From Christian to Atheist: Part 6

In my last year of high school, I met Linda Glassman. Shy and quiet, I started talking with her in drama class one day, and haven’t stopped yet. I don’t remember when religion came up, but I was all about the supernatural at this point, and it wouldn’t have taken long. I just know that one day, we ended up on the subject and that’s when I discovered she didn’t believe in gods. I had never met anyone who didn’t believe in God. Didn’t even know they existed, and here I was getting sweet on someone who was raised in an atheist household.

From what I’ve seen over the years, I know that Linda and her siblings were never told they couldn’t believe in gods. If they asked questions, however, those questions were answered. When Linda and I started dating, I asked a lot of questions and made a lot of statements. I was going to convince her that UFOs, ESP, and other things that go bump in the night were real, and so we talked. And talked, and talked and talked.

Linda had two things going for her in this conversation. One was that she was not hesitant in asking questions and pointing out illogical issues and inconsistencies. Given the stuff I was pushing, she had ample opportunity to question away. Second was her secret weapon. Ned and Ginny, her father and mother, were always available to answer or ask questions that she brought to them or that might come up. And this went on for quite some time.

Linda and I kept dating through high school and married soon after she graduated. At the time we married, I still held belief in a god and afterlife, though not nearly as clear as it had once been, and not quite as central. Note that we married in a secular wedding. We specifically asked that there be no mention of gods in the service, and our music was all secular. And for two more years, thus it remained.

During all this time, I started reading books by atheists, Christians, bible scholars and skeptical writers, all the while trying to figure out what the truth was, or at least what was not the truth. The more I read, the more I realized that there was no evidence for the things I believed. I realized that when I read something, even things that I felt had solid arguments, I needed to weigh the evidence and the veracity of the writer. I couldn’t just accept what I read as the truth, because now, I knew that there were some really excellent reasons why I was wrong about a lot of the things I held onto.

When I became an atheist, I didn’t do so because it was trendy or cool, or because I wanted to do evil and unspeakable things, or because I was upset with gods/God. I was always willing to give gods the benefit of the doubt, and even today, I find that hard to put aside. About a year before Jessica was born (about 1977), I realized that I no longer believed in a deity. I demanded proof, and none was forthcoming. Faith wouldn’t hack it. I required proof for evolution, for medicine, for many other things, and gods would be so much bigger than any of those things, so they needed proof too. God had finally lost the battle, and I was an atheist.

Still, it was about five years before I also gave up on an afterlife. I didn’t want to “not exist”, and when I realized that, I knew it was not a good enough reason to ignore the science and keep this one last bit of faith.

I have to be always watchful of what evidence I accept, because I still have that believer lurking around inside my head.  He wants to latch onto anything that will allow him to make an argument for an afterlife, and I know this because, he doesn’t care at all about whether the argument supports a god or not. The only real concern is, can I believe in an afterlife? And before you ask, no, I will not accept a belief system that supports an afterlife, just in case there is a chance it’s real. Pascal’s Wager fails. Evidence wins out.

I have made my peace with the notion that one day, just like everyone else who has lived and who will come after me, I will die. I will cease to be. Period. This is actually more comforting that the idea that I will be singing hosannas to Jesus for eternity. Really think about it. What would you possibly find to do for eternity? Maybe a few hundred years; heck, I would even consider living a few thousand (with a new and healthy body), but I have to admit that even that would be a pushing it. What do you do for two thousand years? When I was born, I had only one certainty, one guarantee. One day I will die. Till then, I intend to enjoy the ride whenever I can. Ups and downs, it’s an E ticket ride.