sent in by Diogenes I was raised Catholic, attended parochial schools through high school. I had a joyful and normal childhood, and still appreciate some of the traditions and trappings of my upbringing and the good education I received. When I was 16, my brother became a born-again Xian. He was influenced by a man he worked with, whom I never met, and that man, I found out, would later end up in a mental institution. As a kid I always looked up to him, so I listened to him when he would spout this new-fangled stuff in our home. My parents at first, were resistant, but then, to keep the peace, would attend and let me attend these "born-again" meetings with singing and clapping and preaching. I attended at first for curiosity, then for interest, and then because of peer pressure. I once made an altar call, and still don’t remember why I did, maybe to get him off my back. I was a good athlete in high school, but my attention was diverted to thoughts of

sent in by Jennifer My mother changes religions the way a restless lover changes relationships. "This church is dry and stale" she inevitably exclaims. "But this other church, this one is alive!" The honeymoon would end with one religion, and before the seat of her favorite pew had cooled, she was putting on her Sunday best to court another. She was smart though, because she didn't just go from the Baptist Church on 1st Ave to the Baptist Church on Langley Rd. No, because Baptists are not EXCITED to receive other Baptists. They are, however, excited to receive their archenemies. What a prize for a Baptist to bag a Catholic. Or for a Jehovah's Witness to bag a Pentecostal. And while saving the soul of your garden-variety sinner is a great prize, it is nothing compared to the sweet victory of converting a soul with roots firmly planted in an opposing religion. Now, I don't fault my mom for her spiritually promiscuous wa

sent in by Sue Waldemar We lived out in the country, and my mom would occasionally take me to the popular Baptist church in town. One time in Sunday School, when I was only 8 or 9, we were learning the 10 commandments. I piped up and asked why we didn't go to church on Saturday instead of Sunday, according to the 4th Commandment. Of course my teacher had no reasonable explanation, but it was my first experience at critical thinking. Later, living in a Catholic convent for "wayward girls" (I kept running away from an unhappy home) I was dismissed from the catechism class for asking unanswerable questions. But, I loved the religiosity of the whole thing. Daily mass was a high point for me, with all the pomp and mystery, and beauty of the chapel. In the meantime, when I was 11 our family moved into town, and there was a little Southern Baptist church just a few houses down the street from where I lived. I took myself to church every Sunday morning, S

sent in by non conformist I grew up in a very Catholic home in the Dominican Republic. I lived with my grandparents and my aunts, while my mother was here in the States working (she came here before I turned one). I took religion very seriously. I remember at one point I wanted to be a nun!!(the horror!!) I was very involved in anything that had to do with the church; I sang in the choir, went faithfully to catechism, volunteered in everything. It wasn't till I got older that I realized I was using the church to escape my home life. I was being sexually abused, and my grandmother REALLY believed in Not sparing the rod. Let's just say that I was not spoiled AT ALL. I found peace in the church. I bought all that Jesus is love bullshit, and I fervently believed that the Virgin Mary was praying for my sins, and that she always would. I memorized the names of all the saints, and I remember my aunt being really proud of that. She had pictures of saints

sent in by Emma I'm a little nervous about sharing this with anyone, but here goes! Where do I begin? I became a Christian at the age of 3, lying in my bed alone one night after hearing Bible stories from my mom. I don't recall being scared into it; it just seemed like a really good idea, inviting this nice man named Jesus into my heart. My mom was raised in the Lutheran church, but said she didn't become "truly saved" until she was 14 years old, as the result of attending bible camp. My dad was raised Lutheran as well, but he never really put much stock in it until after he married my mom. They attended a showing of a Billy Graham video, and he "became saved" as a result. Shortly after, they began to attend the Baptist church in town. My dad was an unusually temperamental and angry person while I was growing up. He loved to use Bible verses such as "Wives, submit to your husbands" to ensure his position as the &q

sent in by Lee I was born into this silly Christian belief system with a catholic mother and protestant father, at the age of about five I was enrolled in a local convent school, naturally inhabited by NUNS aaarg! These monochromatic creatures despite naming themselves after saints, Mother Malachy, Sister Teresa ect were quite violent in their outlook, being very keen to use the 'strap' a 18 inch monstrosity of quarter inch leather for the slightest infraction. I must have got this about twice a week across the palms of the hands or the calves for about three years. There is just something not right about a seven year old hobbling down a school corridor weeping and repeatedly muttering stuff like 'gentle f*****g Jesus'. To make matters worse my early education consisted largely of 'catechism' a load of religious babbling that had to be learned off by heart, instead of stuff like Math, and English in preparation for secondary school. Di

sent in by Lila Ok, this is my story. I'm really scared as I type this because I've never told it all before. I have a tendancy to intellectualise things, roll them over and over in my head, like a rock in a tumbler, until all the feelings have worn off. I was in foster care when the church got its claws into me. I was six and my mother had put me in care the very day she found out that her boyfriend was having sex with me (on me, more correctly). He had been molesting me from the time I was three and all the things he warned me would happen if I told did happen. My mother gave me away. She cried alot and I thought she'd stopped loving me. I was five. After a very lonely year in foster care, shunted from one home to the next, sometimes with my little brother, but mostly without, I landed in a Xtian home. It was November and I was six. My new foster parents were Baptists and took me to church the very night I arrived. "What's

sent in by kitty Unlike many here on this board. I did not grow up in a Christian home. My mother is Buddhist and my father officially Protestant, though he never read the bible or went to church. I converted as a teenager because my very conservative friend seemed to be the most together individual I knew, and I felt like the least together individual (at least that wasn't doing drugs or binge drinking or sleeping with the football team). The church I attended - and my friend's family, who "discipled" me - were very mission oriented. Sponsoring missionaries, having missionary speakers, mission trips for the high schoolers. The missionaries and their travels to exotic places fascinated me (just like National Geographic and PBS anthropology specials did) and it didn't take me long to come believe that I should be a missionary. So (after a math/science heavy college prep curriculum in high school), I went to a Christian liberal arts college to

