Why I Write About My Deconversion

I have gotten a few bits of feedback on my deconversion series that made me realize that I should explain my reasons for writing it. Some have been perplexed as to why an atheist would bother providing a narrative that might look comparable to a “born again” Christian’s account of how they were “saved”. On the other hand, a couple of Christians have responded to my deconversion series as an attempt to disprove theism or Christianity.

So, why amI writing this narrative?

If I look at myself and my motives with a psychologist’s eye, I would guess that having grown up as an evangelical Christian, narratives about conversion had a very powerful influence on me and on my expectations. Constructing and offering conversion narratives functioned as core practices of personal understanding, identity formation, and community building in the church. They were also testimonial in nature. They were offered as proofs of personal sincerity of belief and of the practical efficacy of the faith to improve one’s life. They also functioned to try to sway hearers to believe the truth of the faith–but this function I reject as fallacious and so is not my intention.

Religious people use their testimonies as evangelizing tools. The arguments they reference as persuading them are always taken to be perfectly compelling. Those listening or reading about how they affected the convert are being emotionally and rationally encouraged to feel and think along with the convert’s former self as the narrative goes along and end up having the same emotional and rational conclusions and, so, converting. Such stories are designed to give the nonbeliever (or give those of merely lukewarm faith or a different faith) a model that they are subtly being encouraged to follow.

But I am not doing that. Or at least I’m not doing it intentionally. I think that it is better to persuade people about matters of truth primarily with rational arguments and not stories about the emotional effect that those arguments had on you as a person–as though that was relevant to their truth value.  Religions need narratives, identity, emotional appeals, and community benefits in order to make converts because their belief content is, intellectually speaking, ludicrous. I am a philosopher and an atheist, I can (and prefer to) make my case for disbelief purely on philosophical and scientific grounds. So I am not trying to prove very much philosophically with these stories. I do mean to offer insights, emotional appeals, and community benefits to others who independently see the rational reasons for disbelief and so are either already deconverts or in the process of deconverting but yet unable to cope emotionally and socially with what they are seeing intellectually. To all such people, I offer emotional support against all the emotional pressures and manipulations they have to (or had to) endure from religious influences.

Since I was a nearly lifelong devout evangelical Christian when I deconverted, I became an atheist in the ways a devout evangelical Christian would. One can only leave Christianity as a Christian. As I put it in a seminal post, “I rejected faith-based religion religiously, at least insofar as my rejection of faith grew out of my religious struggle.” In my case this meant aspects of conversion narrative construction and telling are important to how I think and communicate.

For one, I was too committed a Christian to simply “slip away” from the faith imperceptibly. If there was going to be a day when I said to myself “I am not a Christian”, it would be one that noticeably, memorably, and irrevocably fissured my identity with far reaching consequences for my whole life, my whole sense of self, my whole philosophy, and my relationships to everyone close to me. And it was exactly this.

Growing up, I never had a very good “testimony” since I had never been either an unbeliever or only a casually committed Christian. I had had no real conversion to Christianity. When asked how I became a Christian, the story I would tell was the entertaining tale about how my mom became disaffected with the Catholic Church and then my brother converted to evangelical Protestantism, leading to my mom and me becoming such Christians too as a consequence. I just wasn’t myself a convert or someone who had come to believe or commit through as a difficult process. I bought in to Christianity as an elementary school child.

The irony was that I would wind up deconverting and, in true evangelical form, I came away with a “testimony”! One replete with a pair of dramatic deconversion moments, in true evangelical form. As with other evangelicals, my story of deconversion is in part about proving the sincerity of my unbelief. I aim to make clear to Christians that I was one of them, that all my life was willingly committed to their God and that all my emotions were on the side of their God when my intellect was dissuaded against my will. I was not, as much as they want to assume, looking to leave Christianity, biased against Christianity, unable or unwilling to dutifully follow the rules of Christianity, disposed against the God of Christianity, unfamiliar with the most sophisticated philosophical or theological versions of Christianity, or unfamiliar with how wonderful Christians or Christian community could be. I had been there, done that, and despite wanting nothing more than to believe, I had found that I could no longer believe–either rationally or ethically. The best arguments for the faith had failed. The best arguments against it were overwhelming. And as a matter of intellectual and moral conscience, I could no longer believe fantastic claims that had the preponderance of rational evidence stacked overwhelmingly against them. I deconverted against my will.

