Subscribe: Testimonies of Ex-Christians
Added By: Feedage Forager Feedage Grade C rated
Language: English
adults  back  bad  big  church  city  confess  good  home  life  man  much  people  school  started  thought  time  told  week  years 
Rate this Feed
Rate this feedRate this feedRate this feedRate this feedRate this feed
Rate this feed 1 starRate this feed 2 starRate this feed 3 starRate this feed 4 starRate this feed 5 star

Comments (0)

Feed Details and Statistics Feed Statistics
Preview: Testimonies of Ex-Christians

Testimonies of Ex-Christians

Some of the dynamic deconversion testimonies sent in to ExChristian.Net

Published: 2004-06-05T12:31:51Z


My Myth


sent in by BeMuseMe I was born in the peak year of the baby boom way down south and half way west in BIG D near ground zero of the Military Industrial Republic of Texas. My father was a Constable On Patrol from exactly the day before I was born. He was just a big ole country boy off the farm in the big bad sinful city with his sweetly naive teen bride at his side. I am sure I was in church by the time I was a week old. In those early years church amounted to playing with others kids. I was exposed to both the city life and country life. My grand parents on both sides were southern baptist and there I got that old time bible thumpin off key singing fire and brimstone style religion. While back in the city it was a bit more laid back liberal free wheeling just say no gimme a hug see ya in church? kinda show. It was just a part of my life that I payed little attention to. I was loved and the wonderous world was mine. As I became more self aware and less secure the fear rose up inside me. To be fair it was the whole crazy world of the time not just the preaching that caused my fears. I remember the tension of the adults during the cuban missile crisis and the looks on their faces when JFK was asassinated, in my home town no less. I was made to duck and cover in A-bomb drills at school. My best friends mother told us that Captain Hook lived in the woods behind our houses in an effort to keep us close to home (it did not work). THE END IS NIGH... Well about this time, I'd say 7 years old there I was in sunday school one sunny morn. The teacher was telling us about the wages of sin or some such thing. He passed around an honest to gawd-awful photo of a man in the electric chair just as the juice hit him. He told us that as bad as his punishment was hell would be a millions times worse and forever. After that it was on to the main service. I had sung the songs, and otherwise day dreamed through the hour or so but enough was enough and I was starting to squirm. As they started the invitational hymn I squirmed even more wanting to get out of there. My mother saw it and took it to be the spirit moving in me, which it was, just not the spirit she thought. It wasn't Jesus but rather my own little imp trying to jump nakid out of the monkey suit they had me in. She started questioning me and pressuring me to go down front and be saved. So I thought maybe I am bad and I would sure hate to fry forever, and up front I went. Confess this(not that I had much to confess), pray that, hugs and kisses, pat on the back, well done my good and faithful servant, warm fuzzies AH man I'm saved??? After that life went back to the same ol same ol. School five days a week, church at least once a week, cub scouts boy scouts, carefree summers, weekends on grandpas farm. It could have been a Norman Rockwell painting, but for the times, they were a changing. As I grew, questioned, and learned it started to become much more Dali-esque. Vietnam was raging, John Lennon said the Beatles were more popular than Jesus as the freaks sang Give Peace a Chance and the war for americas youth began. I had always been taught to think for myself, be truthful, and take reponsibility for your own actions. And now I was being told that rock and roll was evil, all those hippies who were against the war were godless communist, and I better watch out or the boogey man would kidnap my immortal soul. I was torn. All the adults I knew were good people if somewhat confused themselves but those hippies didn't seem so bad either. I saw the pictures of children burned by napalm and heard the nightly body counts over the dinner table. Then I saw the picture of a bhuddist monk setting himself on fire in protest. I thought he's not a christian but instead of harming others he is sacrifcing himself for a principle.I started to question the status quo. I wanted to know why if "Thou shall not kill" were we this great christian nation, in another land enforcing our will on another people. I asked if "All men are created equal" why do all the dark skinned people have to live [...]