A Silent Departure (my de-Converstion story)

June 27, 2009 at 11:51 am 29 comments

I have been reading articles here for awhile now, intending to share my own de-conversion story eventually. I must say, I’ve been impressed with the tone of this site. It seems like a great place for thoughtful interaction.

For someone who is just now publicly “coming out” from a religious background as hopelessly fundamental and conservative as mine, it’s encouraging to find a faithless friend or two who can relate to my own experience. I hope that by sharing my own story, I can be of some encouragement to you as well, wherever you happen to be in your life.

Here we go…

The Missionary Kid

My story begins in the tropical jungle of north-central Brazil, where I was born and where I spent the majority of my childhood growing up as a missionary kid. My dad was a high school teacher, and my family lived on the campus of a boarding school that served to educate kids whose parents were off spreading the Christian Gospel. Some of these parents were Bible translators living with Indian tribes, others were support staff stationed in different cities in Brazil. Our little school was where they sent their kids to get an education. It was only a small school—during my time there, the student body probably averaged around 40 or so students every year, from first grade all the way through high school.

But I’ve gotta say, it was a pretty sweet place to grow up! Year-round tropical weather, jungle for camping and exploring as far as you could walk, and the murky Amazon River for fishing and swimming. If it sounds like a little boy’s paradise, that’s because it was. I learned from a very young age to love the sport of soccer (Brazilians like to say that “God plays soccer”). I had the chance to visit primitive Indian tribes. I managed to acquire a conversational level of Portuguese, even though we were somewhat isolated from Brazilian influence and culture. For example, to reach the city of Manaus, where we got our supplies, we had to travel by boat to a nearby village that had road access and then take a bus or taxi into the main city.

We did have interaction with the Brazilians around us, but it wasn’t quite the same as growing up completely immersed in their culture. One form of contact was a Sunday morning outreach ministry with a small community downriver. And we would often invite local soccer teams to come play soccer and volleyball games with us. But there was something so irreconcilably foreign about us. English was our default language. To be honest, we were our own little missionary community, a mostly-American boarding school that looked very much like a colony in a strange land.

My religious upbringing was very conservative, to put it nicely. Lots of people can say the same thing, I know. I don’t need to go into all the details. Let’s just say that at 25, I still have some trouble relating to the opposite sex because of the crazy legalistic restrictions that carefully crafted a pretty little Christian bubble around me as I grew up.

My background also added a certain amount of cultural confusion to the whole fundamentalism schtick. Like I said, our school was significantly isolated, enough to make me realize (much later in life) that I really couldn’t call myself a true Brazilian, even though I was born in Manaus and therefore possess full citizenship, voter and taxpayer cards, and military registration papers. I remember when I was eighteen, going into a building with a bunch of teenaged Brazilian guys I didn’t know, in order to get myself dismissed from mandatory military service. I was nervous, scared, and very uncertain. I was the only guy with white skin. I was the only one who got laughed at by the whole crowd when the uniformed officer called out my name and completely butchered it beyond recognition. Because he was Brazilian and couldn’t pronounce my American name.

I really wasn’t Brazilian. But what about American? I was only partly American, due to the almost complete ignorance regarding American culture that I grew up in. Two passports, one person, no country… So what was I?

Just a missionary kid, I guess, whose real culture was a uniquely structured boarding school sub-culture.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. Growing up, all of this was okay with me. I had a loving family and plenty of fun stuff to do. We never lacked anything we needed. I was happy, and I grew up feeling somewhat privileged to experience the things I did. I have nothing negative at all to say about my parents, who nurtured me well and raised me up with plenty of love. I want to specifically point this out, because I know other ex-religious types who come from dysfunctional family backgrounds and were motivated to leave the faith for that reason. My experience wasn’t like that. My deconversion had nothing to do with any kind of abuse.

And while I’m at it, let me also point out that I’m not aiming to undermine any particular person at all, and I’m definitely not intending to direct any sort of bitter anger toward the wonderful little missionary school I grew up at. I used to be bitter. I’m not that way anymore—now, I’m just more willing to be vocal about my (un)beliefs. If people are offended, so be it, but I’m very much open to fair and respectful discussions.

Getting back on subject, my deconversion—which didn’t have anything to do with any sort of abuse—did have a lot to do with my experience as a missionary kid, which is why I took the time to write something about it.

