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From devout Protestant Christian, to devoutly protesting Christianity.
#1
From devout Protestant Christian, to devoutly protesting Christianity.
Well, it's 8:30 am as of this writing. I'm hung over from a house party last night, and waiting for my boiled eggs to be done. Figure I'll pass the time while I recover telling everyone a story. So gather 'round, children, this is the story of the Little Heretic That Couldn't (Believe).

I was born into a fairly rough situation. Rough as in my mother died as a result of complications from my birth all of 45 minutes after I entered this world (and lemme tell you what kinda guilt issues THAT saddled me with for the first 16 years of my life), and my father died 3 years later in Desert Storm as a result of friendly fire. Me and my two older brothers (Seth, younger, Greg, eldest) were supposed to be taken in by our grandmother, being she was the only living relative that could be contacted or was of the proper age to take us in. She took the death benefits from our father's death as our legal guardian, and once she had this small fortune that was meant for our caretaking, she dumped us in an alley in DC and sped off to blow our money in Vegas. I was homeless for a year, at the age of 3, with Seth, at the age of 5, both us being taken care of by our eldest brother, Greg, who was at the ripe age of responsibility

...actually, no, he was 8.

We lived wherever we could; alleyways, old wrecked buildings [there's plenty in the eastern districts of the city], homeless shelters. Eventually, someone contacted social services about a year later [in the middle of winter; I should point out that the winter of 1991 was one of the coldest in Virginia's climate history] and we were taken into foster care. I grew up apart from my brothers since we got divided up, generally being smacked around, punched, kicked, yelled at for whatever, starving, and jumping from neglectful adopters to abusive adopters to sexually deviant adopters to neglectfully abusive deviant adopters. The one instance of kindness during those earlier years of this absolute torture was this kindly old black woman who took me in when I was 8, almost 9. She was from New Orleans, and had moved to South Carolina [this was in Charlottesville] when she was in her 50s [she was in her 70s at the time of adoption]. Strict and sometimes severe, she nevertheless was a very nice, compassionate woman who expressed the most righteous outrage when she had been told by the social workers what had happened to me previously that to this day I think of her as a heroine.

She was a Methodist, which is basically a very very very softcore version of Christianity, and she was quiet about it, but I found myself interested in where she was going on Sunday mornings and what book she always used to read. She eventually took me with her to a service at the local First Methodist Church, and while the deeper teachings always eluded me, to me, the general idea was a very comforting one; that there was a man who didn't know me, never would know me, but let himself undergo the worst death possible for me out of love, and that there was a higher power, a being beyond sight and comprehension, who loved me on the only condition that I accept that his son was to be venerated for his sacrifice. The idea was perfectly reasonable to me, and so the kindly old Nawlins lady who taught me how to deep-fry chicken just right and with the right blend of cajun spices got me into Christianity without forcing it into me.

Alas, she had a heart attack the next year, and in her poor health, she could no longer be my caretaker. A shame. Maybe my life wouldn't have been so bad if that hadn't happened. The next few foster families I lived with were pretty screwed up. One was a psychiatrist, and a total quack of one at that, too, who used me as a sort of human test subject with which to test sleeping medications he was being sponsored to push on other people. The massive amounts of narcotics I was ingesting completely screwed up my still-developing body, leading me to begin to suffer extremely bad insomnia, catatonic schizophrenia, good ol' bi-polar syndrome, and a myriad amount of other pleasant mental defects that took extensive therapy to treat, mitigate, and in sadly few cases, cure. This man of science had pumped me full of chems that fucked me up. I found my faith in the lord being strengthened, as my eleven-year old mind figured that this one quack was just like everyone else who practiced the devil's work of psychiatry rather than the good lord and heavenly god's own written work, the bible.

Yeah, like I said, I was 11 at the time.

My faith didn't last long, to be honest. At the age of 14, the first girl I ever fell in love with was shot and killed right next to me. It was the snapping point. I had already been sampling hard drugs [me and her used to shoot H every other week], and her death made me experience a severe crisis of faith. I had suffered my entire life. Why did this god who loved me allow this to happen, despite all my late night sobbing pleas for it to stop, that I couldn't handle any more? I was functionally catatonic for weeks. I was on autopilot, just doing the basic things to live. Eat, drink, sleep. I didn't respond to anyone. I didn't notice their presence. I didn't care.