sent in by Viper Both my mother and Father and all people I knew were Christian. Since my Father was Catholic, I had to be indoctrinated in the Catholic religion. My earliest recollection of doubt occurred when I asked a priest if it was ok to visit my mother's Baptist church. He told me in no uncertain terms that if I did, I would be sinning and would go to hell unless I sat there passively and did not sing, clap or otherwise take part in the service. Now, I want you to know that my mother always was and remains a VERY good, and moral person. For MANY years, she has sponsored children in Africa (she even went to visit her "child" having to climb a mountain to get there). At one point, I even considered studying to become a priest. I'm glad I didn't because after my military life abroad during the Viet Nam war, I used my GI benefits to get a real education in Physics. I believe the Catholic religion is the only one that says infants, mental incom

sent in by Wayne McCoy I was brought up in a Southern Baptist family, in the '40s and 50s. My mother's side, with whom we had the most contact, were pretty on being Christian. My grandfather was instrumental in getting the pastor for our church, my mother played the organ and my father sang in the choir. I didn't learn until many years later that my father was not all that strong in his belief. But I think the strongest influence was my grandmother, a daughter of the Old South. In any case, by the time I reached high school, I was teaching Sunday School, singing in the choir, going to church about four times a week, praying regularly. I graduated from HS and went off into the Army. For some reason, some of my fellow soldiers saw fit to pick on me, perhaps because I was small. But I had my faith to sustain me. Looking back on it now, I can see that the faith did little to sustain me. I got more help from the black soldiers in my unit, who endured not a little pr

sent in by anonymous I remember the day that I asked Jesus to come into my heart. I was walking back from mass on a Wednesday afternoon (I went to the local catholic school) and I must have been around 6 or so. I prayed with all my might, clutching my little worn bible to my chest, opened my heart, and . . . nothing. I remember my distinct feeling of disappointment that nothing "magical" had happened: no miracles, no rush of feeling, no mystical voices or light. And that was the beginning of the end for me. I would ask half-heartedly if I could get baptised and be confirmed, and my mother strictly forbade it. Just wait until you know for sure, she would tell me, wait until you understand a little more about what you are asking. To say she was right would be a vast understatement. To say I struggled with the tenants of the Xian faith would be putting it very mildly. I wanted to know why sex outside of marraige was frowned upon even if two people loved each other, while

sent in by Lila I lost, long ago, my belief in the Christian church. I lost my faith in Jesus and I struggled to maintain, even a glimmer of hope, that God was real at all. I will never be a Christian again, but I do believe that Jesus really saves. Christianity is a lie. All churches exploit the teachings of a visionary who opened the path to a garden of thought, hope, love and redemption. You can't save your soul from hell-fire by asking someone (even Jesus) to do it for you. Jesus, the person, likely existed. Not the way the Bible depicts, certainly, but there is considerable evidence that he was real. I like the theory that Amenhotep IV was Akhenaten, who was also Moses, the first Kabbalist, and the blood ancestor of Jesus, son of Mary. Furthermore, not only was Jesus a living man, but he was not of humble origins. In the language spoken by Jesus and his contemporaries, the word "carpenter" is the same as the word for "scholar&quo

sent in by anonymous If I hear the song I can only imagine one more time, I'm going to be physically ill. Has anyone ever heard of the artist Mercy Me? I personally can't stand him. And of course I hate the song I can only imagine. Well, this is my story. I was raised in church. I got baptized early on. Well, 17 or so. Then I turned 21 and got into partying and did that for a long time. Till about say 28-29. I was just getting too old to be in the clubs with the early 20's bunch. They were starting to laugh. Saying things like "he's the Hulk Hogan of the club scene". Meaning I didn't know when to hang it up. That my time in the clubs had long since passed. And they were right. You're only in your early 20's once. As that bunch of clowns will soon find out when THEY'RE the ones being laughed at for being "too old". Right before turning 30, I decided to give church another try. So I did. I had returned to being a chri

sent in by Ah Haw I feel that I've wasted 7 years of my life as a Christian. 7 years of suppression of common sense and desperate attempts to rationalize the absurdities of the Bible. Back in 1998 I was won over by the persistent evangelizing of Christian friends. They sure know how to stress the LOVE of God for me. Since they appeared to be ever so friendly and helpful, I decided to try attending church. But things went downhill almost from day one when I was converted: 1) I was told that it's a divine obligation to tithe and offer even more to my church. But I noticed that the pastors are all filthy rich and live luxurious lives. WHERE DOES THEIR MONEY COME FROM? This was my first doubt. 2) I began my bible study Sunday school like all new Christians do. But upon closer reading of the Bible, I was shocked by the atrocities commanded or approved by Jehovah in the OT. The Book of Revelations promised even more global mayhem to come. Strangely speaki

sent in by Zoe Grace Are you 100% sure? Well, I don't know, are you? In this country since most of us have already heard about Jesus and yet there are those of us who think its bullshit, Fundamentalists have taken a new tactic, the "are you 100% sure tactic." They think this will put the fear of god in us. They are mistaken. For one thing what does 100% sure mean? I'm not even 100% sure my car won't break down on the interstate, but generally it doesn't so I don't worry too much about it. Generally they appeal to Pascal's wager, a faulty piece of logic if ever there was one. They are following the "if I'm right then yay, If I'm wrong, nothing bad will happen." principle. Actually that's not exactly true. The muslims could be right and then the christians will go to muslim hell. Hell, ANYTHING could be right and christians would be punished just like the rest of us "non-believers" But is