The objective I chose to describe my goal is especially fun:

OBJECTIVE: To obtain a position within Company Name that will further God’s Kingdom and Company’s ministry…

Yeah, I still work at this job. Must. Edit.

"Angel of Grief" Glenwood Cemetery, Houston, TX (photo by teejayfaust)

A former coworker of mine just lost his sister to cancer after years of riding the rollercoaster of hope and fear. His love for her inspired me, and it reminded me acutely of what it was like to watch a family member die from the disease.

I have only experienced fresh grief as a Christian. My father died in 2003, and I sought comfort and peace in the hope that he was “in a better place” and free from pain, experiencing the joy and bliss he always desired in life. He was a very passionate believer, and he would always tell me we’d “be together again” when my time was up. I found this to be very soothing and helpful, because I didn’t want to let him go. I wanted more time with him, and I desperately wanted him to be healthy again. I was so fearful of being separated forever. Magical solution? Heaven. Duh.

I’ve never lost a loved one as an atheist, so I honestly can’t speak to what it feels like to say goodbye to someone knowing we will never be together again. I imagine this could be a healthy, helpful way of letting someone go, processing the loss, and moving forward. Is that so?

What matters most to me now is understanding someone’s role in my life and how that helps me be a better person. That way, they live on in me, through me. My father is part of me down to my very DNA. He’s gone, but he has a legacy that affects me and every single person I encounter. I am very fortunate to have had such a great life with him while it lasted. Isn’t that what grief should be about?

What about you?

We can all can talk a good game about how great it is not to be oppressed by the burden of hell, yada yada… but only someone who has actually experienced a loss can talk about what grief is like.

Has anyone out there experienced intense grief as both a faithful religious person and as an atheist? How did your experiences differ on a personal level? Could you share with as much transparency as possible (as you feel comfortable)? Were both healthy experiences? Was one more comforting than another? When someone says “It doesn’t matter if so-and-so has faith in Heaven if it comforts them,” do you agree or disagree?

Hell yeah, Randall.

Something Personal

When my father was fighting cancer, he (even while being a man of faith and prayer) relied on the advances of medicine and scientific research to fight the disease and keep it at bay as much as possible. Even though he wanted God to heal him, he still knew that medical care and advanced technology would be the most important weapons in the fight.

Now I look back and think, Why did we hope for miracles when we knew medicine would do all the real work? I’m honestly not sure if there are any practical reasons for prayers. When someone you love is dying, you want them to be instantly free of illness and suffering. Who wouldn’t? A miracle is a get-out-of-cancer-free card that no believer would turn down. To faithful Christians like us, we prayed for that easy-out, but we truly trusted in the doctors, the chemotherapy, and all of the other treatments used that were backed by tested science.

When praying for healing, you never know if you’ll be heard or if it will ever happen. There can be no reasonable expectation or time table; healing either happened or it didn’t, and sometimes a “miraculous healing” looked just like something explained just fine by science anyway. So when a loved one is ill or dying, you can feel free to hope for an immediate improvement, but trust in those who have tested treatments and medicines that you know can help. Even if your loved one does die, you can at least be thankful that it wasn’t your fault, your lack of faith, or anyone’s relationship with a deity that was at fault.

Science works, bitches!

comic by Ken Fager

After my family stopped attending Catholic mass regularly and started frequenting a Presbyterian church, I discovered the absolute delight of “Communion Sundays,” which were only once a month. I loved the tiny little plastic cups passed around in fitted brass plates. After sipping up the grape juice, I would do the classy and mature thing by sticking my tongue into the cup to get every last drop from the bottom. I’d suction it onto my tongue, waggle it around, and make silly faces at my friends until an adult noticed and I had to busy myself with the bulletin or something.

My favorite part of Communion Sunday was the bread. I loved that bread. I sometimes called it “3-D Jesus” because it was in a small cubed form instead of the flat, bland wafers we used to dissolve on our tongues at mass. No crackers or matzo here, just soft cubes of a dead guy.

The best thing about this bread was its taste: it was sweet like buttered honey and it fairly melted into your teeth like a soft candy. Jesus tasted damn good. I once tried to take more bread from the passing plate, but I felt ashamed that someone might see, so I contented myself with just one tiny square of Jesus.