There are two ways that my story serves as an argument against Christianity, but they are far from decisive disproofs. I offer those in properly philosophical posts.

The first small bit of evidence against the truth of Christianity is epistemological. My story, and countless others like mine, show that someone can be completely prejudiced in favor of Christianity and still be dissuaded, rather than only come to disbelieve out of prejudices against believing. Of course, our conclusions could be all wrong for reasons other than prejudice. Our arguments against theism and Christianity must be judged on their rational and evidential merits themselves. But when presuppositionalist apologists for Christianity and others try to claim that all non-believers don’t believe because they hate God and are prejudiced against believing, they are flatly psychologically empirically deluding themselves and rationalizing to themselves. I know they have theological reasons that the Calvinists have to tell themselves we deconverts were never “true” believers. But we know our minds well enough to know that that belief is falsified, and we have no doubts in our minds on that point. If we know nothing else we know how earnestly and pureheartedly we wanted to believe and at one point did believe and how personally traumatizing it was at first not to believe.

When Christians try to ignore or deny these facts when talking to me, they put themselves at a disadvantage by insulting me, making me feel contempt for their arrogant presumptions, and making clear to me that they are simply psychologically ignorant people. Christians need to start by accepting the reality of sincerely convinced former believers and working within that reality if they hope to make any strides in understanding or dissuading us.

My deconversion narrative’s second bit of philosophically relevant evidence for arguments about the truth of Christianity is its testimonies about the damaging ways that Christianity arrested my emotional, intellectual, social, ethical, and psychosexual development. Christianity led to some harmful attitudes about myself and created morally bad barriers between me and other people. I might in future posts talk more about that than I already have even. Christianity didn’t only make me immature and corrupt me morally and intellectually, of course. As I have also explained (and could explain more), there were some extraordinarily good virtues that I either acquired through Christianity or, at least, had effectively cultivated for me by Christian practices and paradigms. They could have been developed without Christianity, but in my case Christianity gave them their original forms.

In this way, my story is not a simplistic warning tale that Christianity only harms. But to the extent that you would think that a perfectly good and omnipotent God should be able to keep his most conscientiously devoted followers from being directly harmed by the very words of His Scripture and His church’s most powerfully influential theologians, this serves as a piece of evidence that either such a God does not exist or, at least, He is not the one believers in the Bible claim is out there. You would also think that those who commit their formative intellectual years to proving the philosophical and theological merits of believing in Him would not come away (so very often) completely disillusioned and convinced that Christianity is intellectually bankrupt. But here we are.

Rationalize it however you can, less philosophically and theologically educated Christians. Hug close your framed pictures of William Lane Craig and Alvin Plantinga and repeat over and over to yourselves “smart people believe in Christianity so it must be true”. But the cold hard fact is that over 83% of trained philosophers–those specialists most expert in the metaphysical, epistemological, and ethical issues relevant to proving or disproving Christianity philosophically–are not theists. It is wholly unlikely taht this is just because they (and the 50% disbelieving scientists) are all coincidentally far greater God haters than the general population, which is both more philosophically ignorant and (coincidentally?!) more theistic.

But I digress.

Mostly I write my narrative not for believers but for my fellow atheists and for those believers who are in the process of deconverting. I am very, very heartened and gratified by all the atheists who tell me about how much my story resonates with their own experience. I do not write as someone trying to emotionally sway anyone to disbelief through narrative. I write as an escapee of a cult so massive that it is treated with not only credibility but a disturbing amount of unwarranted moral and intellectual deference both culturally and politically. And when we escapees criticize our former cult, not only do we suffer social and emotional consequences from that majority of our beloved families, friends, and fellow citizens who remain in the cult we even get rebukes or puzzled condescension from people who were never part of our cult at all but think it too unseemly, gauche, petty, or plebeian to deign to criticize such “harmless silliness”!

So I share my story of gaining mental freedom after having been brainwashed by Christianity because it’s a largely marginalized story, one that strikes too many as strange, though it is in actuality very common. Growing up, the former Christians I knew of were for the most part respectfully silentWhen I became an atheist I had no living atheist role models. I had no one to take me under their wing. I had no prominent cultural figures with whom to identify. No one plugged me in to atheist literature. I remember going to the bookstore and seeing a lone book on atheism and marveling at it. What would someone write a whole book about atheism about? The prospect of books on atheism was exciting. I was flying blind here. I had profound abstract dead philosophers who were atheists that I could read but I didn’t have anything like a living, breathing community of people who had gone through what I had and could understand me. I knew most contemporary philosophers were not theists but the philosophy programs I attended were first evangelical (for undergrad) and then Catholic (for graduate studies).