I didn't really renounce god. But I stopped caring about anything. I became a junkie. To forget everything, I pumped myself full of anything I could. Coke, ecstasy, alcohol, marijuana, heroin, meth. Mostly heroin. A friend of mine OD'd during this time. I didn't even care. I was too drugged-up, and too apathetic, too numbed to everything. I saw another friend die in a car accident. Shit got worse. I did more drugs. Eventually, I OD'd on cocaine. My heart stopped. Thankfully, a friend who had been trying the entire time to get me to move on was there, and she was sober. She did emergency CPR while she waited for the ambulance, and they shoved a needle into my chest and pumped me full of adrenaline, which resuscitated me. I was taken into a detox clinic by one of the doctors who took pity on me, and after painful, VERY painful detox of all the shit I was on, which took six months to flush from my system, I was placed into psychological treatment. At first I refused their help, remembering my past experience with psyches, but these people actually helped me. Another blow to my faith; my conviction in those who used methods other than the bible being despicable being shattered. Once recovered enough, I returned to school at the age of 15, and was placed in a school that taught both intelligent design and evolution. At first I scorned the idea of evolution...and then I started reading into it.

It opened my eyes fully. The questions being introduced against my faith were piling up, and I could find no satisfactory answers despite the most feverish attempts to do so. I renounced my faith shortly after, and began to take to my studies in school full-tilt. I learned more in those three, almost four years than I had most of my entire life. I was placed in AP honor roll courses, and constantly aced every test thrown my way. As time went on I scorned the teaching intelligent design, eventually rebelling and refusing to write anything on the subject that implied it was a viable alternative to evolution. I began studying the constitutional amendments, and found to my disbelief the separation of church and state. And the more I read, the more I realized that what precious little I had was largely afforded to me by the Forefathers who wrote the Constitution. During this time I was solidifying more contact with my brothers, including Greg, who had joined the army, the same exact branch as our father had...and the same unit, a unit some people might have heard of.

We know of them as the 75th Ranger Regiment. He is now a Captain in the Rangers.

I refused to attend church. I was dragged in by my second-to-last foster family to be "exorcised of the demons that inhabited me." I was aghast at the ludicrous notion. I was not one to say there was no god and in truth I believed still in some kind of god, in ghosts and demons and the like, but I was also fully aware that I was in control of myself. In fact, more so than I had ever been, and they made the suggestion I was POSSESSED? I was infuriated. I showed up to the church wearing my gothic finest; black tripp pants with chains changing from them everywhere, fishnets, combat boots, spiked collars and bracelets, all that fun stuff, and proceeded to laugh my ass off at the almost childish display of the people having "visions" and spasming like idiots and gargling false bullshit baby-words that they claimed were "tongues" as they sought to "purify" me. Eventually the entire spectacle became so embarrassing [many of them had brought their children with them to this, too] that I eventually stood up, told the entire congregation they were a bunch of whackjobs, that I couldn't believe I once used to be associated with anyone of this crazy religion, and stormed out.

I was largely agnostic for the longest time; how could I, a mere human being, say there was no god, when even men like Stephen Hawking admitted they didn't have the evidence to prove or disprove such an entity's existence? But like Isaac Asimov, I came to the understanding that I was a creature of emotion as well as reason; reasonably I knew there was no way to disprove god's existence but I was so sure that he wasn't based on past experiences and everything I had learned that I was positive that not only did god likely not exist, but that all the other superstitious mumbo-jumbo adopted by so-called "alternative faiths" like wicca and satanism was no better.

And finally, last year, in November, I came across a book that finally led me to become the antitheistic individual I am now. A little ol' book by the name of "god is not Great: How Religion Poisons Everything." Christopher Hitchens and his surgically precise dismantlement of all superstitious beliefs completed my transition.

From devout Protestant Christian...to devoutly protesting Christianity, and every other superstitious belief out there. I used to think faith kept me together...but I adopted faith earlier in life. And as my life went on, shit never got any better. I shook my faith, and yet I never quite fell apart. I maintained my own strength to get through my life and to come to terms with everything I've endured. People do not need faith to comfort them...they only need strength, and strength that comes from ones own self is far better and far more resilient than strength born of false comforts. I am a living testament to that.
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#2
RE: From devout Protestant Christian, to devoutly protesting Christianity.
Congratulations for surviving.

I love it when the pro-"life" crowd says how wonderful the foster care system is.
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#3
RE: From devout Protestant Christian, to devoutly protesting Christianity.
(March 4, 2012 at 12:49 pm)Minimalist Wrote: Congratulations for surviving.

I love it when the pro-"life" crowd says how wonderful the foster care system is.

The pro-life crowd can suck my balls; foster care SUCKS. It's not any fault of the workers, either. The same pro-lifers are the same assholes voting for republican dipshits who cut funding for "non-essential" government programs all the time, and you bet your ass that social services is one of the first on the chopping block, so the people who work there are doing the work of ten people each because they're understaffed. As a result, they can hardly even manage to do the background checks, let alone check up on the kids once they've been integrated into a new home more than once every six months, so you have kids being dumped off on just anyone who walks in wanting that government stipend check with little to no real guarantees on who they even are.
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#4
RE: From devout Protestant Christian, to devoutly protesting Christianity.
I would so thumbs this up if I could.

I normally don't read these long intros, but this one was interesting, and easy to follow. Although long, it was down to the point.
From reading, your story, it is a very sad one indeed. Those are some of the hardest struggles for anyone to overcome.