The God Experience

I don’t know how many missionary kids struggle with self-identity. I’ve talked to some who certainly did. I know others who really don’t seem to have any problems adjusting at all. Good for them. I remember crying behind closed doors as I read a book called Third Culture Kids. I mostly kept my struggles to myself, but they were always very real. A cautious introvert, I usually chose to suffer by myself.

I eventually realized that I wasn’t much of a Brazilian because of the situation I grew up in. I wanted to be one; I wanted to have an identity, and the only identity I wanted was the Brazilian one—mainly because I simply could not relate to my American peers once I came to the States for Bible school.

And I really didn’t try that hard to relate, because by the time I had graduated from high school in Brazil, I was entirely convinced that the fundamental religion I’d been taught was the one and only Truth. It was part of my identity. I was a Christian. I was a Christian missionary kid, for the love of God! Far away from Brazil (which at the time still felt like my true home), I refused to call snowy, frozen Wisconsin anything but my temporary Bible school adventure. I fully intended to return to Brazil as a missionary.

But my ideas about God and life were too extreme even for most of the Christian friends I made in the States after high school, as I quickly discovered. My collection of unrealistic beliefs, combined with the social confusion I was feeling due to my radically different cultural background, incited some debilitating struggles.

The God experience, which up until my first year of college had been nothing more than casual acquiescence to doctrinal statements, now became a legalistic drive in a desperate effort to justify the things I knew to be true and carve out a place of acceptance for myself. I couldn’t relate to the culture I lived in. I was far away from the little sub-culture I was comfortable in. So I looked for God more sincerely than I ever had before. And I tried to do it all by myself.

For awhile I thought I had found him. I thought my daily devotions and prayers were what fueled the spiritual life. But things never seemed to line up in my head. I was aware of a tension early on, a strained feeling of exasperation as I racked up the brownie points with God. I was doing everything I had been taught to do in order to find God, and I could never seem to get as far with God as other people around me.

To be honest, I was a hopeless legalist. My religion was one of doctrinal statements and petty debates about theological foundations. My God was a powerless God. Technically, as is the case with so many fundamentalists, my god was not God but the Bible.

But once again, I’m getting ahead of myself. If I wasn’t finding God, I thought, then maybe I didn’t understand my doctrine correctly. And the result of weighing that one thought was pretty much the initiation of a long, despairing search for doctrinal cohesion that ended in apostasy.

And as I moved on through Bible school, eventually transferring from Wisconsin to a college in Chicago, I became more and more disillusioned with God—simply because the personal, all-powerful, loving God of theology was actually none of these things for me in my own life. My experience of God was nonexistent, and I was finally beginning to realize how incredibly problematic this was for my entire belief system. My God left me empty and hopeless. I could not find a reasonable place to stop my theological investigation, a place from which I could build a good solid doctrinal foundation—every doctrine debunked led directly to another one that had to be questioned. God never stepped in to help me out, so what was I supposed to do? It’s not like I didn’t pray for help.

My incessantly inquisitive mind kept right on inquiring, and it carried me straight into the darkest time of my entire life. And as I came up with question after question, the fear of condemnation always kept me from mentioning the thoughts that burned inside of me.

A Nihilistic Angst

My experience with depression started about the time I finished my studies at the Wisconsin Bible school. I lived in an apartment with some friends for a year, trying to make sense of what in the world was happening with my life. I had kept an infrequent journal in high school, but now I started writing a lot. Whenever I was depressed, I wrote. I basically wrote to stay alive. The only times I didn’t write were 1) the rare times I was really happy, and 2) the times when the simple task of writing required more motivation than my depressed mind could muster. Usually, writing was a very practical method of staying on top of things emotionally, because I could say whatever I wanted and keep it all to myself. Because I was able to write, I was able to talk myself out of all my suicidal thoughts and maintain the minimal amount of passion for life.

Because of my tendency towards legalism, I had gradually developed some pretty severe feelings of guilt, inconsistency, and failure because I simply could not live up to what I knew was right. I was evil. I was a sinner. I was supposed to be perfect, but I wasn’t. In time, I realized that these feelings were direct results of my religion, but not before discovering what it really meant to be depressed.

There’s nothing quite like it. I rode the roller coaster for awhile. Up and down. Climbing to spiritual highs, where I thought I was in close communion with God; sliding down to demonic depths that rocked my fragile faith and spun me into doubt and despair. I went back and forth between striving to believe in God and viciously hating him. I interpreted my struggle with depression through the fractured, darkened vision of a religion that led me to believe I was under demonic attack.