I was alone and alienated and left to my own defenses to piece together my picture of the world. I had a friend who deconverted with me but he reverted to belief shortly after. I had another closeted atheist friend but, at first, he only excoriated and rejected me for proclaiming my non-belief and arguing with believers.

I had a rough time. I am proud of course that I was able to sift through a lot of stuff on my own and work out my post-Christian identity essentially by myself, with help only from philosophers like Nietzsche and Foucault. But I would have been a lot better off if I had had a community that could have helped me make sense of things and give me constructive resources. And I remember feeling finally understood when I discovered Sam Harris and Christopher Hitchens in 2007. Finally I had found contemporary writers expressing and defending my own explicitly and unequivocally anti-faith viewpoints. My heart was set afire and my consciousness began rising.

So I write most of all for those who are like I once was: doubting and terrified of the prospect of life without their faith, seeing ahead only the disappointment of their family and friends and the loss of their personal identity. I write about my process so they know they are not alone and to show them how I made it through. And I write for those who have already deconverted so that they can feel understood, can have aid in making constructive sense of their own experiences, and so they have something to point the believers who torment them to that speaks for their experience. And not only do I want to help them express their experience, but to help them master, and make constructive After My Deconversion: Avoiding The Abuser’s Dialectic (Or “My Nietzschean Lion Stage of Indignation”)” target=”_blank”>rather than destructive, the anger they rightly feel about it.

Finally, I write for personal reasons. This was one of the most decisive and formative moments in my life and will always be important to understand if I am to understand myself or if anyone else is to understand me. Though I have changed a lot since and will continue to change in ways that may make many people unable even to imagine me as a believer, no one ever fully escapes where they come from or its influence upon who they are. As William Falkner put it in Requiem for a Nun, “The past is never dead. It’s not even past.” Or, as Paul Thomas Anderson put it in his film Magnolia“We may be through with the past, but the past isn’t through with us.”

Both my Christian days and my deconversion matter to who I am today and it is important to me to express who I am and to contextualize who I am for myself and for others. As I explained in my previous post, this experience so profoundly impacted me that it shaped my dissertation. On the surface, of course, the dissertation is impersonal and academic. It is an exercise in Nietzsche scholarship and, at the end, an exercise in moral philosophy. But Nietzsche himself said in Beyond Good and Evilsection 6, that every great philosophy was “the personal confession of its author and a kind of involuntary and unconscious memoir” and that “the moral (or immoral) intentions in every philosophy constituted the real germ of life from which the whole plant had grown.” Nietzsche did not deny that this reality was even at work in his own case and he did not see it as antithetical to being a scrupulous lover of knowledge and a philosopher who conveys truth. In the preface to The Genealogy of Morals he describes his own work with a parallel horticultural metaphor:

…the ideas themselves are older.  They were already in essentials the same ideas that I take up again in the present treatises—let us hope the long interval has done them good, that they have become riper, clearer, stronger, more perfect!  That I still cleave to them today, however, that they have become in the meantime intertwined and interlaced with one another, strengthens my joyful assurance that they might have arisen in me from the first not as isolated, capricious, or sporadic things but from a common root, from a fundamental will of knowledge, pointing imperiously into the depths, speaking more and more precisely, demanding greater and greater precision.  For this alone is fitting for a philosopher.  We have no right to isolated acts of any kind: we may not make isolated errors or hit upon isolated truths.  Rather do our ideas, our values, our yeas and nays, our ifs and buts, grow out of us with the necessity with which a tree bears fruit—related and each with an affinity to each, and evidence of one will, one health, one soil, one sun.

My fundamental grasp of certain key truths about epistemology and ethics was acquired through the kinds of experiences through which I got access to them. To the extent that Nietzsche is onto something, inevitably a philosopher will be a bit different than the impersonal scientist. When I am able to present a reasonably coherent, comprehensive, and systematic philosophical account of numerous features found in experience, part of my skill is going to come from my abilities for filtering and making sense of my own diffuse experience of the world. Again, a philosopher’s biography proves nothing true or false. You will have to assess the ideas I argue for on their own merits. But it would be dishonest of me to try to erase the biographical and psychological details of how they got into my head as matters of irrelevance. (But I also warn you that my views from when I was a college senior are not the whole memoir and so do not tell the whole story of my current philosophical views. So keep reading as I write posts about my intellectual journey post-deconversion or, better, just read my actual philosophical and theological arguments I regularly post on the blog and judge them on their own merits.)

