discusses.

God is supposed to be our heavenly father, right? When you're a parent, you have to keep careful watch over your children. You start out by watching them every second, only allowing them to see and touch and do things that won't hurt them. You give them big, soft toys so that they won't hurt themselves or others. The example in the book goes something like this: if you gave a sharp knife to a 2 year old, would you not be culpable for how that child hurts himself or others? You knew that he would not be able to handle the responsibility of such a tool, and yet you gave it to him anyway.

God (to those who think he exists) is all knowing. He KNEW that if he gave that man over there a choice, he'd rape a little girl. He KNEW that if he gave that woman over there a choice, she'd abuse the elderly people in her care. He KNEW that if he gave those guys a choice, they'd kill thousands of people with a couple of airplanes. He knew these things, and yet, he let them make those choices anyway.

How is God's desire for our freely given love (DESIRE, not need, remember, because he is complete unto himself, and doesn't NEED anything) more important than all the pain and suffering that goes on every second in this world? Not only that, but in heaven, there is to be no more pain and suffering. The only way to avoid that, apparently, is to take away free will. He'd have to take away moral choices. If he can do that in heaven, why not on earth? Is this all just a big cruel game to him?

I have met some very selfish people in my life. But I don't think I've ever met anyone quite THAT selfish, and if I did, I'd wash my hands of them.

If he exists, that's not who I want to align myself with.

More later :)

The Problem of Prayer: Where My Search Began

I just got done reading the chapter on prayer in the "Why I Became an Atheist" book. It was one of the more interesting chapters to me because it really was where my search began. It was such a problem to me that I even brought it up to a therapist I saw years ago. I wanted to know why prayer seemed such an arbitrary thing - why is it some prayers got answered and some prayers didn't (or, in the minds of many Christians, why does God say "no" to some things). Her answer, predictibly, had to do with the level of faith of the intercessors. At the time I bought it because I so desperately wanted to keep believing, and it helped maintain my illusions.

But my doubts didn't stop. The problem of prayer and the problem of evil are two things that I find absolutely insurmountable in proving the veracity of Christianity, but for the sake of space, I'm just going to deal with the prayer thing here.

I have a 6 year old son, the youngest of 3 boys, who has never been quite well physically. Last year he was hospitalized a number of times; the first was for a video EEG to diagnose his epilepsy, and the others were for bowel cleanouts for his chronic constipation. He's been hospitalized several times since birth; we have such an extensive collection of hospital bracelets that I don't even keep them anymore. He was born with an enlarged kidney, a suspected exposed spinal cord (luckily it was not), but most importantly, a defect called imperforate anus, meaning the hole in his bottom was closed at birth. He had that fixed so that he could have bowel movements, but he's had problems with chronic constipation ever since.

I distinctly remember one of the faith-testing moments in caring for this particular digestive malady. He hadn't gone in well over a week. He was likely going to be hospitalized soon. I can't remember how old he was - possibly 3 or 4. And as I had done many, many times, I sat on the floor of the bathroom while he sat on the toilet, trying mightily to empty himself and be rid of the pain it was causing. And I sat there, alternately encouraging him and willing him to just go, and praying. And I thought, if God answered this prayer, would it hurt anyone else? Would it conflict with someone else's prayer? I couldn't see how it would, and I didn't understand why in the world he wouldn't help my little boy with such a simple thing. I prayed and prayed (and cried), and he sat and sat...and of course, nothing happened.

This is such a small and maybe to some, not even noteworthy, account of inaction by a supposedly benevolent and loving God. A mother cried out for her child to just feel comfort for a moment - not even a complete healing, just a temporary reprieve - and he either didn't care, or couldn't help, or simply would not help. And that is not the God I was taught existed.

I could give countless other examples, and I am sure many others could as well. George Carlin does a bit where he compares praying to Joe Pesci with praying to God and seeing what the success rate is (about 50/50 for each). Is that the kind of success rate you'd want from the Supreme Being?

It just isn't enough for me.

The Bible vs. Nature

I had a bit of time to read more of John Loftus' book, Why I Became an Atheist, this weekend.

