…There’s No Heaven

Blaise Pascal believed that it is best to err on the side of the existence of god, because if god is not real, what have you lost by believing in him?  Pascal’s Wager has been presented to me on many occasions since becoming an atheist.  I have lots of responses actually, and one of them came to mind while I was at a charity event a couple of weeks ago.  As fate would have it, I ran into two Christian couples that used to be very good friends of mine.  We went on vacation together; our kids hung out together.  We shared happiness and heartache.  We truly depended on one another.  Of course, that all changed once I gave up Christianity and divorced.  Both couples virtually disappeared from my life.  The last conversation I had with one of the wives was when she told me the reason she didn’t invite me to her daughter’s wedding was because it was going to be a “Christian” wedding and she was “afraid of what I would do.”   The last time the other friend spoke to me was when she told me that she took it personally when I stopped going to church.  The last time I ran into her, she pretended like she didn’t recognize me and turned away.  I was friends with both husbands as well, but because I am now single AND a nonbeliever, I am doubly dangerous in their wives’ eyes, perhaps theirs too.  To be fair, this time both of these couples were more than pleasant to me.   Maybe it was because I was with my man and in a public place. I’m not sure. My friend, that hadn’t invited me to the wedding, insisted that she would love to get together with me and would call.  In my experience, this doesn’t happen. I’ve heard that so many times from old Christian friends, to no avail.

This got me thinking.   Christians believe that in order to get to Heaven, you must believe and trust in Jesus Christ for your salvation.  I do not.  Worse than that (In their eyes), I once professed to believe in all that, but no longer do—making me an apostate. Because of this, they believe they will never see me in their heaven. My Christian friends know this all too well.  They insist that they still want to remain friends, spend time with me, still love and care about me, but I never hear from them.  They continue to have parties and do fun things; I’m never invited.  Here is my point:  If they really do love and care for me and they really believe they will never see me on the other side, why don’t they want to spend as much time as they can with me, in the here and now?  I mean, if they really want to spend time with me and they know time is short, why don’t they?  The same could be asked of my sister and my mother.  I know they believe I won’t be in their heaven and yet they do not speak to me or try to mend our relationship.  The only conclusion I can come to is that they really only loved and cared for me because I believed in the same god as them.  Now that I no longer do and am open about it, they do not want me around.  Every thing I was:  My sense of humor, my wit and sarcasm, the desire to have fun at all costs, everything that made me, me, well that has somehow become moot.  They can’t enjoy my company anymore. I’m sullied. You know what though?  It’s their loss.  I was a good friend, a fun friend, a generous and kind friend and sister and daughter.  They don’t get the benefit of that any more.  Others do now.

So, what does one have to lose by believing in God?  The answer is simple:  Relationships, for one—deep, abiding, loving, and simply enjoyable relationships.  That is one of the prices people pay for believing in a nonexistent god.  I’m not willing to pay that price, but that’s just me.

Case in Point

It’s interesting that just after I wrote about the shallowness of the phrase “I love you”  in the Christian church, I encountered that very thing on my facebook page.  After posting a status that was a little critical of a certain Bible Study teacher and author earlier today, a couple of Christian friends from the past commented.  Now, they aren’t my facebook friends, but for some reason when I post from my phone, it goes public and so they must be “following” me, because they saw it.  I felt bad that they had seen it.  I really did, but it was not intentional.  I don’t try to piss Christians off as much as I used to and that is why I deleted most of my Christian friends from facebook–to spare myself and them unwanted stress.   That’s not really the story though.  The story is that this morning they both professed love for me.  They both said in their comments today that they loved me.

At first I thought, “Aw, they love me,” and then I remembered.  I remembered the emptiness of those words, when they come from Christians like that. You see, I know both of these particular women were fully aware that I had stopped attending church.  Heck, I sang on the worship team with one of them on a regular basis. I also know that they were aware when my marriage was falling apart.   During that time though, I heard nothing from either of them.  They never wrote a quick note, picked up the phone, or made any attempt at all to see if I was okay or needed anything, but now…they “love” me.  Emptier words…emptier words…

Emptier Words…Part 2

Yesterday, I talked about how shallow the words “I love you” can be and how evident that shallow love is in the Christian Church.  Today, I want to concentrate on more empty words: “I will be, I have been, or I am, praying for you.  Now, I realize that some people actually do pray for people after they say those words, (I’ll set aside the reality that prayer doesn’t work) but I have found that most church-going Christians say, “I am praying for you,” and then first, never do, and second, do nothing tangible for the person they are “praying” for, simply because they have already done their part by “praying.”  In my experience, it’s a lot like, “I love you,” in the sense that, like I love you, they think by saying “I’m praying for you,” their work is done.    I could give you many, many examples, but I’ll just mention a few, because those who have been in the Christian world know what I say is sadly true.  Heck, I did it myself and had many Christian friends admit the same. Even if we did pray about it, that would usually be as far as it went.  We had done our part, right?

