An Erosion of Faith: Why I Stopped Believing

It was a cold and blustery afternoon, the day I stopped believing in God... Alright, alright - I jest. In truth, I don't remember the day that I stopped believing, nor do I recall any great revelation or occurrance that brought about the change. If anything, I believe it was just a gradual erosion of faith.

Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep

I was raised Baptist. Mind you, we weren't the best Baptists - we didn't go to church every Sunday, without fail, but I do remember getting dressed up and going sometimes. I believe I liked Sunday school. Most children do - it is, after all, a social gathering. You make friends, and it's exciting when you only get to see those friends once in a while. It really makes you want to go.

So I'm pretty sure that I was fond of Sunday school, and I do know that I had my very own Bible. It had a blue leather cover and lots of pictures inside, and it had those tissue-paper thin pages with the colored foil edges that I loved so much. I got it when I was 6 years old - this I remember, due to the fact that I proudly printed my name and "Age 6" inside the cover. I was always fond of writing my name and wrote it inside all of my books. I was less interested in the words within, and far more interested by the pictures and maps and definitions in the glossary.

And I couldn't help but wonder why Jesus always spoke in red - Did that mean he had an accent?

My mother used to make me memorize passages from the Bible. To this day, I still remember: "For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have ever-lasting life," John 3:16 - I used to have to learn new ones, every week, and recite them over and over. Sadly, I'm not sure I really understood half of what I was learning, but it did help my memorization skills. I can also recite Robert Frost, who I'm very fond of ... but I don't pray to him either.

I also had to recite that poem. If your parents are/were religious, you know the one. It was a poem that was, supposedly, meant to be comforting and, yet, it scared the bedickens out of me. On my knees, beside the bed - scary enough because there was a goblin that hid under there...

"Now I lay me down to sleep - I pray, the Lord, my soul to keep
And if I die, before I wake - I pray, the Lord, my soul to take."

I don't know who wrote that, but I put them right up there with Stephen King, when it comes to writers who scared me as a child. Brrr! Such a creepy thing for young children to have to singsong at bedtime!

The Dawning of Questions

I was still young when I began to doubt my faith in God, this I do know, even if I don't know exact dates. It began with things like my parents fighting and my constant praying to God to make it stop. It wasn't until I was much older that I learned about my father's drinking problem - an explanation, although no excuse for the abuse. I would pray to God and promise to try and be a good little girl if he would make it stop but, apparently, God didn't have the time or he didn't hear me. I shudder to think that there were probably times that I believed He didn't think it was important enough to intervene. There's nothing worse, to a small child, than having someone ignore you.

As I grew older, I became quieter and more of an observer, as many children often do. I became more aware of the hypocrisy that was present, not necessarily within the church, but within my own family... and by realizing this, I began to think of many of the other things that were likely going on, that I couldn't see. My father, for instance, seemed such the upstanding member of the church and he was so well-liked by most that met him. However, when he was at home, I bore witness to abuse and to him being less-than-proper around young women that worked for us. He quite often spoke about "putting the Fear of God into [me]." Every step led me further and further away.

Searching Within

Like many teenagers, I was quick to say I didn't believe - not at all. I jumped on the term Atheist, at first, but then I became doubtful of that and decided to say I was Agnostic. Maybe there was something out there... after all, we had the scientific proof of all the life that was teeming within a single drop of pond water. How did we know we weren't the same; our galaxy, little more than another drop in the bucket, perhaps under scrutiny by a larger, far more powerful being.

But was it God?

To me, it seemed vain of us to take this being/power/energy/force and slap a label on it - for us to try and humanize it. I didn't want to say that God, as depicted in the church and Bible, existed - but I didn't want to completely discount the existence of something far more great and grand than ourselves either. This led me, not only to question my own beliefs, but the beliefs of others.

The Unending Circle

Today, I still hold fast to my beliefs that we don't need to put a label on things we cannot comprehend or understand. I have talked to people of many different faiths and to people of all walks of life, and I continue to do so. With each new person I talk to, I keep my heart and my mind open, listening to their thoughts, ideas and beliefs. Some aspects, I agree with and incorporate into my own belief system - others I do not, and I leave them go. I try not to judge others and I believe that, so long as they do not harm other people, there is nothing wrong with letting people believe what they will. After all, there is comfort in faith and, if it gives you comfort and doesn't hurt others, there is nothing wrong with believing in that.

Faith and religion has become an unending study and exploration - one that I enjoy partaking in and discussing with others. That gives me faith and peace, which I believe -ultimately- is what it's all about.