I Am Not A Christian

I outgrew my nontheist closet the other day. Partly I was forced and partly I was just tired of the smothering Christian closet I’d been existing in for the last year.

I received an email from the principal of the school where I was a teacher, requesting to meet with me regarding my social media use. I had no idea what things on social media he was referring to, but I figured that, whatever it was, my job was in jeopardy.

My job being in jeopardy was a relief. I had not self-identified as a Christian for several weeks, and I had been considering resigning from my position as a matter of personal integrity. This school requires their teachers to affirm and sign a statement of faith. You have to believe the “right” things to work there. And I most definitely no longer believed the “right” things. I wrote up my resignation letter and went to the meeting.

It turned out, my review of Peter Enn’s The Bible Tells Me So (see previous post!) and my questioning biblical inerrancy was enough that they were going to force my resignation regardless. I didn’t believe the right things. Also, I used the word “fucking” and the acronym “Classy AF” on my Instagram. Let’s just be honest here, it wasn’t just my religious beliefs. But I’m fairly certain that the religious beliefs were the driving force. I told them openly, I do not identify as a Christian.  What a weight was lifted when I handed them my letter, turned in my textbooks, and walked out of First Baptist Belton as a free woman.

I promptly posted a declarative statement on Facebook publicly coming out of the nonreligious closet to my friends. In hindsight, I wish I had been a little more slow and gentle with this process. I wish that I had spoken to my family and my best friends in person, or at least written a letter. This post is an attempt to explain myself a little better than simply saying “I am not a Christian.”

My thoughtful friend, Jake, asked me: “What does it mean for you to not be a Christian? What exactly is it you’re rejecting, if you don’t mind me asking?” My friend, Diana, asked “Are you nothing, a follower of Christ, agnostic, or what would you describe it as?”

Let me go through these step by step. And please know that, if you are someone with whom I have a close friend or familial relationship with, that my rejection of Christianity is not a rejection of you. And I am also not responsible for your reaction to me leaving the Christian tribe, whether your reaction is positive or negative.

What does it mean for me to not be a Christian? It means that I do not believe that Jesus Christ was the son of god. I do not believe that I need to accept him as a savior to be saved from a fiery afterlife. I do not believe that I need to evangelize others and bring them into the Christian tribe to save their souls. I do not believe that a literal firey torment awaits all those who do not accepts Jesus as their savior. I have always considered the primary tenet of Christianity to be belief in Christ as the Messiah and Savior. As I do not believe that, I do not consider myself a Christian.

What am I rejecting? Let me write a few bullet points of ideas that I have rejected that stem from the Christian religion. I won’t go deep into them, but if anyone would like to discuss them in further detail, I’m willing.

  • a literal, physical hell
  • Biblical literalism, inerrancy, and infallibility
  • Creationism of the type of Answers in Genesis
  • the divinity of Christ; I do not deny that Jesus was a historical figure at all, or that he did great things
  • the idea of God’s sovereignty, divine providence, a divine plan, etc.
  • penal substitutionary atonement
  • Total depravity of humanity

Am I nothing? I would have to say that I’m “nothing” in the sense that I don’t align myself with a particular religion anymore. I retain a belief in the spirit and remain deeply spiritual.

Am I a follower of Christ? Only in the sense that I want to follow the way of love. I believe that Jesus Christ had the most altruistic and loving vision for humanity contained in his teachings of love. I do not reject those teachings. I follow the way of Christ’s love, the same as I will follow the way of the Buddha in compassion and detachment.

Am I agnostic? Yes. I do not believe that the existence of god/gods can either be proven or disproven. It would be overconfident of myself to label myself a sincere and total atheist. I am atheistic about the monotheistic god that has developed over the last  4,000 years in the three main monotheistic religions of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. But regarding the existence of a god/gods in general, I am agnostic.

So, what does all this mean for me? It means that I am choosing to live my life without the guilt and chains that Christianity  thrust upon me for 26 years. It means that I will do my best to be kind, compassionate, and altruistic. It means that I will make this world a better place, since I only have this one wild and beautiful life. It means I will focus less on believing the “right things” and more on being a good person. It means that no, I am not going to donate to your church or your mission trip or your monthly support fund. It means that I am going to politely close the door if you try to knock on my door and invite me to church. It means that I will respectfully not join in with religious activities if I do not want to, and I will not attempt to meld with the tribe out of a sense of self-preservation, as I have in the past. I will get to be me, true to myself and what I actually believe. It also means that I am not abandoning my friends or family, and I hope they don’t abandon me. As I said, me rejecting this religion is not me rejecting you, unless that is all you are. In any case, I am not going to be the one to burn any bridges.