Even though my dissertation is ostensibly (and I hope defensibly!) a scholarly interpretation of Nietzsche’s philosophy, when read it it doubles as a very satisfying memoir of the first 32 years of my life. It evokes to me all the experiences that got me thinking or which sensitized me to one aspect of reality or another and which clued me in specifically to what Nietzsche might mean in all his cryptic, contradictory complexity. It also didn’t hurt that Nietzsche played such a pivotal role in my life. Reading my painstaking interpretation of the intricacies of his philosophy I see a systematic explication and clarification of what was going on in me intellectually and emotionally for more than ten years. And then reading my critical departures from him and my attempts to gratefully move beyond him at last, in the final chapter, I am reading about my late twenties and early thirties.

I was self-aware about all of this throughout. In fact, I remember my first meeting with my initial dissertation adviser. I sat down and told her that before we talked at all about the project I wanted to undertake I needed to tell her about where I was coming from. I proceeded to explain all about my deconversion. I don’t think she had the foggiest idea the importance of this and cut me off before I could finish, telling me simply that I should talk to her husband, implying we’d had some similar theological struggles in the past  and might be able to relate to each other. What she didn’t get was that I was telling her about what, on a certain level, my dissertation was going to be about. (Though she started to come around when I cited what Nietzsche had to say about philosophy as memoir. She then recommended I use The Antichrist 50, the text I read in the second of my two deconversion moments, as an epigram for the dissertation.)

So, while usually on this blog I argue for against Christianity and against theism abstractly–and while those arguments stand or fall on their own wholly independent of my own biography–I have periodically over the last year taken time to write this memoir in order to make sense of what it all meant to me personally in the past and what it means to me now. And I do it most of all for those deconverting, so they know they’re not alone and they can make it out okay, for the already deconverted so they find their experience expressed for them, and for the believers that they may understand their deconverted former brethren better and start treating us like the people we actually are and not like the caricatures other Christians have dreamed up.

Your Thoughts?

To read my deconversion narrative, use the following links as a guide.

Before I Deconverted:

Before I Deconverted: My Christian Childhood

Before I Deconverted: Ministers As Powerful Role Models

My Fundamentalist Preacher Brother, His Kids, And Me (And “What To Do About One’s Religiously Raised Nieces and Nephews”)

Before I Deconverted: I Was A Teenage Christian Contrarian

Before I Deconverted, I Already Believed in Equality Between the Sexes

Love Virginity

Before I Deconverted: I Dabbled with Calvinism in College (Everyone Was Doing It)

How Evangelicals Can Be Very Hurtful Without Being Very Hateful

Before I Deconverted: My Grandfather’s Contempt

How I Deconverted:

How I Deconverted, It Started With Humean Skepticism

How I Deconverted, I Became A Christian Relativist

How I Deconverted: December 8, 1997

How I Deconverted: I Made A Kierkegaardian Leap of Faith

How I Deconverted: My Closest, and Seemingly “Holiest”, Friend Came Out As Gay

How I Deconverted: My Closeted Best Friend Became A Nihilist and Turned Suicidal

How I Deconverted: Nietzsche Caused A Gestalt Shift For Me (But Didn’t Inspire “Faith”)

As I Deconverted: I Spent A Summer As A Christian Camp Counselor Fighting Back Doubts

How I Deconverted: I Ultimately Failed to Find Reality In Abstractions

A Postmortem on my Deconversion: Was it that I just didn’t love Jesus enough?

When I Deconverted:

When I Deconverted: I Was Reading Nietzsche’s “Anti-Christ”, Section 50

When I Deconverted: I Had Been Devout And Was Surrounded By The Devout

When I Deconverted: Some People Felt Betrayed

When I Deconverted: My Closest Christian Philosopher Friends Remained My Closest Philosophical Brothers

When I Deconverted: I Was Not Alone

When I Deconverted: Some Anger Built Up

When I Deconverted: I Sure Could Have Used The Secular Student Alliance

The Philosophical Key To My Deconversion:

Apostasy As A Religious Act (Or “Why A Camel Hammers the Idols of Faith”)

After I Deconverted:

After I Deconverted: I Was A Radical Skeptic, Irrationalist, And Nihilist—But Felt Liberated

