The Deconstruction: Introduction

from here

Some time in or around 2003, I “gave my heart to Jesus” for the third time in my life, except that this time I really meant it. Soon after that night, I met my future ride-or-die, Sonia, at the bakery where I worked, and she took me along to her church where I met my future husband, Alan. While we were dating, Alan told me he dreamed of being a minister, and I told him I dreamed about saving African babies from hell, and together we decided we should definitely marry ASAP so that we could finally have sex and then get on with the task of converting everyone to evangelical Christianity (the one true version of the religion). 

Now, roughly 16 years later, I’m an atheist, although I dislike that word as much as “non-Christian” – it makes theism the default, and I’m not sure who decided theism was the default, or why (though I have my suspicions). My eldest child, Moses, began his life with prayers and Bible stories every night; now, he gets kid-level books about cognitive behaviour therapy and repeated challenges to be curious, to question everything, to practice empathy, and to STOP ACTING LIKE AN ARSEHOLE (at which point he screams, “I HATE YOU AND I HATE MY LIFE!!” Honestly, we’re acing this whole parenting thing). 

My youngest child, Hazel, was five weeks old when Alan and I left the Anglican church, and can’t, therefore, remember what life in the Christian world was like. She did recently say sorry to God after being guided through the “sinner’s prayer” by an eager babysitter, and is now convinced she’ll go to heaven after she dies. I asked her what she could possibly need to apologise for (“You’re five years old!” I cried) and then told her I didn’t believe in heaven or hell. She listed a few of her “sins,” though I remember none of them now; the effort it took to dramatically roll my eyes aaaall the way around must have taken important brain power away from my memory-storing faculties in the moment. She also informed me that if I didn’t believe in hell, I’d certainly be sent there upon my death. I was somewhat shocked to discover that she seemed completely unconcerned by this fact, making it clear in the ensuing chat that she could not care less about anyone else’s eternal destiny so long as, when all is said and done, she ends up in the good place. This episode revealed that a) it’s scarily easy to indoctrinate a child, b) it’s far less easy to un-doctrinate them, and c) Hazel is potentially a sociopath.

What follows is a series of reasons I’m no longer a Christian. It’s a summary of the thinking and reading and processing and talking and worrying that happened between the first two paragraphs, documented for my own holiday-passing pleasure, with the hope that my story will one day entertain (and make sense of a lot for) my children, and that it may also offer solidarity to others who’ve been (or are still) travelling similar paths. It’s not chronological – no part of this process was simple or tidy, and its retelling is even less so. It’s a contradictory combination of dispassionate and ranty; I feel amusement over some of what I used to believe, bemusement over some more, and then heart-racingly angry about the rest of it. 

It picks up on ideas you may have read here before, if you’ve followed my blog for a while (I love you), although I’ve tried not to repeat myself too much (in some cases, I’ve included links to old favourites instead). For those who may need it, I’ve tried to explain particular terms and ideas, although it’s quite possible that even with my helpful definitions, what follows may not make much sense to anyone who’s never been part of the evangelical-Christian world. It’s probably also offensive to those still deep in evangelicalism; this wasn’t written for you, but you’re welcome to read it anyway, if you like.

Alright, disclaimers aside!

Grab your cuppas/bevvies, friends. Here we go.

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Here’s a map of where we’re heading...

Reason 1: I’m too anxious for eternity
Reason 2: I became a mother
Reason 3: I’m a Woman Part 1 and Part 2
Reason 4: I discovered the Bible didn’t have the answers
Reason 5: I realised the world wasn’t black and white
Reason 6: Jesus seemed no more impressive than other humans
Reason 7: Evangelicalism was harmful to my mental health
The Deconstruction: Conclusion 

The Deconstruction by Eels

The deconstruction has begun
Time for me to fall apart
And if you think that it was rough
I tell you nothing changes
Till you start to break it down

And break apart

I’ll break apart

I’ll break apart
Right now it’s going to start
I’ll break apart

The reconstruction will begin
Only when there’s nothing left
But little pieces on the floor
They’re made of what I was
Before I had to break it down

And break apart

I’ll break apart

I’ll break apart
Right now it’s going to start
I’ll break apart

And every block you’ve built on

It’s going to come right out

And break apart

I’ll break apart

I’ll break apart
Right now it’s going to start
I’ll break apart

Right now it’s going to start

I’ll break apart