Why I am NOT a member of the coc, part five

After deciding I was a panentheist, I dabbled in different "spiritual" types of thoughts, including, Buddhism, The Law of Attraction, and looking at the workings of the natural world as a kind of magic. Buddhism lite was, and still is, most appealing to me. It is more a way of living and attitude than anything requiring specific beliefs. I also began to watch youtube videos put out by atheists and read atheist blogs. More and more, I began to see that I didn't actually believe the universe was anything more than the sum of its parts. It didn't have some kind of all encompassing consciousness or supernatural elements. I was just reluctant to give up my belief in the supernatural. January 2014, I said to myself, "I guess I'm actually an atheist."

Nothing happened. The world didn't fall apart. I wasn't sad or angry. I was relieved, and I felt as though I had attained a kind of freedom and enlightenment. I didn't know how to tell my husband. He was still very much a christian. In fact, he had recently announced in a bible class that he would kill our children if god appeared to him and told him to. I had been furious with him at that and yelled at him in front of everyone. I decided I would start disengaging myself from participation in church classes and functions,over the course of the year. My husband never noticed the difference.

January 2015, I felt like I would be dishonest to continue letting my husband think I was a christian. He was not picking up on subtle hints. So I told him. It did not go over well. He wanted someone to blame and couldn't believe I had come to that conclusion through my own efforts. I tried to have discussions about what I had learned about the bible, history and science. He was incredulous. He  tried using every tired cliche apologetic argument for god that exists, including "look at the trees." He refused to read any of the books I had read. Instead, he started reading apologists like William Lane Craig and Peter Hitchens. He became uber-christian, sitting in front of me with his bible open at all hours, a thing he had never done before. If I tried to have a discussion about atheism, it would end with us yelling and him telling me his world was falling apart.

I couldn't talk reasonably to my husband about this state of affairs, so I started sending him long messages and links to articles, in my Facebook messages. He quit going on Facebook. Now, we have come to a point where we do not talk about it at all. He acts like he pretends that nothing has changed. He maintains a position in church leadership that he would not have if it were known that I am an atheist. I no longer sing in worship services, speak up in bible classes, pray, or participate in most extra functions. I sit in the back of classes and read on my ipad, if I can. Nobody seems to care or be too put out by my non participation. My body is still present, so I guess they think that means I'm still a member in good standing. I continue to read, study, and learn. For me, there is no going back to what I once believed. I know too much. I don't know how long I will need to attend worship services, but for now, it keeps my family together.  Maybe in the future, I will feel more free to come out of the proverbial closet.

I am currently living in the bible belt. I frequently see "friends" posting derogatory remarks about atheists on social media. Besides my husband, maybe one or two people know I am an atheist. There are no  atheists in my social circles.  I participate in a few online communities where my atheism does not matter.

Out of necessity, I have left out a great many details of my life as a Christian and my process of becoming an atheist. It would have taken up too much space and time and probably bored you to tears. I think I covered the most pertinent parts. Next time, I want to talk about what makes the church of christ unique and why it is so hard for me to physically leave.

Why I am NOT a member of the CoC, part four

After 20, years in the military, my husband retired. Our family was in upheaval. My husband got a low paying job. That, plus military retirement, had us making 10,000 a year less than before. My parents divorced and my mother moved in with another man. We moved to another home an hour away from our previous home, but closer to my husband's work. It needed a lot more repair work than we had anticipated and my husband was not a handyman. I was pregnant and had a miscarriage. I got pregnant again. We were traveling an hour each way to church every week to remain with our congregation of ten years. After I had the baby, I got an inner ear infection. The birth had been hard and my infant was a fussy child. I hardly slept, my head was spinning and I was crying all the time. I was diagnosed with postpartum depression. It was all too much.

I temporarily went on antidepressants and  did some serious soul searching. I came up with my own techniques to handle my panic attacks. I also decided to "let go" of all the things that I could not handle or control. I let go of the need to be doing the right thing all the time. I let go of the striving to be good enough for god. I prayed and told god that I was giving up trying to please him. I was just going to live my life the way that best suited me and if I went to hell, so be it. It took me almost two years to fully recover, but I was much better by the end of six months.