One memory from my time in Wisconsin stands out sharply in my mind. I was in my apartment, trying to deal with another bout of depression that had been bothering me all day and keeping me from getting anything done at all. As it grew worse, I became convinced that a very evil presence was with me in the room. I felt that something very evil was happening. I remember lying on my back on my roommate’s bed, staring at the ceiling, writhing around as the yellow lamp light seemed to fill the room, blurring my vision. I thought the ceiling was getting farther and farther away from me. And I knew right then that a demon was there, right next to me.

I don’t remember how it ended. I think the evil effect gradually died down and I eventually went to bed. But I felt this evil on a couple more occasions as well. Even as I moved on in life and transferred to the school in Chicago, I was still clinging to the idea that my depression was only a spiritual battle, and that I would conquer it one day. Right before I moved to Chicago, I experienced another session with despair. Here I was, getting ready to start at the school that would eventually award me my baccalaureate, and I was wondering if I should just kill myself instead. A fine situation for a Christian to be in!

As I continued my education, my investigation of Christian doctrine also continued. I was constantly reading extra-curricular material and writing down ideas, thoughts, and personal rants. The amount of disagreement I found among theologians and philosophers was quickly weighing down my mind (which doesn’t understand philosophy very well anyways), and causing me to ask very practical questions about the meaning of life and the ability of my Christian fundamental religion to really answer any of my questions satisfactorily. This is why I became disillusioned with God—I was sickened by all the petty debates and strained theo-philosophical arguments, which generally offered nothing to a mind starving for anything truly practical.

And all this time, God never spoke to me or helped me, even when I asked. Soon I started treating him like I treated most everybody else—I just stopped asking for help.

I could go on endlessly by listing questions that I was asking and not getting any answers for, but that’s not really necessary here. The most basic failures of my religion from my point of view were that 1) it simply could not offer purpose-giving answers to life’s questions, and 2) it often bluntly refused to even try to give those answers. I examined cessationism, I examined inerrancy, I researched eschatology. Everything I’d been taught was quickly scrapped. Doctrine after doctrine died a hopeless death, and I became a heretic in hiding.

As I entered my last year of Bible school, I was finally stabilizing both emotionally and intellectually. The intensity of my depression was waning and slowly transforming into a sort of nihilistic angst, prompted by my increasingly liberal theological decisions and the tiny, conservative Christian bubble in which those decisions were doomed to be housed, at least until I finished my degree program. Over time, I had realized that my struggles with doubt and despair were very much connected to both my cultural background and my fundamentalist upbringing. Before I even graduated, I knew I was no longer a Christian, and could never return to the faith.

Because all I wanted was something practical to help me live a normal life that everyone else seemed to be living. All I needed was the freedom to enjoy what normal people enjoyed. All I craved was release from the years of tension and hypocrisy that had followed me across thousands of miles of jungle, ocean, and snow-covered, frozen Midwestern landscapes.

And that’s my basic story. It’s been an interesting ride so far. I still have to deal with depression, but it’s nothing like the old familiar darkness. And the desperate writing that fueled my passion for life turned into a creative hobby that will stay with me until the day I die a happy death, free from the God who actually led me to consider suicide.

Now that I’ve rejected Christ, the joy that Christians always talked about experiencing is finally mine.

Faith failed me, but now I am saved by works.

Ancient manuscripts confused me and misled me, so now I write my own Scriptures.

And since turning my back on God, I’ve been amazed by how much new hope and meaning I’ve been able to find. My life without God is, without a doubt, the best life I’ve ever had.

Thanks for reading! Your thoughts are anticipated and appreciated.

– Brandt (guest contributor)

Entry filed under: ~Guest. Tags: , , , .

The Sky’s the Limit- a Poetic look at De-converting The death of a pet (and how it relates to religion)

29 Comments Add your own

  • 1. atimetorend  |  June 28, 2009 at 11:50 am

    Nicely written. You have been through so many extremes; culture, theology, doctrines, emotions; awesome you are sorting through it all and coming out on the other side OK.

  • 2. The Jesting Fool  |  June 28, 2009 at 1:10 pm

    Thanks. Writing it out really helps to sort it all out. Although I’m not sure I’m completely “OK” 😉

  • 3. Quester  |  June 28, 2009 at 3:05 pm

    Thanks for sharing this with us, Jesting.

