Thoughts of a former Christian listening to XTC
By A.T.
It becomes a little perplexing when you grew up as the epitome of a goody two-shoes Catholic-school girl. Your perspective came from reading the Bible more frequently than you did self-help books; your beliefs were strong from being baptized not only once, but twice (the second time in the form of a larger amount of chlorine-filled water and tears). Times at night were dedicated to writing thoughts about a verse from the book of Ephesians in your devotions journal; times during the day to talking to who you thought was God more than your family. Looking back, you actually believed nothing would shake this faith.
However, as you grew up, the crap people served you no longer seemed edible. You grew increasingly skeptical about the church and its necessity in spirituality, then about the belief in God, then the belief in gods in general. You cringed at your former, God-fearing self. You became angry that you wasted years seeing the world through the eyes of someone who worshipped in a sexist religion declaring “love to all.” You saw that sometimes the ones who did not identify with your religion were most part of it. You started seeing the world in a much more detached manner, as if your mind left your body and saw each and every one’s need to put meaning into a meaningless life with rituals and sacraments (wasn’t this how religion really formed, anyway?). Soon, your prayers reduced to mumbles and your journals stopped short. Perhaps, you thought, perhaps I don’t believe in God anymore.
Shame came in. Is this not the true meaning of hypocritical? How could you preach about the good news in front of a class but suddenly declare that news to be fake? No really, how could you? You used to wonder what it would mean for a christian to simply stop believing. Surely, your goody two-shoes alter ego would think, they’d go to hell. But really, how on earth was that way of thinking actually christian? All this cognitive dissonance frustrated you. It still does.
You still go to a christian school, where they still force God down your throats. You’re still part of a christian family, where being christian means you’re better than everyone else. You’re ashamed to admit that you just really don’t believe anymore. You can’t (maybe only to the select few who’d understand; everyone else would pray for your soul). Still, weirdly enough, you feel angry and ashamed, but not afraid. You no longer worry about the possibility Satan may send some weird demon to paralyze you in your sleep (you’ve come to learn that this is simply a phenomenon called hypnagogia). You don’t feel afraid to go down at 3am to get a cup of coffee anymore. You no longer get anxious about the fact that you did... this thing that you won’t ever admit to anyone.
You didn’t choose to not believe; it’s not some sort of political statement. You just don’t. This true disbelief makes you wonder more deeply, in a non pseudo-way, if there is any meaning to life now. Do you still try to be good if there’s no heaven? Do you still do your best to avoid sin although there’s no hell? You’ve always wondered how it felt to do stereotypically “bad” things. Shall you try them? Do you continue caring for the world, the less-fortunate? Should goodness and love still be pursued, now simply for their own sake? Is it possible to continue pursuits, this time with utmost selfishness, and not feel bad at all? What do you do when you don’t believe in God anymore?
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