Let me share a quick quote that spoke to me from a video I watched this morning about “coming out of the atheist closet” by Neil Carter, author of Godless in Dixie:

Atheism is the answer to one question: do you believe in gods? It’s not a comprehensive life stance. It doesn’t answer all the questions of life, it doesn’t tell you how to run a society… by itself it’s not a comprehensive worldview. It’s just an answer to one question.”

I’d have to say that this sentiment relates to much of what I have written here. I have in no way detailed my entire life stance in a mere 1,200 words. I have in no way answered all the questions to life at this point. I’m on a lifelong journey of self-discovery, and coming into my honest truth as a nontheist is where I have arrived.

If you’ve gotten this far, thank you for reading, thank you for listening, and thank you for being in my life. Also, thank you in advance for not seeking to evangelize, reconvert, or save me.  I say that in the kindest, most loving way possible.



The Bible Tells Me So: Book Review

A little bit of background:

I was brought up in an extremely fundamentalist Christian subculture that loved to tout its allegiance to the Bible as the  “inerrant, infallible Holy Word of God” also known as “Basic Instructions Before Leaving Earth,” and definitely as “Literal and to be taken LITERALLY as History and anything less is disrespecting God.” I was parented the “Biblical” way with the rod. The Bible might have even been more important than Jesus. No, it was DEFINITELY more important. Because the Bible tells me so?

Well. As I got older, I realized how narrow and truly ridiculous this view was if you were going to apply any sort of reason and basic hermeneutics onto the text of the Bible. Being asked to view this book as “literal” or “inerrant” was synonymous with being asked to check my brain and reason at the door of the church. So, what does any self-respecting mid-crisis-of-faith Christian like myself do with the Bible? Run for the hills, of course.

I stayed away from the Bible for the better part of two years while I was deconstructing things like hell, heaven, evangelism, churches like Antioch Waco, spiritual abuse, and my very real doubts about God that were simply not going away. The Bible became something that other Christians would throw at me like a trump card to smooth away my doubt. They couldn’t understand why I just didn’t care about it.

As someone who identifies as a “Red Letter Christian,” I felt like I should at least be reading the Gospels. And I tried. And I couldn’t. I actually couldn’t take the Red Letters seriously because of my undealt with issues and baggage surrounding this tome. And then I realized I had never dealt with my skepticism towards the Bible. Something had to be done.

Enter: The Bible Tells Me So, by Peter Enns. And now we will get to the actual review part of this review.

Enns is a Bible scholar. He teaches in university, he has degrees, and he responds to you on Twitter. In short, he knows his shit about the Bible, and he’s a cool dude! And you should probably make room for him on your bookshelf if you are at all interested in Christianity. “The Bible Tells Me So” deals with very complicated topics in depth, yet in a light-hearted way that won’t make you snooze. Enns knows his audience: the Normal People.

He breaks down all the fundamentalist preconceptions of approaching the Bible (as if it dwells in some unapproachable light of amazingness), and lets us know that we need to just let the Bible be the Bible and to stop trying to make it something that it isn’t. That reading it is important, but as Christians we also need to recognize that it is not the center of our faith. Jesus is.

He addresses many problems (yes, people like me see them as problems) that plague (like boils or flies) the Bible, such as the differing versions of Israel’s history, the troubling myths of Israel’s deep past (and why it makes zero sense to take them as actual fact), the bloodthirsty God of the Old Testament and the (very) troubling vendetta he has against the Canaanites, Paul’s writings, and how Jesus got extremely creative in interpreting Torah. And he doesn’t throw the baby out with the bathwater, like I wanted to do.

If you are a Christian, read this book. And if you, like me, refuse to check your reason at the door in regards to the Bible, definitely read it. It will give you peace of mind, and a better foundation with which to approach this collection of stories that has survived the test of time.

I gave this book a 4/5 on Goodreads, which means “I really liked it.” And highly recommend.

