sent in by David
I’d been with the church for so long I still dream about it. Every Sunday, the same routine. But in the beginning I was all for it. As a kid it was easier to believe I suppose. I remember being a very devoted Santa myth believer as well, something I think should be shutdown right along with religion for what it’s doing to children! But back to my story.
I believed it. I honestly believed it all. I was baptized and made a member of my church. I was a missionary at a (sorry about this) children’s summer camp. I followed all the steps, devoted all my time, and I always felt like I was the good Christian. But at the very same time, doubt was always lingering at the back of my mind. I’m an intelligent and rational person. I skepticize and nitpick everything. The further I got into the whole thing, the further I was driven away from it in my mind. Rationality kept asking the fundamental question, why? To what end? The more I asked questions, the more I came up empty, until it came to the point where I could no longer stand attending church. But my parents would have nothing for it and forced me to attend at the risk of punishment. Eventually I was allowed to stay home, when it was clear forcing me was not having the desired effect.
So here I sit, completely free of my bindings to Christianity, and the happiest I been in my life.
Joined: From day one (Raised in the church)
Converted because: My parents wanted me to be a christian.
De-converted because: I wanted to decide who I was for myself.