Now that it’s not even symbolically holy and I still remember the scrumptious taste of that bread on my tongue, I very much want to eat it again—but in mach larger quantities. Did they buy it or bake it? Is this a common communion food among protestant churches? I’ve googled “sweet communion bread recipe” and not come up with anything particularly enticing.

If you’re out there, Jesusbread baker, can you give me your recipe? I want some with a little honey on top. Like, now. I’m starving.

photo by Rachel Ford James

The Free-for-All Bookshelf here at work is a little bit tighter now, stuffed with my newest donations. I just emptied a big white crate filled with some of my most precious possessions as a Christian: books. I’ve had this collection sitting in my car trunk for over a year. It went with me on vacations, to-and-from work, and I just tried to ignore it when I packed my groceries or stuffed my suitcases into my little Mazda.

What was I waiting for? I’d already purged a large percentage of my Christian books in 2008 when I discovered (or, more accurately, admitted) my atheism. Everything from Bible studies and self-help to fiction and humor was either tossed in the recycling for good or donated to Goodwill for people to pick through if they gave a damn.

But this crate–this generic white crate that always pinched my fingers when I carried it–was the spiritual and emotional luggage from my religious past all in one place. Some of my most beloved titles were in there:

• The Cost of Discipleship and Life Together by Deitrich Bonhoeffer. Bonhoeffer was always able to touch the part of my dreams that desired depth, thoughtfulness, community, and courage.
• A Simple Path by Mother Teresa. I always loved her writings and even considered converting to Catholicism after reading what she and Therese of Lisieux had to say about love and its purity of devotion. I was attracted to the sweetness and passion I saw in their words.
• The Ragamuffin Gospel by Brennan Manning. I’m almost embarrassed to leave this book in the hands of a stranger. I scrawled notes and highlighted so many passages of this book that it’s practically a public confessional of my most formative years as a Christian (which happened to be some of my last years, so it turns out). I dove into this book with such emotional transparency that it makes me blush just to read it again.
• Rich Christians in an Age of Hunger by Ronald Sider. I challenge all believers to get this book and take it to heart.
• Restoration and King of the Jews by D. Thomas Lancaster. I went through a long, passionate phase as a Messianic believer in what might be called the torah-observant movement when these books about the unity between “old” and “new” portions of the Christian Bible meant a great deal to me. It truly changed the kind of Christian I was.

And these are just a sampling of the types of books that influenced me in my multi-faceted religious life. I admit, I still have an emotional connection to them. Like many people who seek comfort and guidance during rough times, these types of books were a help for me when I was grieving, curious, and alone. But like many former Christians I know, I’m now able to look back on those tools and texts and see them for another perspective, with the “veil” of faith and myth pulled away from my eyes.

It was difficult placing them on the shelf today, but I am glad and relieved to have already left those old beliefs and delusions behind. Not everything that makes us feel good or helps us through a tough time is true or correct. I’m sure if I had been non-religious during those years that I would have come out just fine all the same. I’m glad I had a searching and curious mind that was fascinated by those volumes but also able to see more to life than belief in a non-existent god.

What items have been hard for you to part with over the years? Items from past relationships? Books? Habits?

I'm considering a 'terrible t-shirts' post one day. Isn't this classy? And gross?

I should not own three laundry baskets, but all those clothes have to go somewhere! One is dedicated to dirty laundry, but two entire baskets were stuffed with crumpled up linens and old shirts and sweaters. After I moved from my old apartment, the “should be sorted sometime” collection had nowhere to hide. I kept staring at it when I grabbed my outfit for the day out of my closet. My inability to purge a simple clump of clothing nagged the back of my mind. Maybe I really am that lazy. The fact that I’m sneezing right now from the musty smell is my admission of guilt.

Some of the clothing can be washed and salvaged for future rotation, but I’m ashamed to say my dig through the baskets tonight was like extracting core samples from the depths of earth’s history. The further I dove, the older my memories associated with each piece of clothing.

So to share a bit of my life with you, here is my list of tops I’m throwing away tonight:

Third Day “Truth Gomer” (2001): The fans of the Christian band Third Day call themselves Gomers, after a song and woman in the Bible. Gomer became a last name of sorts, and each Gomer registered a first name to go along with it. After you registered, they sent you a bright orange t-shirt with “Property of ____ Gomer” on the front. You took a permanent marker and wore your Gomer name in the blank space. My name was Truth Gomer because my ideal in life was to always tell the truth and seek the Truth as much as possible. Look where that search landed me?