I wasn't done being a model christian, but something in me had loosened up. My husband and I decided to start attending a church of christ that was more conveniently located. When we left our old church, hardly anyone kept in touch with us or said goodbye. It was then I began to realize the members of the church weren't really my family after all.  I got involved with the homeschooling and church communities in my new area, but never felt as connected as I once had. Over the years, as my children grew, I became less and less involved, especially after the local homeschooling group began to require a statement of faith and began to assume fundamentalist beliefs were the norm for christian homeschoolers. I  had been studying various science books, secular and christian, to try to decide what to teach my older children. They had been getting a steady diet of creationism. I realized that I had been wrong and proceeded to correct that by changing our science sources to more accurate secular ones.

My oldest child graduated and went away to a CoC college. I had a fifth child, my last. About that time, I found a homeschooling message board website with homeschoolers from all over the world. I participated in many conversations about education, life, and religion. I met people from many backgrounds and learned how woefully inadequate my understanding of other religions was. I also met some atheists. A few times I embarrassed myself by making ignorant statements, but then I began to pay closer attention and read suggested books. I realized that all those years I had heard church leaders say Catholics and Mormons never really read the bible or material from groups outside their particular brand of faith, members of the CoC didn't either!

I began to dip my toe in unfamiliar waters by reading books by many progressive christians like Marcus Borg, John Dominic Crossan, and Karen Armstrong. It was eye opening. I moved on to Bart  Ehrman's books and serious doubts set in. I learned about free online college courses (MOOCS) and watched videos from courses in Philosophy, Sociology, Astronomy, Epigenetics, Paleontology, and Jewish history. I bought myself a book called The Bible in History and carried it with me to church, looking up events that came up in bible classes. It became undeniable that there were serious problems with the accuracy and historicity of the bible. I couldn't give up belief in a god yet, so I progressed into a kind of panentheism. Existence/the universe was my god. All this time, I never discussed my findings with my husband. He was never the type to have deep discussions of ideas, let alone, theological ones. His faith was and is a pretty simple one, very trusting of authority. Plus, I might have unconsciously expected to come across information that would set me back on the track of christianity. It never happened.

Why I am NOT a member of the CoC, part three

We now lived in another military area. I was less gloomy, but still convinced I would go to hell if I died. I started dating my future husband at the age of sixteen. He was a member of the CoC and a nice guy. My mother had told me there was no way my parents could support me going to college. She encouraged me to be serious about my future with (my husband). I had no goals or aspirations other than becoming a wife and mother, even though I was an accelerated student. I wouldn't have known how to go about doing anything else. My father later told me he never realized that.

At the age of 17.5, I married. At that time I was in Community college. My husband went over seas with the military soon after, and I followed a month later. We worshipped with a small church of Christ group on the military base.  Now I was an adult in the church and  began to be aware of conflicts, disagreements, and hypocrisies among the other adults in the church. Almost nobody was without issues.  I began my policy of staying out of these kinds of discussions and being neutral, for the most part. I tend to have a little social anxiety, and a fear of confrontation. My husband followed the neutral policy as well, but mostly because he loves people and just wants to get along with everyone.  I don't know if he even noticed some of the problems. In the meantime, I kept watching, listening, and studying. I still believed the main tenets of the CoC, even if there were obvious problems among members with what I saw as negotiable points of doctrine.While we were there, I had myself rebaptized (in a bathtub) and experienced a great feeling of relief. Now I was safe.

We moved back to the US and became involved with a loving congregation with few problems, that I knew of. My first child was born. When the preacher retired and we got a new younger preacher, issues began to crop up, questions about divorce, alcohol consumption, and salvation of others who called themselves christians. The atmosphere became tense, but we left for another duty station soon after.