I Am Not Your Peach

We need to talk. We need to talk about the way we talk about women. We need to talk about how we have normalized condescension, objectification, and oppression. We need to talk about how we have normalized referring to women as “the weaker sex.” We need to talk about how we have normalized referring to women as sex objects, playthings, and breeders. We need to talk about how we use religion to oppress women into submission.

Don’t believe me? Please read through the list of quotes below:

“What’s up, sweetheart! How about you come and sit on my lap? I’ll show you a good time.”

“Hey doll, be a peach, will ya and print me that report?”

“God, look at the ass on her! Hey, bitch, I’m talking to you! What a fucking slut.”

“Women should be silent in the church.”

“A woman’s place is in the home.”

“God did not design women to police men in society.”

“You always need to be available when he calls [for sex].” (Michelle Duggar)

“Women are nothing but machines for producing children.” (Napoleon Bonaparte)

“The female is a female by virtue of a certain lack of qualities; we should regard the female nature as afflicted with a natural defectiveness.” (Aristotle)

“Feminism was established so as to allow unattractive women access to the mainstream of society.” (Rush Limbaugh)

“When a woman has scholarly inclinations there is usually something wrong with her sexual organs.” (Friedrich Nietzsche)

“Educating a beautiful woman is like pouring honey into a fine Swiss watch: everything stops.” (Kurt Vonnegut)

“If [rape] is inevitable, just relax and enjoy it.” (TX gubernatorial candidate Clayton Williams)

“Nature intended women to be our slaves. They are our property.” (Napoleon Bonaparte)

“They have the right to work wherever they want to — as long as they have dinner ready when you get home.” (John Wayne)

“I moved on her like a bitch, but I couldn’t get there. And she was married.” (Donald Trump)

“I did try and fuck her. She was married.” (Donald Trump)

“Just kiss. I don’t even wait. And when you’re a star, they let you do it. You can do anything.” (Donald Trump)

“Grab them by the pussy. You can do anything.” (Donald Trump)

Throughout history women have been denigrated, oppressed, and silenced. We have been abused, trafficked, and mutilated. We have been sold to the highest bidder. And we have been talked about as if we are less than human. As if we are less than men. We are not. We have value. And we must start speaking like we have value. It starts with our words.

We must stop referring to women as: weaker, defective, breeding machines, sexual objects, slaves, property, or bitches.

Think about the words you use to refer to women today. Think about it everyday. Do your words recognize the woman in front of you with respect? Do they treat her with dignity? Do they acknowledge her value and her worth? Or do they oppress, belittle, and silence her? Words have power.

Critiquing God and Journeying into the Desert

Is God willing to prevent evil, but not able? Then He is not omnipotent. Is He able, but not willing? Then He is malevolent. Is He both able and willing? Then whence cometh evil? Is He neither able nor willing? Then why call Him God? -Epicurus

Today’s Atheism for Lent reflection is this quote from Epicurus, the Greek philosopher who lived in the 4th century BCE. It is one of the oldest surviving arguments against the existence of God. And I am musing quite heavily on it this morning.

Last week AfL was a contemplative preparation of sorts. We read a comic book excerpt about finding a place with conflict can exist without war, we considered the enigma of belief, the necessity of both silence and words when we consider God, and then the value of disruption. We set the stage. Now, we are taking long hard looks at writings that question the very existence of God. Or, as Rollins puts it, “the critique of God as being.”

We are jumping off the high dive. I have zero answers to that above quote. And that is okay. Because belief is an enigma, and I can say that “I don’t know.”

I have to admit, I consider myself an agnostic Christian. I do not know that there is, in fact, a God. I cannot prove it. But I’ve chosen to hang my coat, as it were, in the Christian tradition. Because Jesus offers a great hope for the world. He offers love and meaning. And when I offer up a song of “I need you” or I confess that I have experienced trauma at the hands of a church to a pastor or I talk about the evils of capitalism with a friend, Jesus is within our conversation, offering hope and a better way of being. Whether or not God exists, it means something to me.

Lent is about going into the desert with Christ. Identifying with him in our weakness. The Lectio Divinia reading from yesterday I did today. It was an interesting juxtaposition: read and consider one of the oldest critiques of God and then contemplate Matthew 4:1-11: Jesus going into the wilderness to be tempted.

Jesus fasts for forty days. And it is not until he is at his weakest that temptations come his way.

