by Jonny Scaramanga cross posted from his blog Leaving Fundamentalism
(Editor’s note: Welcome Jonny to NLQ and the SASBN! We’re glad to have you here!)
I recently woke up in the middle of the night, gripped by a sudden panic. What if I’m wrong?
If I’m wrong, I’m going to hell.
I’ve spent the last several years campaigning to raise public awareness of fundamentalist Christian schools that I consider abusive. I went to such a school myself, so I have a dog in this fight. If what they taught me is true, then I have spent these years fighting against God himself.
The fear claws at me for a while, and then in my groggy state I manage to remember some stuff:
If the strict Muslims are right, I’m equally doomed whether I’m a Christian or an atheist, yet that has never given me a moment’s worry in my life. My fear is not spiritual, or rational. It’s cultural.
And anyway, the notion of a just and/or loving God sending me to infinite punishment for finite sins is self-contradictory. It can’t be true.
Panic over, I go back to sleep.
I haven’t believed in God for seven years. I’ve openly identified as an atheist for four of those, but there are still situations where I have flashbacks to my fundamentalist past.
I’ve visited the Natural History Museum in London twice in the last year. It’s a fantastic place for anyone, but it’s incredible if you used to be a Creationist. All this information that most people take for granted is new to me. Reading it is like inhaling oxygen after holding my breath for twenty years.
My first reaction on reading any date older than 4000 B.C. is to start denying it. It’s a reflex. I can’t help it. “Four billion years? They can’t possibly know that! That’s just speculation. How do they know their dating methods are reliable?” The thoughts come piling into my head before I have a chance to engage my brain. Fortunately, scientists have to answer those questions, and their responses are more interesting than “it was a miracle.”
My automatic reaction to my first ten sexual encounters was guilt. Rationally, I knew that sex was nothing mystical. Between consenting adults, it should be a mutually enjoyable experience. But I was conditioned to think that it was only acceptable within a Christian marriage (and even then only within certain limits). I couldn’t turn those thoughts off.
I remember sitting on the edge of the bed as my first girlfriend looked at me.
“You’re sad,” she said, looking at my hunched up body.
“No, I’m not,” I insisted. “I’m glad we did that.” I really wanted it to be true.
“It’s all over your face,” she replied, and she couldn’t help taking it as rejection. The relationship lasted two weeks after that.
But one good thing has emerged from all of this: At least I now question all my beliefs. When I was a Creationist, I didn’t stop for a moment to consider that I might be wrong. I knew I was right. Allowing the possibility that I might be wrong keeps me honest. By making me suppress problems which I knew were real, fundamentalism forced me to be dishonest with myself.
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I’m Jonny Scaramanga. I grew up believing the Bible was the literal Word of God. I was part of the ‘Word of Faith’ prosperity gospel, and I spent my formative years enthusiastically tipping my money into the offering buckets of Rolls-Royce driving televangelists. I went to an Accelerated Christian Education school, and now I mainly blog to raise awareness of these two malignant forces. I’m doing a PhD at the Institute of Education, London, looking at why it is that some people raised with ACE reject the faith, and others remain in fundamentalism.
Follow Jonny at his blog Leaving Fundamentalism
NLQ Recommended Reading …
‘Breaking Their Will: Shedding Light on Religious Child Maltreatment‘ by Janet Heimlich
‘Quivering Daughters‘ by Hillary McFarland
‘Quiverfull: Inside the Christian Patriarchy Movement‘ by Kathryn Joyce