I'm glad your life has turned for the way better, and not because of God.

The best part of your story.

(March 4, 2012 at 12:15 pm)Creed of Heresy Wrote: People do not need faith to comfort them...they only need strength, and strength that comes from ones own self is far better and far more resilient than strength born of false comforts. I am a living testament to that.

It's that easy. Smile

Make America Great Again! Trump 2020
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#5
RE: From devout Protestant Christian, to devoutly protesting Christianity.
A very moving story. Many people seem to fall *into* faith as a result of what you did; it's enouraging to see the opposite happen here. I am by no means comparing my life to what you've gone through, but my own psychiatric illnesses I suffered from growing up are a major reason I came to disbelieve in God, too. I just couldn't believe that a "loving father" with an "ultimate plan" for justice and goodness in the universe could allow what happened to me to happen...much less what happened to you. As another poster said, congratulations for surviving.

I don't know if the system is as bad up here in Canada...I certainly hope not. I never got why so many people below (usually those of faith) seem to support the Republican party. They stand up for none of their interests, only heartlessness, big business, and greed, and only rattle off all that nonsense about trusting in Jesus because it gets them votes. If they don't want to give up their socially conservatism (as stupid and generally inhumane as I think social conservatism is), I hope they realize its relationship with fiscal conservatism (classical liberalism) is both illogical and unnecessary. Then maybe we could see some change in the voter trends, party policies, and eventually (hopefully) the United States as a whole.

Welcome to the forum! Smile
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#6
RE: From devout Protestant Christian, to devoutly protesting Christianity.
People tend to turn to god in times of crisis not out of strength, as they will always claim, but out of weakness and cowardice. I've known a few people who were atheists and then someone close to them died and they insta-converted to being a Christian, which leads me to believe that they didn't do it out of faith but fear. They suddenly realized someone they loved is gone forever and they can't tolerate the idea that they're gone in every sense of the word so they choose to lie to themselves, tell themselves that they're somewhere beyond death. Which is truly, truly saddening.
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#7
RE: From devout Protestant Christian, to devoutly protesting Christianity.
(March 4, 2012 at 2:25 pm)Creed of Heresy Wrote: People tend to turn to god in times of crisis not out of strength, as they will always claim, but out of weakness and cowardice. I've known a few people who were atheists and then someone close to them died and they insta-converted to being a Christian, which leads me to believe that they didn't do it out of faith but fear. They suddenly realized someone they loved is gone forever and they can't tolerate the idea that they're gone in every sense of the word so they choose to lie to themselves, tell themselves that they're somewhere beyond death. Which is truly, truly saddening.

Wow. O.O I've never even heard a Christian claim they turned to God in times of crisis out of strength. I've always heard them say "I finally realized I couldn't do it on my own anymore, and so I invited Jesus into my heart". They basically admitted they were "weak", lol.

It's very sad, yes. It's a human tendency that's not just limited to religion, unfortunately. Most people would rather lie to themselves about things that make them uncomfortable than face the truth. Even though coming to terms with the truth would make them stronger...
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#8
RE: From devout Protestant Christian, to devoutly protesting Christianity.
Eugh, boiled eggs.
Cunt
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#9
RE: From devout Protestant Christian, to devoutly protesting Christianity.
(March 4, 2012 at 3:14 pm)Child of Stardust Wrote:
(March 4, 2012 at 2:25 pm)Creed of Heresy Wrote: People tend to turn to god in times of crisis not out of strength, as they will always claim, but out of weakness and cowardice. I've known a few people who were atheists and then someone close to them died and they insta-converted to being a Christian, which leads me to believe that they didn't do it out of faith but fear. They suddenly realized someone they loved is gone forever and they can't tolerate the idea that they're gone in every sense of the word so they choose to lie to themselves, tell themselves that they're somewhere beyond death. Which is truly, truly saddening.

Wow. O.O I've never even heard a Christian claim they turned to God in times of crisis out of strength. I've always heard them say "I finally realized I couldn't do it on my own anymore, and so I invited Jesus into my heart". They basically admitted they were "weak", lol.

It's very sad, yes. It's a human tendency that's not just limited to religion, unfortunately. Most people would rather lie to themselves about things that make them uncomfortable than face the truth. Even though coming to terms with the truth would make them stronger...

Yeah, part of the whole "Christian Revitalization" movement going through American Christianity tends to be "I am strong because I believe" rather than "I was weak so I believed." I think they have started realizing how foolish it is to say "I am a weak individual so I need a crutch," only in different words, so now they say that atheists are weak for being disbelievers. I love the irony.
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#10
RE: From devout Protestant Christian, to devoutly protesting Christianity.
Wow, what a story. You know, I always had a deep suspicion that the vast majority of adopters were cruel people. It is a shame.

Thanks for sharing your story.
God is a personification of ourselves, what we wish to be, and that which we do not understand.
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