Greatest TL-DR EVER!
My mother and biological father were both agnostics. I don't remember thinking about God too much when I was little. My childhood wasn't a happy period, and there was divorce, violence and abuse. I don't think I had actually ever held a Bible in my hand until I was 11, and it was the Hebrew Scriptures.
My Aunt was a JW, and sometimes she put Watchtower literature into my hands. I don't remember my reaction to the literature. I only remember wanting to understand why it seemed so important to her, but not being able to. My dad took me to a catholic church two times, where we lit a candle for my grandfather who had just passed, though he claims now that he can't remember it.
My mother remarried. My stepfather was Jewish, and my mother converted for marriage. I don't think she ever took it seriously. After my stepfather's father died, he stopped going to the synagogue, claiming that they priced him out. Anyway, I attended Hebrew School for two years. I even had a Bar Mitzvah.
Oddly enough, I now know more about Judaism than I did when I was 14. I memorized the prayers. I did the homework assignments. But nothing penetrated. Hebrew School was an extension of what my stepfather wanted, and I despised the man's presence in my life. The day after my bar mitzvah, I probably couldn't tell you what the 10 commandments were, but I could recite hebrew prayers by heart. It's amazing what kind of pretzels you can tie yourself up into with a little prodding by resentment.
But my first love was science. I was at a seder dinner at my stepfather's mother's house in bayonne, and they had noticed that I spent most of my time in the basement where the library was. I would read all of the texts on astronomy and space and dinosaurs for hours. Understanding very little of the technical scientific jargon, but feeling awed by the visual descriptions of the universe, quasars, supernovae. They told me one night to take what I wanted. I did, procuring as many science texts as I could. I knew there was great knowledge waiting to be revealed to me in those texts. But I did not possess the key to unlocking it. My education was interrupted by moving from jersey city to bayonne, back to jersey city, then to bayonne, then to asbury park. I missed a lot of school and was way behind my classmates.
When I was in high school, a fellow student began to talk to me about Jesus Christ. He told me about hell, and everlasting punishment. He showed me the scriptures concerning these punishments. He showed me prophecies that Jesus had fulfilled. He showed me the prophecy of the 70 weeks. He told me that miracles were common in his church. It was all very convincing, and I went to church with him and his older brother on one stormy thursday night.
I got saved in the youth tent. I was given a bible. We went into the church lobby where the adult service had just ended. "Doggg here, just got saved." Some tall, sweaty black man hugged me, tightly, and didn't let go. "Welcome to the kingdom of God my young brother," he said. Then another man and another hug. And another. And another.
I was told I was born again. My spirit was brand new, recreated. But I didn't feel different. I never fell under the power like I'd seen others in my church do, though I wanted to. I struggled with pet sins the same as before, and felt more sinful than ever, but forged ahead by faith, through fear.
But it seems like I was embraced and hugged all night in that lobby. The people were happy, smiling, glowing. Strange. I had never met a truly happy person before. Not like this. My life was cold, and detached from any good things. My stepfather was abusive. My mom worked two jobs. My father awol. My brother had ran away. And all of these people had a story I could relate to. I was told over and over how God had changed their lives, and taken them out of the cold, and into His warmth. That is what I wanted.
In the next two years, I devoted myself to study of the bible and attending church. I threw out all of my "worldy" music. I prayed for my stepfather, my missing father, my missing brother. I preached hellfire, miracles and fulfilled prophecy, just as it was preached to me the first time. Some of my friends got saved. But I became even more persecuted at home. This was a jewish-agnostic household. I didn't mind. At least now I had a cause, a legitimate reason for persecutions, besides having the wrong last name.
I'll never forget when I showed up for a birthday party at a friend's house. I stood outside with my bible in hand. Someone was going to get saved tonight. Kids stood outside drinking fruit punch and chatting. And then she walked over and said Hi. She was skinny, with long blonde hair, and blue eyes. Hi? Me? Well... hi.
I loved going to church. I loved studying the Bible. But nothing made me feel the way I felt when I was with her. Her life was more a wreck than mine was. Her father was an abusive drunk. Her mother a fundamentalist christian who had tourette's, which made for hilarious ranting about the house.
She would run away after taking a beating, and she'd show up at my door, I would leave with her. We would stay up all night on a stranger's couch or lakeside in my car smoking and drinking beer and making out. How could this be wrong? I had saved her again, and again. How could this be sin?
My christian mentor told me that she was no good. Pray for her, he said. My mother warned me off of her. I didn't listen.
But she started to do hard drugs. She would vanish into newark for days. She spiraled, and was out of control.
All in all, I dated her on and off for years, but it finally ended when she called me one day to come over, apparantly now dating me and another man, and I walked into her house and a life-and-death struggle took place between me and the other guy, who went for a loaded gun in a drawer. The next night my mother's back door was kicked in at 1am in the morning. Some nut, whose own father had killed his own mother, was driving around town armed with a side-arm, looking for me.
She brought big trouble into my life, and in the end, my mentor and my mother was right. I was wrong. That wasn't goodness. She was damaged, and needed something more than any man could give her. I was not God, and couldn't save anybody.
When the dust settled, I was on my own path. I re-read dozens of texts on evolutionary biology. Dawkins. Gould. Ridley. Sagan. My first love was science. I ate up the books, and comprehended them. All of those links that I couldn't connect as a child suddenly locked into place. These books were explaining what I saw in the world around me. They weren't trying to change it, but simply explain and illuminate. I was illuminated.
Around that time, I discovered the internet and aol. I discovered atheism, and agnosticism. I had no idea there were people who rejected theism outright on grounds of reason and logic. In church, we were given little chick tracts, where evolution was attacked as lies. Alternative science was taught. Creationism. 7 literal days. After searching through those texts again, I could see that those chick texts were distorting, misquoting, and boldly misinforming. I could not in good faith align myself with beliefs that called for these tactics.
I always liked to play chess, and found the ICC. They had a religion chat area. I remember arguing after work with the theists. I argued with creationists nightly. And that is my story (although there is much more, including a relationship with one of the channel's activist-atheist female members, but it is already tl-dr, I know). Life was short, brutal, red-in-tooth-and-claw, and nasty. And evolution was blind and indifferent to human suffering and human concerns. And those happy christians had no idea what life was really like outside of their sanctuary, where people generally acted in bizarre and injurious fashion, without rhyme or reason. The world sucked. God didn't exist. Faith was a pacifier. Literal creationism was erroneous. And I was an outspoken, self-proclaimed atheist.