As I was meditating, I imagined a mirror image of Jesus, this one clean, fed, strong, a regal Son of God telling the dirty, hungry, weak Jesus, the fully human expression of the divine, to “bow down and worship me.” The temptation coming from within himself, to be something the world might consider better than this suffering homeless rabbi. “Be strong! Take what is yours!” Jesus tells himself. “No. That is not why I came here,” Jesus responds.

“Feed yourself. You have the power.”
“No, I will live off the words of my Father.”
“Throw yourself down. Prove your divinity.”
“No, I will not test my power.”
“Worship me! You deserve the respect, glory, and power of the nations!”
“No. Only God is worthy of worship.”

Jesus passes through suffering to become what he came to be: a fully human expression of the divine, here to bring heaven to earth. He could have taken what was his. He could have taken power. He could have become what the world thinks he should have been: a conqueror, a Lord, a God. But he remained the humble Jesus of Nazareth. And showed us all a better way to live.

I’m journeying into the desert this week.
Grace and peace.

How to Speak of God (Or Not)

Anyone who knows me personally knows how much I love it when different subjects or things I am studying interconnect and synthesize into a meaningful whole. I got to experience that today with the second meditation of Atheism for Lent.

Today’s reflection was the introduction from Peter Rollins’ book How (Not) To Speak of God. I have linked if if you would like to read it for yourself; it’s not that long and it is quite interesting.

To quickly summarize: Rollins is considering the implications of what we can and yet cannot say about God. He mentions two tensions: “What we cannot speak about we must pass over in silence” and “God is the one subject of whom we must never stop speaking.” These two tensions, while seeming oil and water at first, exist together, inform each other,  and enrich each other. Rollins says that he comes to Christian mystics when he is confronted by this dilemma of to speak or not to speak of God. I’ll share the larger quote here because it’s great:

Each time I returned to the horns of this dilemma I found myself drawn to the Christian mystics (such as Meister Eckhart), for while they did not embrace total silence they balked at the presumption of those who would seek to colonise the name ‘God’ with concepts. Instead of viewing the unspeakable as that which brings all language to a halt they realised the unspeakable was precisely the place where the most inspiring language began. This God whose name was above every name gave birth, not to a poverty of words, but to an excess of them. And so they wrote elegantly concerning the limits of writing and spoke eloquently about the brutality of words. By speaking with wounded words of their wounded Christ these mystics helped to develop, not a distinct religious tradition, but rather a way of engaging with and understanding already existing religious traditions: seeing them as a loving response to God rather than a way of defining God.

These writings of the mystics are typically overlooked in western Christianity. It’s certainly been true in my own personal experience with evangelical or fundamentalist Christianity. There is this certainty that is pervasive in the language we use to talk about God. We say “God is good. He is a Father. He is all-knowing. He is a Savior. He is the Lamb. He is Adonai. He is YHWH. He is I am. He is just. He is merciful.” I could go on.

But language always fails, does it not? Think about it. Is God really a father? What is the meaning of the word father to us? It is a man who is a parent, who has contributed his sperm to forming offspring. Did God do that? Did God contribute his sperm to form offspring? Did he form us? God is not a father. But we still call him that, because it is the only way we can use language to describe him in a certain situation. God is not not a father. Language fails. We can’t say he’s a father, but we also can’t say he is not a father, because at the end of the day, we just don’t know. We just have to keep using language to try and attempt to understand. We talk about the unknowable, knowing that we cannot reach actual understanding. But we must never stop speaking. There is a palpable tension when we speak of God. The tension must remain:

“That which we cannot speak of is the one thing about whom and to whom we must never stop speaking For the mystic God was neither an unspeakable secret to be passed over in silence, nor a dissipated secret that had been laid bare in revelation. Rather the mystic approached God as a secret that one was compelled to share, yet which retained its secrecy.”

It took me awhile to get to my point about synthesis and connections in my studies. A few weeks ago I attended a morning class at UBC in Waco where we read portions of The Mystical Theology by Pseudo-Dionysius the Areopagite, the father of Christian mysticism. Do you see the connection?

Pseudo-Dionysius basically wrote the book on how to speak of God. We had a really great discussion on this short work, which I will link at the bottom if you’d like to read. I basically explained our conversation in the paragraph above about God being a father (or not).

Basically, words fail. But they’re all we have to try and understand God. Even if he is unknowable.