Gospel Choir (2001): My alma mater had a black gospel choir, and I sang alto and tenor (hell yeah I said tenor). It was some of the most fun I had in college. For concerts on campus, we wore bright, bold t-shirts with bold words like “GRACE”, “FAITH”, and “SOUL” emblazoned on the front. I cut my yellow one off at the bottom because I was “edgy” and it was too tight around my hips. Apparently t-shirt dresses were in style and nobody knew it.

Hard Rock Cafe: Memphis (2002): I went on a mission trip to Memphis, TN in 2002 for my spring break. We traveled for Jesus, not for booze! We helped some families with manual labor and went witnessing in the poor parts of the city. I used to collect Hard Rock Cafe t-shirts from every city I visited. This shirt was especially cool because it had a puffy, sparkling flaming electric guitar on the back. I wore it everywhere! Want to know what my strongest memory is from that trip? The splinter-shedding bunk beds and how my tonsils swelled up so large that everyone felt the need to comment on how loudly I snored. Snoring for Jesus, I guess…

The shirt I ruined while having sex on the laundry room floor (2007): Well, not the actual top, but its twin. I bought the yellow blouse specifically for the date I was on; I loved that silly shirt (best boob day ever). Perhaps as a result of this wonderful boob day, my over-zealous (ex-)boytoy ruined it in a smear of detergent. I purchased another one to replace it, and made sure that it didn’t get any similar stains. Hey Mom, I hope you’re not reading this!

I am ecstatic about moving on from the person I was during each of those periods of my life. Nostalgia is amusing and sweet, but I’m done. Good memories, all of them. But good riddance all the same!

I do not enjoy reading about philosophy or logic.
I have not mastered true rational thought, and I probably couldn’t explain it to you without quoting someone else.
I still don’t know where I stand on a lot of issues, and I am often a poor representative of any position.

I am a normal mid-twenties woman with a job, internet addiction, and flabby thighs.
I read more fiction than non-fiction, love random factoids, and I only follow the news I find most interesting.
I like to make dirty jokes and curse like a sailor.
I’m overly curious, not afraid of emotion, personal, and very opinionated.
I adore deep conversations about experience, ideas, theology, and life.
I have a 4-year Bachelor’s degree in Communications and a minor in Creative Writing. I think this just means I like words.

I left faith because I am your normal everyday thinking chick with an itch to know herself and her place in this life. I used to be called wise and thoughtful about the bible and faith, but now I realize I was and am simply holding small bits of knowledge and insight that hang like loose strings off the coattails of the great thinkers and eloquent writers that have gone before.

I did not read every book I could get my hands on before deconverting. I did not engage in endless debates or request pastoral counseling. I will not pretend that I couldn’t have done more to save my faith. Perhaps with enough devotion and desperation anyone can shut out doubt and curiosity. When I left Christianity, I watched, listened, read, and digested the right things at the right time. Because of this, the light bulb in my head didn’t just turn on; it exploded like a popped balloon. I was ready. Faith was no more.

I am not an authority. I do not blog because I believe I know something you don’t. I’m not here to bring you the latest and hottest news, gain internet stardom, or wax eloquent about the meaning of life. I blog because I like being a part of the community and conversation. I also like hearing myself talk, and that doesn’t hurt.

I am just a woman–a Godless Girl.

Photo by Richard Masoner

It was a Wednesday night and I was on the ground, rolling and gasping for air, laughter coming in wave after wave, cramping all my muscles and pushing tears out of the corners of my eyes. I was lost to the world, convulsing in heavy, wheezing laughs. But I hadn’t heard a good joke nor was I tickled; I was “laughing in the Spirit” and this hysteric guffaw continued for over a half hour straight without breaks.

I was only 13 years old and on a mission trip in rural Appalachia with my (very) non-Charismatic church youth group. I was the only student who had a lot of previous experience with the “gifts of the Holy Spirit”, and the last thing I expected was that these gifts would occur during a Presbyterian prayer meeting. Most of the other attendees were just as shocked as I was. In fact, one girl thought my giggle fit was aimed in a mocking way at other children experiencing emotional times of worship. I couldn’t talk plainly enough to answer her, so she grabbed a glass full of milk and poured it on my head. It didn’t help.

