(June 17, 2015 at 9:57 pm)Exian Wrote: Welcome, SpaceTime!
Yours is an interesting story that raises lots of questions: A confused and conflicted (almost ex-)Christian, the product of two atheists, struggling to reconcile reason with a personal relationship with a mental construct, all while trying to protect your family. And somehow, the atheist parents play a lesser role than you'd expect. Or do they? Have they tried to influence your thinking in any constructive ways? How have they acted as bad examples? Just curious.
Would you mind going into more detail of what you mean when you say you love Jesus? You love his story? His message? Or you love him personally? I don't mean to grill you, I'm just curious, because I remember being a Christian and always being confused by the manner in which certain terms were used by fellow Christians, and how those same terms seemed to be different when they used them in other areas in life.
Thanks for sharing your story and concerns with us, SpaceTime (what time is it?) I remember going through the same turmoil when I was deconverting. The biggest hurdle for me wasn't swallowing any competing scientific explanations, or accepting the inconsistencies in the story; it was recognizing that my personal God and Jesus were created by me in my head (a useful talent for negotiating possible social situations).
My parents have not played a role in me being more accepting of my atheism/agnosticism.
My mother was a tele-Christian. She stayed at home on Sundays, cracked sunflower seeds and put their spent shells on a newspaper. Always the multi-tasker she would read the local newspaper and watch TBN on Sunday mornings. My biological father was... no ... is, a penis with disease dripping from it. My step-father drives a Jeep with the FSM decal on it. He has a Masters in Mathematics, and refused to sign my release from high school to study business on the job with a very, very (still) reputable computer company that produces the very same super-computers that universities use to do complex mathematics. My financial motivations were spot on, but had I stuck with the hard math and science, I see now, that I would have not fallen pray to fairy-tales like Christianity in its fundamentalist form. He saw that, and I don't think he'd ever forgive me for dismissing his views on it. I love them, but because they are my children's grandparents.
I love Christ personally (I refuse to call him Jesus. I hate that name. All the damage that modern Western Christians have done with it. [In Geeeeeeesussssssss name!!! followed by fake spiritual gifts like acting drunk in the spirit and speaking in tongues]). When I was baptized, I "got a message" from Christ through the conduit of a lady who really, genuinely believed she was married to him. Just before my immersion, she said, "on behalf of all the women in your life, please forgive us, because we had no idea what we were doing to you when we did it." This was as real to me as any other experience I'd had directly. I spent 15 years now believing I had a personal relationship with Christ. When I tell you love Christ... I mean it. His sermon on the mount...
3 “Blessed are the poor in spirit,
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
4 Blessed are those who mourn,
for they will be comforted.
5 Blessed are the meek,
for they will inherit the earth.
6 Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness,
for they will be filled.
7 Blessed are the merciful,
for they will be shown mercy.
8 Blessed are the pure in heart,
for they will see God.
9 Blessed are the peacemakers,
for they will be called children of God.
10 Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness,
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
That sermon, to this day, gets me weepy. Taken out of context, which most of us Christians have to do, that Prince of Peace has my heart like a catfish on a hook. I love the man. If the scriptures accurately portrayed even these 7 verses, I love him still.
I was so amazed by, what I now understand as a psychological phenomenon, Christ "speaking to me", that I yearned for it. I lied to myself to make myself believe that he spoke to me meaningfully everyday through little happenstances. I even started tripping on mushrooms to feel that special again, but when the trip would end, I'd return to this dull, seemingly meaningless existence, still thirsty for more "message". I realize now that I was chasing a dream. If you saw me today, you wouldn't believe that I tripped mushrooms or drank heavily. I look like Bob Dobbs, prophet of the SubGenius... no shitting. But I went there because I was desperate to feel like the everlasting could recognize me. When all of humanity was depressing and sad (see, that's what we're told in deterministic Christianity), God thought we were special. What a great guy!
Except he sat (paraphrasing Hitchens) [with his arms folded in indifference while Elisabeth Fritzl was kidnapped, tortured, and raped in front of her children, that we her own father's every day of her sad life, without intervention]. What a great guy indeed.
I love Christ as a person. So long as his ideas are divorced from the f*cking madness of the rest of the bullshit. I would give most anything (saving the safety and security of others) to meet him. For too many years, I wished I could be the one to fall at his feet and grab his tunic and be saved... hoping *THAT* would *MAKE* me believe. But paraphrasing Ricky Gervais, "[If God were real, why did he make me an atheist?]"
You atheists have *ALWAYS* been my bed fellows. Even as a hard-line Orthodox Catholic, I defended you to the last drop. I even made YouTube videos proclaiming "If I hadn't had these very real (to me) experiences proving God's existence, I wouldn't want to be told that I'm going to hell over something I *CANNOT* believe!". I thought these experiences I had were real...
...but the trip has to end sometime. So 5 days ago... I sad down to my computer, opened up a text document and typed out...
"Heaven's not real, and you're going to die."
The period in the sentence is what hit me, but that's what I knew what real.
That's what started this.
Sorry. I started ranting. I could go on, but... I feel like Voyager 1.