At the next church, I began to teach children's bible classes. There, I heard about homeschooling for the first time. Plus, I was publicly berated in front of the whole congregation on a Sunday morning, for having called the church office to tell someone I couldn't teach my Wednesday night bible class that week. When I called, the preacher answered the phone. I gave him my message. He took it without remark. Then, without mentioning my name, he blasted me from the pulpit, saying his PHD self was too busy and important to take messages. There were proper channels for that kind of thing. I cried during the whole service.

We moved soon after, to a location with a congregation full of young military families with children. There was a disfellowshipping over a divorce soon after we got there. That was barely a blip on my radar. I had another child and my husband was deployed in Desert Storm. The young mothers in this congregation were very supportive of each other. They got together often for bible studies and socializing. I got to know one who was homeschooling her kids and became curious. She loaned me a bunch of literature, which I read hungrily. I was always a reader, curious, and interested in learning. Not only that, I had an obsession with doing the right thing and living in a godly way. That material convinced me I needed to homeschool my children to save their souls from the influence of the wicked world. I also became convinced birth control was a sin. I had a miscarriage and then another child.

I now had three children and was very involved in homeschooling and church. Various issues continued to crop up at church. We had an adulterous preacher who left in a hurry, and a traveling fundraiser for a bible printer ran away with money the congregation donated. There were disagreements over new song books, new preachers, overhead projectors, Promise Keeper involvement, building renovations, use of musical instruments in weddings, Max Lucado, small groups, and many other topics. My husband and I continued our practice of remaining neutral. I don't even know how many of the conflicts my husband was aware of. Nevertheless, that church became like family to us, or so we thought.

Why I am a NOT a member of the CoC, part two.

When we got back to the continental US, it wasn't long before my mother started looking for a place for us to go to church. Frankly, I think my mother did not want my father at loose ends and she needed a social outlet. First, we visited a Church of God one Sunday morning. It seemed okay, but my parents went back without us kids that night and everyone joined hands to pray for a "happening." That didn't go over well. Then we tried out a local  Baptist church for a few Sundays. That was better, until my parents were told they had to sign some kind of contract and get rebaptized to become members. No thank you. My mother then resorted to the phone book. She called around asking about church beliefs and practices until she got to the church of Christ. They sounded exactly like what my father and mother were both looking for. Plus, they didn't celebrate "pagan" holidays like Christmas and Easter.

To their credit, we were treated well in that church. They told my parents that their baptisms were a matter of their own consciences, if they understood what they were doing. My mother opted to be rebaptized. My father did not. My family settled in. I was soon asked to join the youth group. Since I had not grown up in that church, I was unaware of the many unwritten rules. So were my parents. We were never berated or talked down to, but we had ample opportunities to notice we were different. So we made adjustments. I learned about  the hypocrisy of christian modesty when the youth group went to the beach for a devotional. Having run around in shorts most of my childhood, I discovered that it was taboo when in front of church members, especially those of the opposite sex. No-one told me this directly, but a teen girl  notices when she is  the only one in shorts at The Beach in Florida. Never mind that I had seen the other girls in shorts at their homes.

That church was the first place I had ever heard of and witnessed the disfellowshipping of a member. It was over the issue of a divorce. A church friend also introduced me to the concept of the anti-Christ. President Jimmy Carter was the anti-Christ of that era, poor man.

Little occurrences, various subtle teachings, certain reactions to things I said or did, all affected me, gently molding me into a model member of the church of Christ. It was the velvet glove treatment. It works. I became a daily bible reader, so I could raise my hand proudly in services when asked. I memorized scripture in a spirit of competition with my less enthusiastic Sunday school mates. I agonized over when I should take the step to go forward and be baptized. Then it was all taken out of my hands. My mother decided I had reached the "age of accountability",which was unofficially thirteen. She made an appointment with the minister for me to have "a talk." The minister deemed that I knew everything I needed to know, my mother deemed I should be baptized right then and there. I barely remember how I ended up in the water. It seemed to have nothing to do with my own free will. Of course, I said I believed Jesus was the son of god, when I was asked, because I did. I felt like I had  no way to gracefully back out or postpone the event. In later years, I became rabid about people leaving my children alone to let them decide for themselves whether or not to be baptized.