I’m sure that’s what my sister was thinking when she sent me a scathing letter, basically ripping me to shreds and then telling me she loved me and was praying for me.  I guess that was a double whammy of empty words!  Did she call me and ask me to go have lunch or just hang out, or if I needed anything?  No, she turned her back on me—wouldn’t even have me in her home–but I took comfort in the idea that she loved me and was praying for me—right.

When my son was in the ICU, suffering from a brain injury, I sat there, for the most part, alone.  When, after having no sleep for two days, I stopped by the school to let the principle (a devout Christian, by the way) know how he was doing.  Granted, he hadn’t called to ask, but I thought he would want to know.  Finally, he took time to talk with me, and after I told him how things were going, he said, “Well, I’ve been praying for him.”  Exhausted, I looked at him, and although I didn’t say anything, I remember thinking, “So that’s what empty words feel like.”  I said, “Thank you,” and wanted to vomit.

During that time, after growing weary of “I’m praying for you” comments on my facebook, I posted a quote there: “Praying is like a rocking chair – it’ll give you something to do, but it won’t get you anywhere.”  You would have thought I had posted that I liked cooking babies and eating them for dinner.  The point of the post was to let my Christian friends and family know that we needed more than their words, but they couldn’t hear me; they were too offended.  The attacks from Christians, during that trying and scary time, were shocking.  My own nephews publically attacked me—saying really hurtful and untrue things to me. It’s still hard to think about, even today.  In some ways I think all the defensiveness posted there was born out of guilt, but I also think they didn’t know what to do when their shallow words weren’t comforting to us.  Maybe they were nervous that they might have to do something outside of their comfort zone and, of course, Jesus would never endorse such a thing.  Sadly, for the Christian, it was my non-Christian friends that cooked dinner for us and cared for us and I will never forget that.  And people wonder why I want nothing to do with the Christian community.

My final example happened just a few months ago.  I had stopped by my apartment manager’s office (again, another devout Christian) and somehow it came up that my son is permanently disabled by his accident (he has no sense of smell or taste). I told her that we are hoping that medical technology will come up with a way to stimulate the damaged nerves so that they can grow back.  She smiled and said, “I’m going to pray for him.  I believe god can heal him.  …What’s his name again?”  There was so much I wanted to say: “You mean you need to know his name otherwise god won’t know who you are talking about, or do you need to know his name so that you can share the request at prayer group so god will know who they are talking about?”  I thought about saying, “Oh, I never thought of doing that, I’ll tell his neurologist.  He’ll be so relieved, so will my son. Oh, happy day!”  I didn’t say any of those things though.  I did what most non-believers do when faced with shallow religious ignorance.  I said “Thank you,” and walked out, fairly certain she would not pray or even remember my son’s name, for that matter. Some might wonder what I would have wanted her to say.  I have thought about that.  I guess it would have felt good to hear her say, “Oh I’m so sorry. That must be difficult.  I hope he will be okay. Is there anything I can do for him?”  Maybe that’s just too intimate for the Christian to say—too real.

So FYI dear Christian, when you say, “I’m praying for you,” to a non-believer, we hear “I’m going to go talk to myself about that later.”  We want to see and feel care, not hear it.  We’re kind of evidence based.  We’re weird like that.

Emptier Words…

After a recent encounter with my mother, I got to thinking about how shallow words can be and just how prevalent that shallowness is in the Christian church, where love, true love, is supposed to abound.  Here are two examples that came to mind: 1) I love you, and 2) I am, or have been, praying for you.  Today, I want to focus on the first one: “I love you,” Now, back to my mother.

