Where I came from, part 2.

There's another effect that this self-guilt had. That this oh-so-christian "You're not good enough, you're a sinner, you deserve Hell, all good things are God's" did to me.

I'm a bit shy and quiet by nature ("until you know me." Really, some of my friends can't get me to shut up - or not throw a really bad pun out!) But I was already fearful of not being good enough for God. So early on, my interactions with the opposite sex were... not spectacular.

Now, every boy, to some extent, deals with rejection. It's part of growing up. Some can brush it off and say "hey, it was worth a shot, getting slapped by her is still attention!" For me? No. I already had this sense of not being good enough, not being worthy - so early on, I came to any potential happiness or relationship already rejected and expecting it. To the point where I Wouldn't even try.

Besides, if God wanted it, he'd have some obvious way of saying "Hey. Her. Go talk to her now, and she will be yours," right? Yes, that (and the mentality I had to be The Provider, The Decider, Stoic and Handling All - which is a LOT to put on a teen!) really didn't help.

I still remember the first girl I was... infatuated with. Carrie. Cute, smart, funny, curly red hair and freckles. Yeah, charlie Brown's "curly headed red-haired girl?" I had her in my class. Fifth grade. You know how big moments stick in your mind?  Here's mine:

Her, me, friend of hers, friend of mine. I *obviously* liked her. I'm fairly sure she was VERY aware of it. We're the only ones in the classoom - we're in instead of at recess for some reason.

My friend: "Well, do you like her?" She can her.

Me? "Yes." Immediate reaction - "You're not good enough. And she doesn't go to your church. This is wrong." And I, in my first big bonehead move with the opposite sex, with someone who probably likes me, add "As a friend."

Which I get right back. And kick myself for saying for years afterward.

Now, yes, part of that WAS we were fifth (maybe sixth) graders and these hormone things making us like the girls we thought were "icky" before were weird. I admit that. But my deeply ingrained Christian guilt also took my big declaration, which was frightening to say - "Yes, I like you!" - and threw it in my face and forced me to basically say "not that way. Be alone."

I was very aware of that guilt and of not wanting God's disapproval. After all, would she (weak girl she was... ugh, yes, I had that attitude! Even though I knew she was smart, fun, and clever - kind of the opposite of weak - cognitive dissonance is the religious person's friend!) eventually be my Delilah? Would she want to seduce and tempt me, maybe even want to 'do it' outside of marriage... never mind I didn't know what 'it' was, or how it would be done? No, best to not risk making God angry. I'll do it to myself before he has reason to, like a good Christian.

All of this fed on itself - not wanting more rejection, the sense of disapproval from God (yes, disapproval from a nonexistant being,) guilt - on top of just teenage reactions. I didn't know how to act. And on top of it, MORE disapproval kept me from doing what my peers did. I don't mean teenage sex - sure, therew as some of that going on - or drugs (we had our stoners like everyone else.) I mean just going out with friends. Going to a roller rink? Which, yes, was a big thing. Well, they played that satanic rock music there. And the roller thing was somehow sexual anyway - bad! Bad! Repress! Repress! Concerts? I didn't listen to rock music! And what teenager in the 80s wanted to go see Roy Clark with my parents? Or the Nutcracker? (Yes, I saw them both.) Parties? Well, I was already ostracizing myself from my peers, so who would invite me, and why would I go to these non-church parties where, I was told, there was sex, and drinking, and probably darker things like drug use going on?

Thing is, I didn't go to church parties either. Why? Mr. Pot (not the leafy kind) looked at Mr. Kettle (the pastor's son and the other kids in church) and thought they were boring and uptight. I don't think they had parties, actually. So I didn't bother getting to know them better and do stuff with them. (Besides, why would I want to spend more time around his father, Mr. Fire-and-brimstone, You're guilty sinner I should burn you now than I had to by listening to him Sunday?)

Of course, I was also cut out of other activities my age group enjoyed. Like, oh, Halloween. I used to trick or treat when I was little... but I still remember the yearly speech about how it was actually "the pagan holiday Sam-Haine" where "the Celtic god of death was worshipped," and witches, pagans and satanists captured and sacrificed children to Satan. Even getting candy gave Satan power! Oh, and (to give you more of an example of the utter crap I was shoveled, and believed wholeheartedly - because, after all, the pastor was God's chosen teacher for us, and he wouldn't be wrong or lie, would you mr. Brown?) why didn't this make the news? The media, the police and doctors were infiltrated! Yes, they had witches and satanists IN THEIR RANKS, rotting them from the inside and covering up these hundreds or thousands of missing kids! Abortions? Those done around Halloween were really sacrifices! There were more done around then! Don't let your kids dress up and go trick or treating!

