Path Pebbles Series: Why I’m… an Atheist 1.01 – The Bible is a House of Cards
More than a year ago, I posted my Remembering 9/11 Ten Years Later blog. I tried to explain in a relatively small space how that tragic day had made me an atheist, but looking back I’m not very satisfied with how I told that story. I had the highlights, but to an outsider, I’m sure that was all they got. One morning believer; next morning atheist. The truth is more muddled. That post was also my first attempt at bringing my atheism into the public, and potentially to people who know me in real life (SCARY!), so I felt like I had to say as much as possible. I failed on both fronts; I didn’t really make things public and I wasn’t really clear. So, for my first Path Pebbles post, I want to start to break the story of my atheism down a little bit further, but not attempt to tell the whole story (which is a continuing journey). This will be the tale of one reason out of many why I’m no longer a Christian, and why I am in fact, an atheist. There will be more pebbles thrown into the path in the future, but here is one that’s rather large.
When I was a believer, my goal was always to seek the Truth about God’s plans and intentions through my acceptance of the Holy Spirit and study of The Word (aka the Bible, specifically the New Testament).
Hold Me Closer Tiny Dancer
Elton John sings Tiny Dancer
I was raised a Lutheran. When I was in middle school, my church got a new youth director, and I began participating in youth group. A lot. As a result of their encouragement and lessons, I tried not to adhere to any specific dogma. What mattered was the truth; not specific doctrine. I called myself Christian or Spiritual, not Lutheran or Religious. I read the bible nightly before bed, and at all other times, I really wanted to understand what God wanted from me, and follow through accordingly. I would have done anything… anything for Him. I even remember having dreams (fantasies???) of suffering on His behalf… maybe being falsely accused of a crime and spending a life in prison. It’s not that I wanted that, but I thought a sacrifice like that might bring purpose to my life, which I felt was meant for greatness. To someone who’s never believed as I did, this may seem crazy. It’s not as unusual as you might think for someone as wrapped up in God’s spell as I was, despite leading a relatively normal life outside. I was a Jesus Freak who wasn’t all that freaky. Quiet, introverted, afraid of her own skin, and full of teenage angst, yes, but relatively normal. I got along with most people in my school, though I wasn’t popular, I wasn’t unpopular either. If someone asked me about God, I would gladly discuss Him (and I discussed God insatiably in youth group itself), but I didn’t go around wearing “Jesus Saves” t-shirts, and warning of damnation lest you repent. I might have thought it, but I tried not to be too weird in a What Would Jesus Do kind of way in public. My point is, you probably know people who are like my teenage self, and not think twice about them.
God’s Word Has Typos?
So the big question I always struggled with in my attempt to understand God’s intentions was: Is the Bible the inerrant Word of God, or is it merely inspired by God, not meant to be taken literally? The thought that it might be completely un-supernatural never really occurred to me, and if it did, I would quickly banish the thought. For most of my time as a fervent Christian, I would have answered that the Bible is not inerrant, or at least that many of the fantastic stories within it (like the 6 Day Creation of the World; Noah’s Ark; Jonah and the Whale) were metaphors and not meant to be taken literally. I thought I believed in science (though I would later learn how pathetic my scientific understanding and critical reasoning skills truly were), so I believed that the evidence proved the earth was old… very old. Billions of years old, not created in 6 days, and certainly older than 6,000 years (as many Creationists believe is biblically based). In addition to the impossible Bible math, I also accepted that the Bible had contradictions, or needed to be taken in the context of the writer’s time. This never troubled me much. So, that forced me to understand the Bible not as perfect fact, but as a collection of inspired stories to help me along a path to understanding God’s will, not as an exact road map.
For a time, that worked for me.
But somewhere along the way, I began to question… Why would God need to write in metaphor? For that matter, why would he need to write through humans? Why couldn’t he plainly explain to all humans in an instant (for eternity) what he expected? Surely an omnipotent agent had that kind of power. It would not negate “Free Will.” It would merely be the same courtesy any good parent gives their child: Here are the rules. Break them and XYZ will happen. No guesswork, no interpretation, no need to be infused with the Holy Spirit like some religious lottery game of eternity. Just tell us what we need to know and hold us accountable. Why play games for something as important as my eternal soul, and the souls of billions of others? It made no sense. Clearly, the Bible was not the perfect Word of God. But if it wasn’t, how could one accept some pieces as worthy, and some not? How could so many well-intentioned, prayer-full people read scripture and get such different results in analysis?
And the Walls Came a Tumblin’ Down
Once I made a determination – that the Bible either must be perfect or it can all be subject to disputable interpretation – it was only a matter of time before the Bible’s House of Cards tumbled down more easily than the Walls of Jericho. If the Bible was not perfect (and it wasn’t), nothing in it could be trusted as a guide for understanding God’s wishes. All of it could be easily dismissed of any moral obligations.
From that point on, my unbelief was inevitable, but still a ways off. It would take several more pebbles in my path to bring me all the way to blasphemy. I hope to get to many of those eventually.
Cheers,
PersephoneK