I got to a rather interesting portion about Biblical events and science. He makes some very good points about the basic cause-and-effect stuff we see in the world around us, and about events being reasonable or unreasonable based on what we know of our environment.

Now, there are a lot of WEIRD accounts in the Bible - talking donkeys, pregnant virgins, blind guys seeing, shepherd staffs turning into snakes. And Christians tend to take these all as literally true because they believe the Bible is literally all true. The problem is this: if those same people were to hear of a similar thing happening NOW, they'd demand evidence. If your coworker said a cat told her not to get in her car that day because God spoke through said cat, and warned her of certain trouble, you'd think she was nuts.

I used to be a Christian so I can hear the argument now: "Well, that's just the way God worked then and it's not the way he does now." Well, to my knowledge, since the beginnings of written history and science, nature hasn't changed so much as to think animals will speak to us or inanimate objects will just float around in the sky. And, if most Christians were told that one of these Bible-style things happened, they'd demand some evidence.

So, why is that standard not applied to the Bible? Why is it so utterly believable, when many of the events are uncorroborated anywhere else?

Just thoughts to put out there...

Sorrow for the Other Side

Something I've been thinking about quite a bit lately, and which has been brought to the forefront of my mind by the comments of two blogging Christian friends, is the idea of being a little sad for people who don't believe like you do.

I will admit right now, I don't really keep in touch with my former church friends. After I'd stopped going, I did received a few phone calls here and there but honestly the talks were uncomfortable to me and so a bit stilted. I didn't have it in me to explain things very well, and so I didn't. I was also going through a divorce at the time, and it was just easier to use that as an excuse as to why I wasn't attending.

I know that there are probably believer friends of mine who are sad that I no longer believe. The reason I know this is that I used to be a believer, and I know the sorrow that accompanies loving someone who you think is in danger of eternal damnation. Even short of that, there is a sadness that nonbelievers don't know the love of God or the fellowship of a community of believers. It is a real, honest sorrow, and it can definitely go beyond (and be devoid of) simply being judgmental.

But, those of us who don't believe can have a bit of a sorrow for those who do believe as well. We have a sorrow that your life can be limited by rules that might not apply to you, and might not do you any good. We have a sorrow that there is a whole world of experience and science and philosophy that your leaders would prefer that you ignore. We have a sorrow that you're spending a lot of time and money and energy on something that isn't real.

I don't mean to say this to be offensive at all; as I have said, I've been on both sides of it. I know the feelings well. So, for those who are believers and feel a bit sad for those who aren't, remember, they might think that about you as well. And nonbelievers - same to you, er, ah, us.

Redefining

One of the things that happens when you change your entire belief system is that you have a lot of redefining to do. I was a devout Christian - I believed it all and lived it as best I could. Christianity was not just a place I went to on Sunday mornings, or a box I checked on some demographic survey. It was the framework for how I lived my life.

A major category within that was love. Now, I grew up in a loving family. I had good examples of love all around me, and so I had a idea of what it meant to treat people with love. But ultimately, when conflict arose as to just what love meant -- what "love would do" if you will -- I tried to rely on the Bible, specifically the "love" chapter in 1 Corinthians 13 (love is patient, love is kind, etc.).

Now, while I still think a lot of the description of love there is good and valid, it's not necessarily the be-all end-all of what defines love. I have learned that I have to define it for myself.

Recently I had a major conflict with someone I am very close to; in fact the conflict has not been resolved yet. Although part of me wants to respond in anger (and at times I did) I sort of gave myself a time-out to think about things more. And one of the major things I kept thinking was this: "How do I deal with this in the context of treating this person with love?"

You see, I don't need a god to tell me what love is. I don't need someone who went around smiting people all the time, and telling people how awful they were, as an example of how I should behave to people who I think have treated me unfairly. I think there has to be a better way.

Things like being patient and kind and humble are a good start. But the rest is left to me. I can define love, and what it means for how I treat people around me, in a way that doesn't follow a set of rigid guidelines from a book written by some guys who probably needed yet another way to control their wives.

It's not easy, but I'm trying. And I'm keeping that in the back of my mind as I express my thoughts and feelings to someone who's hurt me deeply - that I love this person, and it means something even without religion.