As a sophomore in high school I had been deeply involved in the evangelical scene. I went to church, bible studies, prayer groups. I even helped lead the worship services. When i first started going to church, it was really just a reason to be out of my house for a while. My mother had walked out on my sister and I a few years back, leaving us in the care of our alcoholic, narcissistic and neglectful father and I had been severely depressed since my freshman year of high school. Church was my safe haven, and after a while the messages started to sink in too. I really started to believe what was being taught. That I was here for god’s divine purpose. That god had put all these painful things in my life in order to mold me into the woman of god I was meant to be. Soon, I was attending bible studies, going to prayer meeting, participating in the worship services, volunteering with the youth groups and volunteering at homeless shelters, I joined an “accountability group” ( sort of like a support group to help you not to sin, you talked about what you moral things you struggled with and had to answer to each other each week about how you dealt with temptations) I ate, slept and breathed my bible, not only that but I had no problem telling you that you would be sentenced to a lifetime of hell if you did not repent of your sins and accept Christ as your lord and savior. Please know, I said these things not in anger, but out of sincere concern. I truly believed the people I encountered were lost souls who just needed a push in the right direction.
I think I buried myself in Christianity because it was the only thing in my life at that time that offered any sort of stability. I was coming from a broken home, having seen my mother suffer from a severe mental illness. My father was rarely present, and when he was, he provided an extremely inappropriate living environment. I was a loner at school and as I said before, I was severely depressed. Looking back on it now, I know that it was my Christian practices that kept me in a depressed and oppressed state. Along with providing me with some stability, it also provided me with immense guilt over the anger I felt towards my parents, immense guilt over “sins” I committed, guilt over simply being human…after a while the pressure of constant repentance became an even bigger burden that dealing with parental abandonment. After a while I would find myself thinking “ Really? God is angry with me over this?” I slowly started to withdraw from my never ending church related activities. I still went to services, but I stopped drinking the kool-aid, and once I did that, the religious fog I’d been drowning in began to dissipate. I started thinking for myself and I realized there was a lot of things Christianity supported, that I knew deep down in my heart of hearts was wrong. But still, I stayed, because it was all I had.My final moment of clarity came, oddly enough during a mission trip to India back in 2005. I was working in an orphanage for children who had been rescued out of child labor. We were supposed to do bible studies with them, teach them prayers, and help them “come to Christ.” It seemed like a good and well meaning idea at the time, but once I was actually there, witnessing poverty, neglect, starvation, and illness first hand, I felt like a complete asshole. These children did not need a book and a prayer. They needed a home, love, food, family and an education. On top of that we were only there for 10 days, giving us just enough time to capture their hearts and then crush them as they realize we would leave and never come back. The whole trip left a bad taste in my mouth so to speak. I never went back to church after that mission trip and I cut all ties with my religious life.I started to read books about the history behind religions, as well as books on evolution, the big bang and all that fun stuff. Richard Dawkins became a favorite on my bookshelf. The more I allowed myself to learn, the less sense religion made. It was like I had discovered the truth about Santa all over again.
Oddly enough, I found that once I stopped going to church, all the “temptations” I struggled with suddenly became a non issue. I stopped hating myself and I gave myself permission to enjoy things I really loved even though it may not have been “edifying to god.” I found myself a beautiful man and we’re currently living happily “in sin”. I think Christianity was something I needed at the time as a young, depressed girl with no support system, and it’s something I’m glad I grew out of.
