Hello you,
Welcome to Sunday Soul Care.
I have to start by saying thanks for all the encouragement I’ve received about this series over the last few weeks. It has been so cathartic to put my thoughts and feelings about officially leaving Christianity into words, yet also pretty darn vulnerable. Hearing so many of you say “yes—me too!” and express gratitude has made it a really wonderful and supportive experience.
I also just want to sort of acknowledge the heaviness that I’m feeling after so many tragedies lately in my beloved home state of CA. Sometimes I feel like my body holds collective grief like a weight, and it’s hard to get out from under it. So if you’re feeling heavy and you don’t know why, maybe you’re feeling it too.
But what’s our choice? We keep going, and we keep living as truly and as freely as we can, knowing that’s our best chance at making the most of this life.
For me, part of that means being all done forming my spirituality to anyone’s expectations but my own.
So, without further ado, here’s the final installment of this month’s series: Why I’m Not a Christian Anymore.
THOUGHT
Reason #3: Because I don’t have to be one anymore.
Last year I shared a reel with this text: “TFW deconstructing Christianity feels like you’ve been set free, filled with joy, rescued from despair, saved from rules and laws that didn’t work… and you realize that’s exactly how you used to describe becoming a Christian.”
It’s ironic, but it’s true. The joy in my heart, the giddiness of grasping my autonomy, the healing of pain from the past is the stuff of the best testimony videos we ever showed on Easter Sunday. I want to shout it from the rooftops and tell people all about my brand new relationship with God and how becoming a non-Christian has changed my life forever.
The difference, however, is that I’m no longer under the impression that just because something is right for me, that it is definitely right for you, too. For many of you, keeping the label and core beliefs of Christianity is just as meaningful as losing them has been to me.
So maybe the point is less about leaving a religion, or arriving at any certain conclusion, and more about the act of taking ownership of your own spirituality. Maybe the reason why my parent’s experience of converting to Christianity in their late 20s sounds so similar to my experience of converting out of Christianity in my late 30s, is because both transitions reflect how wonderful it is to exert choice and autonomy in our spiritual lives.
I was never directly coerced into Christianity, but I also never feel like I was presented with any other viable options. I don't blame anyone for this—it is good for children to hold the values of their tribe. I asked Jesus into my heart in kindergarten after learning about hell and how to avoid it at my private Christian school. “What idiot wouldn’t ask Jesus into their hearts?” I remember thinking (in some five-year-old version of that sentiment), and praised myself for being smart enough to do what everyone said I should do.
I became a pastor's kid shortly after and epitomized the role in the Christian subculture of the 80s and 90s: reading my Bible, closing my eyes during worship, and inviting my friends to church (but not as many as I was supposed to). We had the truth, because we just did, and anyone who wasn’t Christian was lost. Anytime I learned about other beliefs or lifestyles or religions, it was always in the context of pointing out their mistakes to bolster confidence in my own beliefs, or to give us insight into how better to debate them into converting.
It was all in a (mostly) loving and nurturing context, though I know some of you were not so lucky. But looking back, I can see so clearly:
I never truly made a choice to be a Christian.
So perhaps the most shocking part of my own deconstruction was, while slowly releasing one rotten belief at a time, I eventually found myself at a fork in the road: I may not have chosen to be a Christian before, but I can choose whether or not I want to be a Christian now.
I stood at the fork for a while. I knew that one path continued me on a rich tradition, where I would be able to find a welcoming community, the ease of having a label and an established home for my faith.
But eventually, due perhaps to my personal brand of curiosity or wanderlust, I couldn’t deny the pull I felt to the other side. My heart was ready to try something new; something I haven’t ever known before.
When presented with the question, “Do you want to keep finding God in this one way, or do you want to try finding God in all the ways?” five-year-old Joy and I looked at each other with bright eyes and agreed:
We want to find God in all the ways.
And so I made the choice to leave the path of Christianity.
I like not being a Christian. Like, I really love it. Like I said a few weeks ago, I love that I don’t have to differentiate what kind of Christian I am from the bad actors of the faith anymore. I love that I can be open to learning about God and spirituality from other faith traditions and not be obligated to use that information to proselytize them. I love that I can explore all the mystical energy and connection I’ve felt with the universe my whole life and not worry that I’m opening myself up to demonic influence. I love feeling like I’m on equal footing with all the humans in my sphere of influence, and no longer walk around thinking that I have the key to truth and that they don’t. I love not having any plans on Sunday mornings.
In a sense, it feels like unbecoming a Christian is the most natural outflow of my entire Christian experience.
All the best, truest parts of my past faith are still informing me now.
If following Jesus means living a life of humility, love, and sacrifice,
if being sanctified is the process of being healed from the inside out,
if devotion is deepening my connection with the divine Spirit dwelling within me,
if growing in faith means trusting that inner discernment even when it seems to make no sense,
if growing in love for God means opening my mind more and more to how big God really is,
if sharing the good news means letting people know our past mistakes and histories don’t have to hold us back from embracing fullness, healing and love,
then leaving Christianity isn’t a rejection of my faith but the continuation of it.
I made my choice. For now, at least. Maybe someday, I’ll make another. And you have a choice, too. What is calling you home? That’s where you should go.
AFFIRMATION
If you were indoctrinated into a faith
And never given the option
To doubt, to choose, or to discern for yourself,
May I highly recommend
Taking your spiritual autonomy
Back from whichever well-meaning individual first pulled it out of your hands
And decide for yourself
Where you want to go next.
I still have a few spiritual coaching spots available for next month. If you are ready to leave your religious past behind and figure out what spirituality looks like moving forward, I’d love to use my brainpower to help you articulate your own thoughts, feelings and hopes, and to create a personalized spirituality that feels like home to you. If that sounds good to you, send a quick reply and say “Tell me more!”
I hope you’ve enjoyed this series. Thanks for being my companions in this crazy slide down the slippery slope. I guess they were right after all - question one thing, and it allllll falls apart (they just didn't realize how good it could be when it all falls apart).
I'll be back next week with a new series for February and a big update to share (!).
See you then,
Joy