I’m not sure if this group fit was suggested, or if one emotional, weeping child led to someone falling over, which lead to speaking in tongues, dancing, and my personal experience with holy laughter. I may have helped the situation along by telling people that it was God’s Spirit leading us and that speaking in tongues and being slain in the Spirit was great.

Was it a chain reaction? Wanting to fit in? Mass hysteria? Supernatural? How can we know?

One thing’s for sure–the grownup leaders at this prayer meeting lost control over every aspect, and it went much too far. By the next day stories of demon visitations, prophesying, and salvation were filtering all around the camp.

Want to see this “Spirit” in action?

The following clip was edited to show the humor in a pentecostal worship service, but it reminded me so much of the contagious nature of those social situations. Just watch as people fall down as if drunk after hearing the pastor speak about the apostles appearing drunk in Acts 2.

It may be my intuition, but I can look at the faces of many of those audience members and see them thinking about what they’re doing: fake laughter, self-propelled shakes,  flailing, and so forth. This is the kind of behavior that makes me shudder and groan nowadays. See for yourself:

Click here to view the embedded video.

(hat tip to @achura)

Photo by Campin Guy

When you reach eighth grade, you’re at the top of your game: You have an amusing case of senioritis that provides an abundance of confidence and slackitude (yes, that is a word today). Compared to your 7th and 6th grade peons, you’re mature, smart, attractive, and “have it all together”. While they’re still in training bras or hoping a chin hair will suddenly appear, you’re at the top of the food chain, dolling out advice and wisdom to whatever child will take it. You’ve found your niche. You finally feel like you have a voice. Eighth grade was one of the best school years of my life. I loved it.

And then you become a freshman. Suddenly you’re thrust into an unfamiliar environment with people bigger than you who know more about absolutely everything. You can’t even find your way to the water fountain, much less lead a clique or have control over your life. Books are heavier, assignments are longer, and you are suddenly taught something called “critical thinking” (well, in some schools, anyway). Not everyone is like you anymore, and you feel lost, intimidated, and insecure. You have a lot of growing to do. I remember hating my high school for months before I finally accepted the transition into the new environment.

For me, leaving Christianity was a lot like graduating from eighth grade to high school.

My Christian walk had passed puberty: I was experienced, educated, well-rounded, and thoughtful. I studied the Bible voraciously, enjoying theological discussions and asking digging questions. My circle of Christian friends admired my insights, and I easily fit into any group of Christians in which I found myself. I was spirit-filled, excited, and cocksure. My family thought I was going to make an impact on the world for Jesus. I was in the zone, and I loved every second of it!

And then I became an atheist. I left Christianity in a childhood tantrum: kicking and screaming, crossing my arms and stamping my foot in stubborn refusal to change. I was afraid of leaving my comfort zone and having to start all over again with nobody there to be my clique, my support structure, my guide. I didn’t think I possessed an identity without my faith. Who was I? What was happening inside of me? I didn’t like it.

I was very happy being the respected one in my faith-filled circle. Little did I realize just how small I could feel being the one asking all the questions, chanting “I don’t know” like it was my mantra, and constantly discovering ways I needed to mature and expand as a person. It was a reality check that has never stopped. I had to face being inexperienced and awkward all over again. I admired the people whom I read and listened to; they seemed like the juniors and seniors in the school of atheism. They were mature, knowledgeable, and skeptical thinkers. I longed to be more like them! I still do.

I am still a freshman in many ways, but I’ve finally calmed down about the transition from “pompous know-it-all” to “itty bitty newb”. I’m not trying to hold onto faith any longer–I’m emancipated and ecstatic! I feel the same passion and eagerness to learn and discuss as I ever did. My brain has never been more full. Not only do I keep the knowledge I had as a Christian, but I also have a new way of examining what I’ve learned and a new appreciation for those studies. Life is good. (And now I can at least find the drinking fountain.)

