Sunday, June 28, 2009


When I was young and being raised by my parents and family as a Christian, I used to pray to Jesus to take away my doubts and “evil thoughts”; even as a child, I felt that what they were trying to teach me – their “truth” – was nonsense.

Despite my fervent prayers (I was just a kid, and trying very hard to please my family and community, trying to be what they wanted – required – me to be), my doubts continued and increased. Jesus wasn’t helping me.

When I was old enough, I quit going to church with my family, but I continued into my adulthood with a secret fear that there was something wrong with me: there was something that enabled other people to believe that was lacking in myself, and I felt that this was an impediment. And I felt guilty for being unable to believe.

Now, finally, in the fifth decade of my life, I realize that there really is nothing wrong with me, unless thinking and asking questions are wrong. The god that I can finally admit I don’t believe in has ignored me all of my life, and it is not I who am unworthy – it is the god of the bible who is unworthy of my belief and worship.

My family had the best of intentions, I’m sure, raising me in their religion – they were doing what they had been trained to believe was right – but I am proud to say that I am the first one in my family to break the habit of generations; I have raised my children without religion… And they are good kids!

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