When I first started this post, I found myself going into every sordid detail of the past two years involving my relationship with my mother.  I suppose it was cathartic, and in some ways I wanted others to understand just how horrible her behavior has been, but no one else needs to read all that.  So let’s just say she would tell me that she loved me “unconditionally,” but then act as if she wished I did not exist. To date, she has no idea why I gave up Christianity and she has no idea why my marriage of 24 years ended.  She claims to not understand the changes that have taken place in my life, but continues to refuse to discuss them with me and continues to basically ignore me; yet, she contends that she loves me “unconditionally.”  Maybe it’s just me, but isn’t that something you say to someone who has done something really horrible and you want to let them know that in spite of that, you love them? Otherwise, why would you feel the need to add the “unconditional” caveat?

Anyway, we are officially “estranged.” Our last conversation ended with my mother saying, “I love you and always will,” (At least she didn’t say “unconditionally” this time) to which I responded,  “Emptier words have never been spoken to me mom.”  She countered:  “So be it.”  Now, if one of my daughters had said something like that to me, I would have been devastated and done everything in my power to make things right.  Not my mom, my Jesus loving mom.  I picture her saying “So be it,” and then skipping off,  tra la la la la.  She had done her duty as a Christian mother.  ~The End.

Over the past few years, I can’t tell you how many Christians have told me they love me; this would include my sister, as well as my mother.  In spite of all this “love,” they have been absolutely absent from my life.  Well to be fair, they did show up occasionally, usually to crush my fingers as I clutched weakly to the edge of the emotional abyss, but mostly they were absent.

The thing about Christians is they think that by merely saying they love someone, they have done all they need to do.   This has not been my experience alone; it is wide spread. I saw it in my daughter’s youth group.  They would tell her they loved her, but when she was struggling and needing love the most, all she had was words.  They couldn’t be bothered with any awkward problems.  They needed to plan the next trip to Mexico, or make their next promotional video.  The sad thing about that is these youth leaders are teaching the young people to do the same thing—how to give Christian lip service.  They model the very idea that saying I love you is enough, nothing more needs to be done, and they wonder why young people are leaving The Church in droves.  I used to see the same thing on Sunday mornings in the worship service, during the “meet and greet” time—words of love were everywhere.  There was no love, just words—empty, empty words.  Don’t get me wrong.  I’m not saying that Christians are incapable of love.  They love, but most of the people they express love to, they couldn’t care less about.

Love should be an act, not a word.  As a non-believer, that is the way I want to live my life.  My daughter recently said to me, “Mom, if you never told me you loved me again, because of the way you love me, I would still know beyond the shadow of a doubt that you did–more than anything.”

That, my friends, is love.

Footprints

Wow, I haven’t been here for a while.  Not even a 30-Day-Challenge could keep me honest.  You wait though, because I am going to blog 30 in a row.  I really am!   Anyway, I just got back from a few days in Laguna Beach.  It was an incredible time I have to say.  I didn’t realize, until I was there, just how badly I needed a beach fix.  I did gain some insights while I was there and I will share them with you in the next couple of blogs.

The first one hit me as I was walking alone on the beach.  As I looked back and saw the long trail of footprints I left behind, it called to mind that poem.  You know the one, “Footprints.”  It’s where “The Lord” tells the poet that when there was only one set of footprints in the sand,  He (god) was carrying them through their most challenging times.  As I considered my own lone footprints, I thought, “That is such bullshit.”  I also thought about how I would revise that “poem” if I could.  I decided that the only thing that needed revising was the last few lines.  Here is the poem with its revisions:

One night I dreamed I was walking along the beach with the Lord.
 Many scenes from my life flashed across the sky. In each scene I noticed footprints in the sand. 
Sometimes there were two sets of footprints; 
other times there were one set of footprints. This bothered me because I noticed
 that during the low periods of my life,
 when I was suffering from
  anguish, sorrow or defeat, 
I could see only one set of footprints. So I said to the Lord, 
”You promised me Lord,
 that if I followed you,
 you would walk with me always.
 But I have noticed that during the most trying periods of my life
 there have only been one set of footprints in the sand.
 Why, when I needed you most, you have not been there for me?”

The Lord replied, 
‘The times when you have seen only one set of footprints in the sand, 
that is when you realized I was never there; I was a figment of your imagination and it was you and only you who stood strong and persevered on your own.  It was your resilience and strength that carried you through. You thought you needed someone bigger and more powerful outside of yourself, but you didn’t.  There was only you.”

Many find comfort in the old version of that poem.  I do not.  It is much more comforting and also empowering to know that we are all we need. We are enough.