I soon learned that he and his partner were quite the normal couple with problems, insecurities, and hard work. Our experience ended up showing me that I was not inclined to take part in a polyamorous relationship, especially as “the other woman”. I was too selfish, insecure, and I treasured exclusivity too much to be prepared for that type of experience. I did not feel secure, trusting, nor loved. Perhaps this was his fault; perhaps it was the situation. Maybe it was me!

And although it did not work out, the relationship caused me to wonder: If we’re perfectly healthy emotionally and mentally, are we more inclined to be monogamous or to have multiple love partners? Does it depend on the individual? What is the reason for jealousy and the desire for security? What makes us cheat? Could having an open relationship help a couple? Or does it harm them in the long run? Is it only about sex?

Survey says..!

I recently polled my Twitter pals about the titillating topic of open relationships. Keep in mind that most of my tweeps are non-religious folks from all walks of life. If you’d like to respond, please comment! I’m fascinated by the variety of opinions and research on this topic.

Let’s see what they had to say using 140 characters! I’m keeping things anonymous to conserve their privacy.

Part A: “What do you think about open relationships?”

They’re ok, if you can handle that sort of thing. don’t think I could though.

I think whatever people can make work for them relationship-wise is fine by me, I’ve seen open relationships work out fine. [cont.] I think in a way Open Relat. may be easier, as there r far less boundaries 2 worry about crossing, no fear of being cheated on.

Not for me. [x2]

Whatever works for two (or three, or four…) consenting adults is none of my business whatsoever!

I like them! I think they’re much more realistic than what you’re told to expect, relationship-wise.

Not a big fan, but my ex-wife was a fan.

Read more and check out Part B on Monogamy vs. Polyamory below the cut!

Interesting idea, but I don’t think it would work for most people. [cont.] Could erode intimacy… I’m rather interested in others’ opinions on this. I’ve given a little thought to it before…

Open relationships: Nice in theory, in my experience doesn’t work. Jealousy is eventually unavoidable. [cont.] Unfortunately ;-P Monogamy is, in my experience, safer and healthier for all concerned!

Free love! [cont.] after all marriage is a chattel contract isn’t it?

If both partners are comfortable and safe about it, I don’t have a problem. Given the right circumstances, I could be in one.

Open relationships = You’re not my first choice, I’m checking my options, and I can’t stand the thought of being single.

Intellectually It seems like it shouldnt be a problem if its agreed upon and both want it. But…. [cont.] If I was it was early in a relationship, so that it was not serious yet, no heavy emo. attachment yet,.. that might be fine.

As long as the relationship’s rock solid first and both sides have ironed out their jealousies, they can be fantastic.

Good in the short, impossible to maintain longevity. Less the relationship takes backseat to other benefits.

I think any couple can create a future into which they are willing to live. If they are aligned on ‘open’ then it’s OK. [cont.] W/O alignment on goals and possible futures, relationship is in trouble, open or not. Relationships don’t have to look one way.

Open relationships are fine if both parties are safe and aware, but it’s definitely, 100% not for me. I’m a monogamous penguin.

Arguably an evolutionary view has males as promiscuous but not females. However, it’s in our interest to protect our children.

*  *  *

Part B: “Do you think humans are naturally monogamous or polyamorous?”

Neither.

Though I am open to all relationship types I think *most* are naturally monogamous, a sense of belonging to one special person

If we were naturally monogamous everyone would be monogamous. It doesn’t follow natural patterns, survival needs, or history.

I think part of what makes us human is being able to decide what’s going to cause less harm, whatever our pesky hormones want.

I think it depends on the person

That’s a tricker question. I think we evolved into monogamy. With emotions comes love and monogamy. If not, it’s just sex.

I think most people are serial polygamist, having only one lover at a time.

Humans are no longer naturally anything. That’s the problem.

Polyamourous

Is there any doubt which group men, me included, belong: P

Humans are not monogamous. Anthropology 101.

There’s no “think” about it. Any biologist or anthropologist worth his/her salt will tell you humans are not monogamous.

I think most men – naturally – prefer one life partner and multiple sex partners! [cont.] One problem is that people conflate “monogamy” and “long-term pair bonding.” Not the same thing. [cont.] I mean humans and other animals can and do form long-term or lifelong pairs that aren’t necessarily sexually exclusive.

Definitely not monogamous but humans have the capability (through reasoning) to remain so. There is no doubt that sex drives us

Either way, they’re fucked.