Since, my baptism had not been voluntary, in my mind, I was scared witless. I became afraid to "sin" lest I destroy the cleanness of my soul that I had been told was a result of the baptism. I tried to live an exemplary life at thirteen. That lasted about two weeks. My father noticed that I gave up trying to be perfect. He wanted to know what had happened, why was I back to acting like a normal sassy kid (not in so many words.) I had no way to explain to him what had happened to me because I didn't understand it myself, at that time. I just knew I was probably going to hell. I lost interest in excelling at anything because I had realized I could never be good enough. I went through bouts of depression that I hid from everyone. I listened to a lot of music and read a lot of books, some Christianity oriented, to escape my feelings of inadequacy. I continued to fervently study the bible. I cried a lot.

We moved again.

Why I am NOT a member of the church of christ, part one

Why I am a Member of the Church of Christ by Leroy Brownlow sat on my family bookshelf for years. It was hardly ever read, but it was standard equipment for the library of a member of the church of Christ (CoC) when I was growing up. I would like to tell you the story of how I became a member of the church of Christ, and why I no longer consider myself one, even though I still attend services Sunday mornings and Wednesday evenings.

Since a child is not born with a religion, the story of its religious life begins with its parents. My mother grew up as a nominal catholic. Her mother and stepfather had been married and divorced more than once, so they weren't considered Catholics in good standing. My mother briefly attended a Catholic school when young and hated it. She was struck on the hand with a ruler for minor infractions and was told that saying the rosary was mandatory because Mother Mary said it, which made no sense to her, of course. My maternal grandparents believed they were probably going to hell.

My father grew up generic Baptist flavor christian. His father was a deacon and involved in community service of all kinds, when my father was young. They were not fanatics, however. By the time I came along, my grandparents were happy just being nominal protestants and did not go to church regularly. They were some of the most loving people I've ever known.

My parents eloped, were married in a military chapel, and seemed to have no deep religious convictions. When I was about two, we lived in Germany and my parents started attending Lutheran services, at least part time. My younger brother was born and my mother decided to have him baptized. Since I had never been baptized, they did a two for one. I still have the little white bible I was given afterward. My earliest religious memories are of watching a parent go up to the altar for what I know now as communion. Then, I just thought it was merely bread and water. We also had a large white, illustrated family bible, with gold edges and detailing. I loved to look at the pictures. As far as I know, that was the extent of religion in our household for a few years.

Later, we lived in Puerto Rico, on a military base, and were not attending any church services. My mother sent me to Sunday school classes, held in the base elementary school. Family friends later invited us to go with them to a local congregation made up of a mixture of continental  American military families and locals. The church was run by a Methodist missionary and his wife. They were rather pious, serious, and gloomy, but the Puerto Ricans were a lively, exuberant bunch. The singing was terrific, joyful and noisy, in English and Spanish. Many of the women kept time with tambourines. It is one of the most delightful memories of my childhood. I still remember some of those songs.

Around the same time, my father had a kind of spiritual revival. He became very interested in reading the bible. He also began to listen to radio broadcasts of Garner Ted Armstrong and the World Wide Church of God. He subscribed to their free magazine, The Plain Truth. He often gave me the magazines to read and would discuss them with me, almost as if I was a grown up. The teachings of this organization led my father to decide our family would no longer celebrate Christmas, which was a terrific blow to my mother, as we found out in later years. Easter and Halloween participation were also discontinued. My father also decided he needed to be baptized for the remission of his sins. The Methodist missionary took a group to the beach and a number of people were baptized in the ocean, including my father and mother.

While we lived in Puerto Rico, a neighbor gave me an old, worn copy of a King James bible, printed by the Gideons. I began to read it. I believed wholeheartedly in God with the simple faith of a child and could not remember a time when I hadn't. At the age of eleven, I encountered my first atheist, Mrs. Szesniac (sp.?). She was my sixth grade English teacher. One class period, she angrily said the bible was just a bunch of fairy tales and we shouldn't believe it. I mentally stuck my tongue out at her.

Then we moved to Florida.