Yeah. Bother looking this up? Nope. (Not that we had the internet then, but there were still public records that could be checked - that, if you'll notice, he put doubt on, because Public Authority Was Compromised.)

I'll touch on one other vivid memory of the attitudes pushed by that church. I don't remember the rest of that sermon, but I remember the pastor preaching about gays. He went to explaining what a fagot was (note, one G) - kindling, essentially, used to help start a fire. And declared in full on Preacher-speak that "We called them (the gays) faggots because we felt they were fit to be burned!"

Don't ask me how I came out of that being a believer in equal rights for everyone, gay, straight, any race, creed or color... maybe it was my love of history showing me what the lack of it did.

In any case, over time I started shedding some of this. I realized how shameful my attitude about Lennon was. I even got a (somewhat real) stereo - TWO tape decks AND a record player! - and played the heck out of Boston's Third Stage album. (As an aside... with today's CDs, I think people really miss out on grandiose, epic artwork.) I started listening to other music... and less and less Christian radio. I was introduced to Rush, Yes, the Moody Blues - and eventually introduced myself to Queensryche, all showing me rock wasn't what I was told, that it could be epic, grand and thoughtful. And getting me to play bass guitar...

But still the Christian guilt chewed at me inside.

I questioned. I researched. And... well, if you look at the flight tests of the F-22 Raptor, at one point you'll see one try to land and the computer go wonky, putting it into an oscillation... eventually destroying the airplane.

I started into a Christian Guilt oscillation as I tried to reconcile the doubts and logic I had with my Christian upbringing and guilt.

I would buy things - for instance, my interest in mythology and folklore (which, ironically, "didn't apply" to the bible... /sigh) dragged me over to White Wolf's Vampire and Werewolf RPGs. I spent money on these - not an insignificant amount. Never got around to playing them... because, in what I imagine to be similar to a manic/depressive's cycle in some ways (I don't know, honestly) I'd go from enjoying myself and really getting into the world, into guilting myself and - not selling, not giving away, but THROWING away hundreds of dollars of books. Just to re-buy them later when I realized how silly that was... then threw those away two years later.

Now, I don't blame Christianity for all my faults - late teens, early 20s, you do stupid stuff. And I can, I suppose, even say it kept me out of trouble - I never got to where I liked beer, never started driving drunk, and know I don't have kids somewhere I don't know about because I didn't screw around. However, when you're raised in the Cold War under a (real) tension between two superpowers that could, quite literally, clean life from the face of the planet (and the president calls the foe evil, and supports Israel) ... well, obviously the End Times were here! (Aren't they always?) Which didn't help the guilt.

But I can blame it for wasting money. And for keeping myself down, because I wasn't worthy. For the hate I was finally learning to shed. For keeping me from asking questions and going out and *getting* things instead of wasting time trying to figure out if it was "god's will" or not. For wasting time trying to figure out why I wasn't good enough for God to start rewarding me, despite tithing and doing what I should, despite fervent prayers, instead of kicking myself in the ass and saying "You want it, you need to do this, learn this, and GO for it."

Christian guilt is driving down the freeway with the parking brake locked. it really slows you down. The only difference is, if your brake is locked, the burning you're smelling is real, as opposed to the hell you're trying to guilt yourself and others away from.

So how did I start to escape?  Yes, spiritually journeying and trying to compromise... a path many ex-Christian Atheists will probably empathize with.

And we'll get to that next time. 

Welcome! And where I came from... part 1.

Very creative title for the first post, I'm aware. :)

You may have come here by a link, or by a search on atheists and atheism. One way or another, I hope you'll find useful information and amusing musings as this blog grows over time.

So what is this blog about?

Atheism, obviously. Specifically as it's experienced and thought about by me - and I remember to post. (With luck, that'll be at least every monday.) Atheists are a growing segment of American society - the USA being the most religious of the developed nations (and, along with that - and despite our fierce national pride - well back in the rankings for literacy, science knowledge, and public health and well being, but way up in incarcerations.) There's a number around 20% being thrown around - the problem with that number being that it's from a poll asking how people identify themselves, and as I recall, it's "nonreligious."

Which isn't the same as Atheist. That covers agnostic - those that believe in a vague "higher power" somewhere. Heck, that can cover those who are believers but don't go to church. For some time I'd probably have called myself a "non-religious baptist." I was raised baptist, and generally held to the tenets of it I had been raised in - salvation by accepting Christ, baptism after you reach an "age of reason" and can accept and understand it, public declaration of your faith followed by baptism by immersion, joining a church, no need for popes, bishops or other intermediaries and the like. So I would, for years, identify myself as "baptist" - but really didn't think I needed to head to church and listen to the same sermons and such. I had the bible... and, to be honest, didn't like the anger at others and at myself that the preachers I was used to planted in me.

