Below is a guest post by Gayle Jordan. Gayle is a personal trainer and massage therapist. She blogs at Epiphany Health.
How Finding my Fitness led to my Atheism
How Finding my Atheism led to my Fitness
It gives me joy beyond measure to recount mine. It may seem like I’m taking license to have the two branches of my story to run so parallel, but it only seems unusual now, after the fact. At the time, it just happened.
In 2000, I turned 40, mother of 4 teenagers, active in church and community. I was also active in my Southern Baptist Church, a Sunday School teacher, Missions Director, and committed to the faith. And 60 pounds overweight.
The evening of my 40th birthday party, surrounded by friends, I came to the conclusion, which later I began to describe as an epiphany:
That the first 40 years of our life, we can treat our body pretty brutally, and it will respond, for the most part, to the demand; the second 40, however, are quite a different story: we have to treat our body with deep respect and reverence in order for it to respond to the demands of life.
I had attempted diets before, lost a few pounds, then, ad nauseam, reverted to old, comfortable, established habits. Walking into the bookstore left me more frustrated than helped, facing the wall of books in the Health/Fitness section, some of which were in direct opposition to the one right next to it. Fuck that.
This was in the year 2000, when the internet was a toddler, and I spent hours at the public library looking up nutrition information, going directly to the study when I could. I don’t have a medical background, or even a degree that was heavy in science (education), so I had a lot of remedial work to do. Maybe that even worked in my favor since I had to start from scratch understanding human anatomy, physiology, metabolism, nutrients.
For two years I applied what I learned to my routine, tweaked, applied, and tweaked some more. I lost 60 pounds, and became so interested in and excited about my new lifestyle I became a trainer to try to help others struggling with health issues.
Parallel to this information-gathering, exercise-implementing, nutrition-experimenting journey was a gradual, slow, dawning of realization relating to religion. While I had never been an actual creationist, I was a believer of the Bible, an advocate of a personal savior, even a teacher in my church. My view of the beginning of human history was that whether it was Eden or evolution, Goddidit, and resolving the particulars was irrelevant to me.
As I began my study of nutritive science, however, I found that I needed to study our human anatomy and physiology to make sense of the process. That in turn led me to study our evolutionary heritage: what were we to eat to make us truly thrive? What had we eaten for the thousands of years that we did thrive? While the answer was simple: whole, unprocessed, fairly accessible natural foods, the implication was greater. Evolution was an absolute, undisputed by any scientist, and the evidence was abundant. Hmmmm. Not a show-stopper for the faith, but certainly a proverbial chink in the wall.
I visited Christian apologetics sites and read several books trying to reconcile my new acceptance of evolution with the broader picture of my faith. I knew there were Christians who accepted, even embraced evolution, and I was eager to understand how I was to do this. It was completely contradictory to the version of humanity’s beginnings in the Bible. The general explanation was that the events that occurred in Genesis were “poetic”, not literal, that they were representative of God’s relationship to us. Hmmmm. Again. My next question was: When did the poetry end and the reality begin? Noah? Abraham? David? The apologists diverted at this point: some said that during the course of evolution when we became modern humans, the history then became literal. Some said that the poetry continued through most of the Old Testament. But most certainly they all agreed that when Jesus entered the picture, why then it was all literal.
The brevity and simplicity of the paragraphs above belie the drama and torment of the process. In sharing stories with other atheists, I have heard from former believers who left the faith kicking and screaming, who begged God for a word, who didn’t want to be atheists, who fought for years against acceptance of the truth. While mine was not quite so vehement, it was painful, it was sorrowful, it was traumatic, and it was humbling. I had to grieve anew those folks I had only said goodbye to “temporarily” – my grandparents, some friends. I had to recollect every Sunday School lesson I had ever taught with confidence and arrogance. I had to grasp the separation this was going to create with my already fractured extended family. I had to reevaluate my morality. I had to redirect my compassion and drive and creativity and time that for years and years I had devoted to my church.
But do not misunderstand me. Although the journey was unnerving and unknown, it was thrilling and exciting and liberating. My 4 teenage children had been making journeys of their own in the same direction, and we spent countless hours discussing and debating and researching toward the same conclusion. This brought me absolute, sheer delight. Watching their beautiful brains develop their critical thinking skills and refuse to accept dogma made me as proud as their mother as I had ever been.
I love reading former believers’ coming out stories. I love commiserating with the struggles and rejoicing in the victories. I feel the pain of lost relationships and the joy of new discoveries. This is mine. I am honored to share it.