After My Deconversion: I Refuse to Let Christians Judge Me

After My Deconversion: My Nietzschean Lion Stage of Liberating Indignant Rage

Meta:

Why I Write About My Deconversion

About Daniel Fincke

Dr. Daniel Fincke  has his PhD in philosophy from Fordham University and spent 11 years teaching in college classrooms. He wrote his dissertation on Ethics and the philosophy of Friedrich Nietzsche. On Camels With Hammers, the careful philosophy blog he writes for a popular audience, Dan argues for atheism and develops a humanistic ethical theory he calls “Empowerment Ethics”. Dan also teaches affordable, non-matriculated, video-conferencing philosophy classes on ethics, Nietzsche, historical philosophy, and philosophy for atheists that anyone around the world can sign up for. (You can learn more about Dan’s online classes here.) Dan is an APPA  (American Philosophical Practitioners Association) certified philosophical counselor who offers philosophical advice services to help people work through the philosophical aspects of their practical problems or to work out their views on philosophical issues. (You can read examples of Dan’s advice here.) Through his blogging, his online teaching, and his philosophical advice services each, Dan specializes in helping people who have recently left a religious tradition work out their constructive answers to questions of ethics, metaphysics, the meaning of life, etc. as part of their process of radical worldview change.

  • Gaylene Wetzel

    I too am grateful not to be alone. My children and I are atheists, my husband is, I think, a Deist. When I finally made the break, due to a conversation with my son, then at ‘the age of reason’, I went searching on the web for like-minded folk in my city. I personally would like to have an ‘atheist church’, where we’d get together weekly and study anti-bible stuff, or something similar. I miss the community feeling, and while I love my atheist friends, I just don’t get enough time with them, darnitall. What I do have is definitely better than nothing. I am grateful to atheist writers, esp. Hitchens, and others like you. Don’t stop!

    • Stedman Fan

      Actually, you are still alone.

      Atheists like to talk about helping their fellows, but I have found it is just that…talk.

  • “Rebecca”

    “repeat over and over to yourselves ‘smart people believe in Christianity so it must be true’”
    This was the mantra that kept me trapped in Christianity for much longer than I should have been. No matter how much apologetic literature I read, I always felt like I wasn’t smart enough or educated enough or deep enough to defend my faith properly. I felt like I was the failure and if only I was as smart as the smart Christians were, I wouldn’t be plagued by so many doubts.
    You can imagine my happiness when I began to allow myself to realize that the problem wasn’t me, the problem was the belief itself.

    I love your deconversion blogs, I think I’ve read mostly all of them now and I feel honestly moved by your struggles. Thanks for all you write, Dan.

  • Ken Shelton

    I read your deconversion series with keen interest, not because I relate, but because I have not had that experience. Through your blogs, I’ve come to better understand your former religion, a belief system that, frankly, has never made sense to me. As a voyeur on matters of religion, I’m learning how it works (and as a bonus, picking up on some Nietzschean thought). Thanks for blogging your story.

  • Jeff

    Dan,
    I also appreciate when you write about your deconversion. I’m recently deconverted myself, and it is encouraging to know that other former believers have traveled that road before me. Also, I remain in a community of believers, have kids in Christian school, and have a wife who is struggling mightily to come to terms with my loss of faith. It is important that atheists tell their stories because so many of us were once long-time committed Christians.

  • chris buchholz

    I think a big reason I bother to tell anyone is similar to part of what you wrote: to get Christians to shut up with their arrogant, ignorant assumptions about me and my history and my beliefs.

    Funny thing is, like you, I feel like I need to evangelize or live my philosophy to the fullest. As a Christian this was commitment to truth, to making the world better, to convince other people to do the same and to be a model for others. Now that I am an atheist, none of that changed. I am not sure why so many Christians think just because you’re not one of them, they don’t understand why you’d want to share your life and beliefs.

    That makes me wonder how many Christians don’t believe there is merit to Great Commission, but rather it’s just a command they have to follow, instead of actually believing we all have a duty to make the world better and convince others to do the same. If it were the latter, then it’s only natural we ALL would feel a Commission to spread everything we think is good. So why are they so flabbergasted that we would want to share good things with others?

    For me, like Epicurus, the day I truly embraced atheism was the day I felt free and no longer fearful, able to embrace truth and admit when my ideas are wrong. And I think that freedoms is great and want others to share in it.

