“Why Did You Leave Christianity?”

I saw flaws in it.

Flaws in the Bible, flaws in the teaching, flaws in God.

And God can’t have flaws.

What caused this?

It wasn’t like that. These particular doubts had been playing in the back of my mind for a couple of years. I knew I’d think about it at some point and eventually I did. It turns out you can believe something for 25 years then stop over lunch.

I had taken time off work to research the questions I had. So far the answers were less good than I’d hoped. Every now and then I met up with a friend from university and we ate lunch in the college dining room, surrounded by students.

“But what about miracles” I said

“What about them?”

It’s hard to explain the amount of force which can be contained in three softly spoken words. I had been holding onto miracles as the last refuge of my faith — impossible acts which were proof of God. My friend was utterly unconcerned.

“What about them?”

Was he saying that miracles are just science we don’t know yet? Or that Muslims and Hindu’s have miraculous accounts too? Did he disbelieve the accounts I’d heard? Or was I unnerved that he was so relaxed on the matter?

That was the moment I stopped being a Christian. In that moment, I finally thought what if it’s all not true? What if it’s really not all true. What if it’s false? What if it’s nonsense? The songs, the theology, the guilt, the Bible, the no sex, divorce, gay marriage. What if my whole life has been a lie?

There was a single moment where it all seemed to rush together. It was like crashing your bike or a first kiss. The world compacted to a point and then expanded again, but different this time. I wasn’t a Christian and it all made sense. Sat in that half-oak-panelled hall, surrounded by students I didn’t know.

Losing your faith is not like toothpaste.

I remember in primary school, there was an assembly about consequences. Mrs Borum gave a talk about how there are some things you can’t undo, like how toothpaste doesn’t go back into the tube. Having experimented over the years, I can confidently say this is false.

Losing your faith is like hearing a joke.

Once you’ve heard a joke, you can’t go back. The answer is so clear, so predictable, that you can never recreate your prior ignorance. You can’t hear that joke for the first time again.

There are so many things that I sincerely beleived that I now think are clearly false. I cannot help but see the flaws in them. They are jagged edges which cut the fingers of my mind. I have seen them and cannot forget them. They are like a cheating boyfriend, a movie twist or a solved magic trick.

I cannot help but look at Hell and think that God is in some part to blame for flaws in his creation. I cannot look at LGBT+ relationships and not wonder why the Bible has such a big hangup. I cannot look at the rape laws in the Old Testament and not see them as shortsighted and cruel.

There are many wonderful and beautiful things about Evangelicalism, Christianity and the Bible. The community, the intricate theology, the ethics conversation, the forgiveness, the high standards of personal morality, the food, the songs.

But, Christianity is about truth. Jesus says “I am the Way, Truth and the Life”. And you can’t be part of a church whilst actually thinking it’s mostly untrue. We’ll I can’t — I’d feel like a fraud.

So I left.

Leaving was hard. It was like a divorce, I guess. I had to tell my friends and family. I had about 80 conversations in a week, about 30 over the phone or face to face. Serving God and being part of my church was everything to me, and then it wasn’t.

This was hard on my friends and family. About half were relaxed and half were upset. It’s been difficult at times, I’ve been difficult at times. People have been gracious to me and I’ve been gracious to them.

Several people have asked if there isn’t really something else going on. Whether I was unhappy where with my job, my community, whether I was gay.

I don’t know what drives my decisions. I don’t think any of us do. The shadowy arms of our subconscious nudge our minds in ways we cannot spot.

There are other reasons I might have left. Evangelicalism is satisfying, but it’s also hard. Leaving brought less incoherence, sure. But also for me, it might mean moving to other places, doing other jobs, believing things I could justify to others. Potentially having sex (though as an ex-Evangelical I am uniquely prepared for pandemic celibacy). Less emotional fallout on abortion and LGBT issues.

I can give a philosophical justification for my decision, but I bet these things made it easier.

I don’t think humans can spot “good arguments” but we all know when we see a bad one. Good beliefs are the ones which survive the onslaught of criticisms put against them.

Christianity looks false to me. Clearly and undeniably. I don’t think I’ll ever unsee that. Maybe one day the flaws I see in it will themselves look obviously flawed. Perhaps Chrisitianity will again be faultless and perfect, though not the same as it once was.

I don’t know. I cannot predict what I’ll think.

There are flaws in the thing which was was the centre of my life. The thing which motivated and helped make all my other decisions. I have questions to which I have heard only bad answers.

And if that wouldn’t make me leave, what would?

Acknowledgements:

I have written this article in various forms at least 10 times. My thanks go to everyone who read and gave feedback on it. In particular, Kirsten, Josh, Jupiter, John, Renju, Jack, Elin, Dad, Joel W, Joel Y, Jamie.

Photo by Gemma Evans on Unsplash