So I would have said I'm baptist, but didn't need the trappings of religion. And I was happy with that for years. I'd occasionally drop into church (and had a few different "baptist" experiences. Yes, a southern baptist is far different from their bretheren in the midwest!)

I started doing something in my teenage years, though, that really breaks faith. I started questioning. And no, I didn't do it as teenage rebellion. See, my pastor was big on anti-rock, on Chick tracts (shudder) and more. I believed - fervently - that satanic priests secretly blessed rock music and concerts (you usually couldn't see them in the darkened halls.) I was, shamefully, HAPPY when John Lennon - who'd been pushed, to me, as an example of a high priest of satanism and worldliness, with his drugs, naked album covers, and (oh so threatening) peace, love and equality lyrics - was murdered. This is where religion had been pushing me. I was sure one of my friends - a mormon - was being deceived by Satan and going to go to hell. Never mind the Catholics, who were obviously the masses following the Whore of Babylon and all going to hell as well... do I sound like I'd have fit in perfectly well, if you'd given me a gun, in Northern Ireland? Or with Westboro? (No, that's not where I went.) Or in the various European wars between Protestants and Catholics, probably murdered by the Inquisition?

Yeah. I look back and that's freaking scary.

I listened to country music, mostly because it's what my mom played in the car. I didn't really pay attention to what they were singing about (some nice love songs and such, sure, but plenty of betrayal, drinking, sex and the like, too... just like rock.) When I finally got a radio of my own? Surprisingly, my parents gave me (the airplane nut) a "top gun" cassette. And a Chariots of Fire one - loved that movie. Fairly tame, for "rock." But still... and I listened, at night, to Focus on the Family, John MacArthur (usually went to sleep to his preaching) and... the guy whose name I can't recall, from the Crystal Cathedral. Yeah, I drank the Kool-aid in by the gallon.

Still, one of the books we had available to save us from this sinful draw of rock music was "Backwards masking unmasked," talking about how evil the Stones were, the Eagles, all the somewhat popular (I don't know if they were popular at the time, I didn't listen to rock music!) bands of the time. The other thing I had - and I don't know HOW I stayed religious given how much time I spent here! - was a wonderful public library. I love libraries. While other kids went to roller rinks (of course, pumping out rock music, evil!) and movies, I went to the library. I walked there in winter. The library was my second home.

One of the things they had were... LPs. Yes, actual vinyl. Now, let me note the Rolling Stones "Sticky Fingers" album cover - with jeans and an obvious zipper to unzip - didn't exactly dissuade me from this hyperfanatic view of rock music! But when I saw one or two of the albums mentioned as having backward masking, well, I had to find out how and where they said this stuff, and then show my friends to save them!

Can you see the problem?

Yeah. It wasn't there. No hidden messages, no matter how hard I listened. Yes, backward playback is (was) used in some albums, for guitars and other interesting sounds... but no "Smoke marijuana" or "Satan is God" or "Kill yourself" messages. No matter how I listened. No matter what speed or where. And I tried HARD to find it... I was told it was there, these people wouldn't LIE, would they?

Yeah, yeah they would. And they counted on people not testing what they said.

Here's the thing, though. Did I bring my questions to the pastor? Or to my parents? NO! Instead, I was burdened by guilt by nobody other than myself for daring to question!  I got down on my knees, sure God was going to see my doubt and say "Y'know, you question, you're due for a burning, boy!" and send me to hell or strike me down as I was walking to school, because, well, he did that sort of thing and it was his right! I begged forgiveness, quietly but fearfully, in the basement, away from everyone. (Which isn't as bad as it may sound, we did a lot in that basement - I had a section set aside for toys and, later, model building, Air Hockey and more - it was a nice basement, and cool in the summer.)

Yes. Questioning was not a good thing. Questioning was to be feared, especially if it touched on faith. Never mind that I read my Bible and saw things that didn't make sense - both in the sense of "If God is loving, how can he condone or order that?" (with the catchall "He's God, his word is all" answer/excuse,) and in the sense of flat out contradictions. Questioning. Was. Bad. How dare I doubt God?

So my questions sat inside me. And sat. And made me feel guilty beyond reason for having them. Which made me fearful for my life and "eternal soul." And, when bad things happened, well, I obviously deserved them. Why would God listen to my prayers for help when I questioned him? I had a debt of sin even after accepting Jesus! Yeah, I know, that's not really in the bible - but I believed it.

And so they sat. And festered. Until finally I had enough distance to start looking at them again.

We'll pick this up in part two.