    • chris buchholz

      I spellchecked but did not grammar check :)

  • smrnda

    I studied the psychology of religion and am thinking of recommending to my former colleagues that they take a look at conversion narratives and personal testimonies. At first I only thought of them as well-rehearsed sales pitches, but it probably does a lot to teach a person to keep their identity grounded in being a Christian and to view all events in life as part of some Christian narrative. I also wonder if, in the attempt at getting better at better at offering testimony, that people could very well falsify their own life stories – exaggerate their pre-conversion problems or moral failings, transform periods of religious indifference into outright rebellion, create completely false accounts of ‘spiritual warfare’ where supernatural forces attacked the devout believer.

    I have found that among evangelicals, who stress a ‘personal relationship with Jesus’ the demands for what constitutes proof of this personal relationship is pushed pretty high, but if they could doubt your relationship, then all of them are suspect since it’s clear you lived and breathed this for years.

  • John Moriarty

    Dan, the reason I love your writing so much, is that I would have already written every word you have written, if I had your talent. You are telling my story as well as your own, only far better, and I suspect many others will nod in agreement. Well done bro!

  • http://www.reason-being.com ReasonBeing

    Well done Daniel. This whole series has been great. In my experience, many Christians seem stunned to learn that I once counted myself as one of them. I find that it at first disarms them a bit…they can’t use some of the standard lines to convert me back, they can’t say that I don’t really understand it…at least at first. I do still get the “well you must never have really been a Christian” from time to time, which like you I (and certainly my family) find offensive.

    I think stories like yours need to get out. Many Christians need to know that life is okay when they walk away. Many need the strength to accomplish this. Your stories and others are just what is needed. If you ever get a second, I would love it if you would write a shorter version on the “Share Your Road To Atheism” page on my blog. I only say shorter due to your time constraints, if you want to go long, that would certainly be okay with me.

    Great job and Thanks for writing such a well thought out series.

  • Stacy

    Thank you, Daniel, for putting yourself out there and fully explaining your process of deconversion. I too was born into a family of evangelical Christians and have, myself, gone through a somewhat similar process over the past 20-plus years. I have witnessed far too much hypocrisy within my own family, in particular, and among religious leaders and congregation members, in general, to believe in or be a part of this antiquated belief system. Thank you for putting into words so much of what I have thought and felt for so long!

  • http://TheBereanObserver Bob Wheeler

    If the alternative to Christianity is Nietzsche, or anything else that philosophy offers, I’ll stick to Christianity, thanks just the same.

  • Jake

    So, I stumbled upon this blog last night, and I started with your list of 10 tips of reaching out to believers. After reading a couple of more articles, I just want to say that I think the internet has become a much better place because of this blog. And even though we do have some fundamental differences (I am a Jew, both culturally and religiously), I am incredibly impressed by what you have to say, and I greatly appreciate you actually taking the time to write for this blog and share the things you have to say. And I also find myself relating to you in other ways. See, when I first came out as a gay man, I had no role models or gay friends or anyone I could talk to, except for people who wrote on the internet, and people who aim to become role models in their community through the use of the internet, regardless of stance or ideology, are always going to be people I respect. In regards to this topic, well, I haven’t had many positive experiences with atheists in the past. But this blog definitely taught me of the good atheists do and that there are plenty of decent ones out there that have a lot of good things to bring to the world. This blog will definitely be going in my bookmarks, and I hope to see plenty of good stuff coming soon.

  • Joe__S

    What is the distinction between knowing “how earnestly and pureheartedly we wanted to believe” and “at one point did believe”?

    As a convert from atheism to Christianity I would say I believed even though I did not want to believe (continuing to accept there was a entirely non-supernatural explanation for why I believed).

  • conrad

    there is some good in Christianity but it is offset by all the hate they express for anyone outside their circle of believers. tolerance for the other is not accepted.

  • http://www.symphonyofdissent.wordpress.com Daniel Ortner

    I really enjoyed looking at some of you blog posts about your “deconversion.” I was raised Jewish but during college went through a two-year period of intense atheism.

    I just want to say that life is full of unexpected moments. When an atheist, I never imagined that I would find faith again. When I did, it came in the most unexpected way. I found Christ’s true church. What I realized looking back on my experiences is that had I not gone through a bout of atheism I never would have accepted. I witness that god knows us better than we know ourselves and that ultimately all out experiences will be for our good and give us experience.

    I know you think that you are now forever a ‘non-believer’…. But if you keep following your conscience and seeking for meaning and truth it will eventually lead you back to God and back to Christ.


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