A Little of My Back Story

I was raised Christian.  I can't remember a time in my life when I didn't know who Jesus was, or when I wasn't praying to Him to save me, yet again, from whatever sin (or all the sins) I had recently committed, because I was certain that those sins separated me from God, and likely put me on a course to hell, if I were to suddenly die unexpectedly.

That was my belief system for 30 years.  I went to church as a child, sporadically with my family, and by myself, by choice, as a teenager.  My parents identified their beliefs as Pentecostal, so I was familiar and comfortable among the 'holy rollers", and remember times when I was the only one standing in a room full of people who were laying on the floor, consumed by the power of the Holy Spirit.  I was that kind of child, who refused to conform to be accepted, or to fake it to look as religious as the next.  In those days, I believed that that sort of occurrence was possible, and wondered why it never happened to me.  I stood there, on my feet with eyes closed, praying fervently for the Holy Spirit to do with me what He was doing with all the other people in the room, who were blissfully collapsed as though they had been rewarded for their faithfulness.  I never fell, though.  Not even under the loud, powerful prayer of the pastor, or the powerful push of his hand on my forehead while he administered my prayer.

When my parents got into a disagreement with the pastor of our church, which happened a few times in my youth, they would stop going to church altogether, for a few years or more, until they found another church or pastor that interested them.  In my teenage years, I was lonely and looking for a place to belong, and I started attending the Baptist church across the street from our house.  I loved the youth group there, I felt accepted to a point, and I enjoyed going. For years I went by myself, every Wednesday evening and Sunday morning.  I was in the choir for a while, volunteered in the nursery, and I enjoyed the "family" feel of the Baptist denomination.

I continued going to Baptist church as a young adult.  All of my friends in my twenties were Christians, many of them I met at church.  We weren't the strict kind of Christians that didn't drink or swear, and we spent a lot of our twenties just having fun, drinking on the weekends together, either at my apartment or out at dance clubs or karaoke bars.  But Christianity was our foundation, we believed it and it overshadowed our morals and major choices in life.  There were numerous times when we organized bible studies together, simply because we enjoyed it.  As a very young adult, I have memories of driving to a nearby lake with a small waterfall, and sitting with my two best friends and singing songs about God together, enjoying nature and each others company and like-mindedness.  And of course, on Wednesday nights and most Sunday mornings, we were all in church together.

In my early twenties, I met my future husband in the College and Careers class at church.  We went every Wednesday together for years, we became best friends and were close friends with a handful of others from the same class.  After a few years of close friendship and then a few years of dating, we got married, equally yoked in a Christian ceremony.  I was a practicing, believing Christian woman who felt strongly about raising our children in church and in a Christian home.  My husband was thrilled to have met and married a woman with such strong faith and belief in the Bible.

For five years our marriage followed that Christian path.  We took our kids to church, they enjoyed Sunday School and learning about God.  I played Christian music in the car and enjoyed teaching them about Christianity by reading them stories from their Children's Bibles.  We all enjoyed Veggie Tales DVDs and we liked popping into the Christian Bookstore once in a while to pick out Bible themed toys or games.  At Christmas time, I always carefully chose Christmas cards that focused on the "Reason for the Season", the birth of Christ.  I felt it was important to read the story of Jesus' birth to the kids on Christmas Eve, and it made me proud to display my large, expensive, very detailed Nativity figures in a prominent place in our home during the holiday season.

Until about 3 years ago, that was my belief system, my life pattern, my reality and my comfort.  I remember it fondly, and sometimes I even miss it - the blind faith, the false sense of truth and security.

I'm not a Christian anymore.  I no longer believe that the bible is the Book of God, and I no longer believe that Jesus is (was) the Son of God, or Divine in any way that is different than the Divinity that we all possess.    This blog will delve into how and why my beliefs changed, as well as serve as an outlet for me to discuss all the thoughts I have on this subject that are ever bouncing around in my head daily.  I'll talk about how my still-devout Christian husband and I have weathered my changing beliefs, and managed to maintain love and support for each other.

Please come back and read my thoughts and experiences and ramblings as I sort them into posts on my blog.  Feel free to comment or ask questions, for I always enjoy an intelligent conversation or respectful debate!  :)

~  Bonnie