Here is the prayer with which he opens the work:

Trinity!! Higher than any being,
any divinity, any goodness!
Guide of Christians
in the wisdom of heaven!
Lead us up beyond unknowing and light,
up to the farthest, highest peak
of mystic scripture,
where the mysteries of God’s Word
lie simple, absolute and unchangeable
in the brilliant darkness of a hidden silence.
Amid the deepest shadow
they pour overwhelming light
on what is most manifest.
Amid the wholly unsensed and unseen
they completely fill our sightless minds
with treasures beyond all beauty.


Side note: just by referring to God as a “he” I am demonstrating the severe limits of language. God isn’t gendered. Think about it.

Grace and peace.


The Mystical Theology

Introduction to “How (not) to Speak of God

God Our Mother This is a liturgy using apophatic meditation. It takes you through the steps I mentioned above: “God is a father. God is not a father. God is not not a father.” It’s super helpful to help consider the limits of language in understanding of God.

Atheism for Lent

You’ve heard the story
You know how it goes
Once upon a garden
We were lovers with no clothes

Fresh from the soil
We were beautiful and true
In control of our emotions
‘Til we ate the poisoned fruit
And now it’s

Hard to be
Hard to be
Hard to be
A decent human being

Wait just a minute
You expect me to believe
That all this misbehaving
Came from one enchanted tree?

And helpless to fight it
We should all be satisfied
With this magical explanation
For why the living die?


Child birth is painful
We toil to grow our food
Ignorance has made us hungry
Information made us no good
Every burden misunderstood

I swung my tassel
To the left side of my cap
Knowing after graduation
There would be no going back

And no congratulations
From my faithful family
Some of who are already fasting
To intercede for me
Because it’s

Hard to be, hard to be, hard to be a decent human being.

-David Bazan, “Hard to Be”

It is Ash Wednesday, and like so many Christians around the world I am observing Lent this year. I thought it would be a good start to this blog by writing at the beginning of something.

Lent is meant to bring one into suffering alongside Christ. 40 days of suffering yield to joy on Easter. These days it seems that people use it like a restart to their New Year’s Resolutions. Give up chocolate, soda, or sex for 40 days. Suffer without it. Pat yourself on the back when you make it halfway. No offense to those people, but eh.

Lent is marking a renewal of sorts for me. I walked away from the Christian church in August 2015. I’m just now making my way back. I have never been turned off from the church by Jesus. Or by a believer in another faith. Or by an atheist. It’s always been a Christian that makes me want to walk away. I’m trying not to throw the baby out with the bathwater. But it’s difficult. So I’m taking the opportunity of the Lenten season to do a few things to try and strengthen my faith in Jesus and his teachings.

  1. Atheism for Lent: the wonderful Peter Rollins offers a 40 day Lenten program to take Christians through the greatest critiques of Christianity and of God. Reading writings from atheists and critiquers of religion “not to judge them, but to let them judge us.” This year’s theme is about the love affair between atheism and theism. One doesn’t exist without the other. I’m really excited about this, because I’ve reclaimed a much more progressive Christianity that listens to other voices and doesn’t exist in a fundamentalist echo chamber.
  2. The Liturgists Lent meditations: I’ve followed the Liturgists for some time now. Finding them helped me to keep from totally unravelling. This year, they are releasing meditations daily for their Patreon subscribers. I became a patron just so I could get access to these liturgies. They take the form of Lectio Divinia, which is a standard and highly used practice for Christian meditation.
  3. Bye Facebook: I wasn’t going to do this until just about an hour ago. But I decided that Facebook is completely unhelpful to what I am attempting to do this Lenten season. It’s a time suck, it gets me riled up, and I find that fundamentalist Christians on the internet make me hate God. Especially Christians who voted for 45. There is such a disconnect between the love of Christ and that man. I do not understand it. And so, I will stop attempting to understand it, and will stay off Facebook for Lent mainly to focus on the first two things I’m doing: Atheism for Lent and daily meditation practice.

The above song lyrics are from David Bazan (of Pedro the Lion fame). His 2009 album Curse Your Branches has been my Lenten playlist today. It seems fitting, since he so eloquently and emotionally struggles with his doubts on this album. It’s worth taking a look at the sincere criticisms of Christianity and religion. That’s exactly what I intend to do for the next 40 days.

Are you observing Lent? Tell me about it in the comments below!