Above The Fray

When I have talked about the problems within the Church and religion as a whole, I tend to get the same reaction from Christians—they deflect.   I don’t think there has ever been a situation where a Christian has actually owned the bad behavior that is rampant within the Church.  They always act like the bad things that happen are merely isolated occurrences.  When I’ve shared specific incidences that I and others have experienced in the Christian Church, the typical response from them goes something like, “Oh, I’m so sorry that that happened to you; that’s not representative of true Christianity though.”  It isn’t?  That’s weird because, that has pretty much been my experience.  To that, a finger is usually pointed right back to me.  You know, “Maybe it’s you—perhaps something you have done wrong, because I have just never encountered anything like that.” Words like that, responses like that; they wound and they wound deep.  It doesn’t bring the broken back into the fold, it sends them limping as far in the other direction as they can go.

My point is and has been, for a while now, if there really was a holy spirit that dwelt within Christians, my dear Christian friends, there would be a difference that could be clearly seen within the Church.  The divorce rate, teen pregnancy rate, the victimizing leaders, the shallowness, dishonesty, disloyalty, and bigotry found in the church is staggering, and yet just about every Christian I have brought this up to says, “Well, those things are not representative of true Christians,” and of course, they, personally, are not guilty of such things.  They consider themselves above the fray and, sadly, they take comfort in that.

In some ways I understand this reaction.  If Christians would allow themselves to open their eyes and take a good hard look at their religion, their leaders, and their churches, it would be a bit like seeing behind the scenes at Disneyland.  What they told themselves was reality is really only a fantasy and they have guided their entire lives under the delusion that the Christian Church is the happiest place on earth.  Of course, it isn’t.  Reality, being right in the middle of the fray, showing empathy to those that question their faith, or can no longer believe, rather than sympathizing from afar, that’s being human; that’s what life’s all about.

Oh Yes, I Remember It Well

I was having a conversation with my older son, Rob, the other day and the death of my best friend, Melanie, came up.  She had passed away when my younger son was 4 or 5 weeks old.  Rob began to tell me about the day I received the phone call informing me of her death.  He said that he started questioning God that day, because he knew she wasn’t a Christian and he couldn’t wrap his head around someone as good and kind as Melanie going to Hell.  I was surprised to hear him retell the details of that day—not because of his questioning god, because that would have been understandable, but because he wasn’t there when I got the phone call.  He wasn’t living with us when she died.  If fact, he didn’t come back to visit until my younger son was almost a year old.  It wasn’t that he was lying.  I could tell he truly believed what he was saying.  It could be that he remembered me calling and telling him about her dying or hearing me talk about that day later, but he was not there when it happened and yet he told the story, with great detail, as if he had been.  If I was not positive of the timeline, I would have believed him, without a doubt.

This got me thinking about how unreliable our memories are, which reminded me of when I began to doubt the infallibility of scripture.  When I first started to research the Bible and its roots, I was surprised to learn just how much of the Holy Scriptures came from the oral retelling of the facts and none of it was written down as it was happening, or even soon after.   So, the Bible is based on stories that were passed down from generation to generation. Ever heard of the game telephone? I was also surprised to find out how long after Jesus’s birth, death and resurrection the gospels were written.  There is even debate as to who the true authors of the gospels were–that they could have been written after the disciples were long gone.

That’s just the gospels.  What about the foundation of Christianity, the Old Testament?  I remember a discussion I had with my sister.  I asked her if she knew who wrote the book of Genesis. I wasn’t sure; she didn’t know either. Some say it was Moses, but that wasn’t my point.  I pointed out to her that whom ever wrote it, was not there at creation—couldn’t have been.  So, I asked her, how could Moses have known what happened?  She confidently told me, “God told him.” Hmm…that’s exactly what Joseph Smith and Mohammed say about their revelations.  The truth is that the stories of creation, Noah’s Ark, Sodom and Gomorrah, etc., were stories passed down through families orally.  So, long story, short; if my son creates a false memory from a situation that took place just seventeen years ago, How can anyone believe that the Bible, most of which was written well over 2,000 years ago, is infallible, or reliable at all?  Why don’t Christians think about that?  Why do they continue to live their lives in obedience to this book and most importantly how can they condemn to Hell, anyone who can’t? Maybe I should stop thinking so much…someone actually said that to me once .