I grew up in Texas, and there are a few rules when you grow up in Texas:
You must be a Cowboys fan.
All sodas are referred to as Coke.
You need to have a personal relationship with Jesus.
For most of my youth, I attended Shady Grove Church, an evangelical church located in Grand Prairie, Texas. Every Sunday (as well as some Saturdays and Wednesdays), we loaded up in the family van and drove 45 minutes to attend church services. There was a children’s church, a youth group, and a parochial school.
Our church was non-denominational, which meant they didn’t answer to any sort of accountability. I would say they were Southern Baptist adjacent. There was dancing during the worship service, speaking in tongues, and being “filled with the Holy Spirit”.
I was a devotee. I loved Jesus with all of my heart. I believed everything that I was taught, including that we were “special” for being Christian. However, as I got older, I started feeling an unease. Some things just didn’t make sense to me. I started to question why it wasn’t ok for someone to be gay. I wondered why teen girls who became pregnant were expelled from school. I wanted to know why all the girls got called out into the hallway for skirt length checks but the boys were left alone. I found out that we were not being taught certain things at school, for example, historical events like the Tulsa Massacre. Science focused on creationism, and sexual education (including consent) did not exist. Over time, I started to feel a dissociation between my heart and my religion. I started asking myself “does this mean I’m a bad Christian? Do I not love Jesus enough?”
Then, one day, when I was about 16 or 17, I was sitting in church, listening to the Sunday sermon. The speaker was talking about another major non-Christian faith and then decided to use a racial slur. Something broke in me at that moment, and the cracks in my faith began to expand into a crevasse. I didn’t want to be a part of this anymore. That event was my personal point of no return.
Over the course of the next few years, I moved to Chicago to attend The Theatre School at DePaul University. My new friends were incredibly patient with me, this sheltered gal who had so much to learn. Looking back, I am incredibly embarrassed at the way I used to think about abortion, LGBTQ+ rights, and all kinds of other important issues. The generosity of these friends to take the time to push me to think differently played a huge role in me starting to understand how harmful religion can be for so many people.
For doubting evangelicals, even if their heart is struggling with the church, a big piece that can hold them back is the ingrained fear of going to hell. I know it sounds ridiculous, but hell is deeply imprinted on anyone who grows up in evangelical circles as a very real place. I was so afraid of going to hell that I wouldn’t even go to yoga class because it was too “New Age”. It seems ridiculous, because it is. However, when you’ve been hearing about the ring of fire for most of your life, it’s a tough fear to shake.
I am not anti-faith in all circumstances, but I do struggle quite a bit with the prejudice and patriarchy that pervades fundamentalist religion. Recently, I found out that a former elder named Robert Morris from Shady Grove was indicted for child abuse. Immediately, many of us former Shady Grovers reached out to each other on Instagram or text. I am not overstating it to say we were all struggling, however, none of us were surprised. Many of us had been attacked or abused as a result of the tenets taught at that church. Patriarchy seems especially potent in a fundamentalist environment. If something bad happens to you, and you’re a young girl, it’s your fault no matter what. When I was a kid, I didn’t understand how patriarchy worked, but now I get it, painfully. I don’t think it can be denied that fundamentalism hurts a whole lot of people in many life-changing ways.
Today, my belief system is at polar odds with evangelical Christianity. I’m an atheist, feminist, pro-LGBTQ+, anti-racist, and pro-choice. I’m no longer afraid of going to hell or anything else, because I don’t believe hell is real, unless we are talking about certain places on earth. Humans are pretty good at creating our own version of hell, I’d say.
I happily watch shows that feature witches. I got divorced, and I don’t believe women need to submit to anyone. My 15-year-old self would fall out and lay hands on me for sure, praying for my soul’s redemption.
I may not believe in God anymore, but I do believe we all have a sacred purpose in life. I believe everyone should be allowed to live as their authentic self. I believe we have the power to create our own version of heaven (or hell). I believe there is meaning and wonder in every moment, and I believe most of us are doing the best we can. Every day, I’m thankful I walked away, even though it has been a long journey to get here.
"And you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free."
John 8:32