  • 4. sia  |  June 28, 2009 at 6:09 pm

    I admire your strength to deal with this and sincerity to tell us about your way out!!
    It is very hard to get out of the fundamentalistic doctrine, where you worship bible, have boxed in logic and must live up to unrealistic standart.
    Many people have never heard about christ, but do well, lots of people agree that god is one for all, without judgement and hell, some people belive in balance of good and eval – most just see the laws of this universe as the basis of things.
    Biblical fundamentalists are viewed as a sect in Europe and are outlawed. They have to hide under umbrella organizations to get into the country. They are outlawed because they are dangerous to people and it is very hard to get out.
    See if you can download Zeitgeist and watch 1st part – where it tells about origins of the religion and reasons for the religion. Note that biblical fundamentalizm originated mainly in the USA and spreads out. Read “Foundation” by Isaak Asimov about the establishment of the new galaxy empire – first to go to conquire are the missionaries. Rest to follow. Then the rule of the conquireer will begin, missionaries go faithfully believing in what they preach. Azimov shows well how miracles are created in his “Foundation”.
    Here is good link

  • 5. SnugglyBuffalo  |  June 29, 2009 at 1:35 pm

    I saw most of Zeitgeist, and I wasn’t really impressed with it. It put forward some interesting ideas in the first part, but a lot of them were more speculation than anything. And some of the assertions comparing Jesus to other mythical figures I couldn’t find any support for.

    And then the movie dives into all-out crazy with its conspiracy theories.

    It has some thought-provoking ideas, but all-in-all it doesn’t appear to be very reliable.

  • 6. Kyle  |  July 1, 2009 at 12:58 pm

    I felt deep sorrow as you told of your experience with depression. I too suffered from major depression for many years. (There should be a better word – “depression” is so clinical and nondescript. William Styron suggested “brainstorm” if that were not already taken). It truly is a terrifying and agonizing experience beyond comprehension for those who have not gone through it. Fortunately for me, the Christian circle I was a part of did not interpret mental illness as a spiritual weakness or demonic attack, and advised medical and professional treatment. It was a grave disservice for you to have been led to believe that it was a spiritual or demonic issue. I am glad you came out on top.

    Even though I remain a Christian, I still agree that you are currently in a much better place than when you were in your “Christian” prison. (From what you describe, it doesn’t sound like what you experienced was very Christian anyway.) If, hypothetically, Christianity happens to be true and there is a God, I believe he will be compassionate regarding your experiences.

  • 7. Kyle  |  July 1, 2009 at 1:15 pm

    Sorry in advance for this tangential comment, as it is not directly related to Brandt’s de-conversion story.

    I was wondering whether the de-converts (?) of this online community wonder why Christians read this blog. Obviously some read it to argue with you and attempt to prove you wrong (to keep their own questions at bay?) or to convince you to come back to the faith.

    I asked myself why I have started reading this blog, which I discovered only recently. I guess it started as curiosity, and a desire to find out where the church was failing people (“by existing” you say – sadly true in some cases). Now I think I come back to give myself a sense of humility in my beliefs, and to experience a redemptive, supporting community, regardless of its (un)beliefs. It is too bad Christians tend not to respond to doubters and disbelievers with love and compassion. I guess in their mind the only compassionate thing to do is to convince them they are wrong. But we are called primarily to love, and that includes giving people the freedom to reject our beliefs without changing their status from “friend” to “enemy.”

  • 8. The Jesting Fool  |  July 1, 2009 at 1:37 pm


    First of all, thank you for your very kind and compassionate reaction to my story. You can relate, and you’re not judging me for rejecting God because of my religious background and experience. I don’t believe in God, but as you said, if I turn out to be wrong, then that God will probably have compassion on me.

    And your “tangent” is perfectly justified. I think it’s great that Christians read this site. That fact doesn’t make me wonder. What makes me wonder is when Christians visit sites like this simply to judge and try to convince people that they are wrong and going to hell. But you aren’t doing that; you are reacting with love and humility. You are actually applying the teachings of Christ concerning love. People like you are the reason I can still have respect for religious people.

    Whatever my experience of “Christianity” appears to be to you, for me it was “the real thing,” if that makes any sense. It may not have included what you understand as the essence of Christianity, but to me it did. Certain aspects of Christianity still appeal to me, but most of it repels me. I have had a hard time dealing with anger and bitterness because of my religious background, and I am currently trying to learn how to not be so offensive toward religion in certain other places where I do my writing (my blog, for instance). It’s hard. It’s so easy to piss people off by what I say.

    So thanks for the comment. Maybe I can learn from your kindness. 😉

  • 9. David Edward Oliver, BS.  |  July 2, 2009 at 4:17 pm

    I came from a Baptist home, rasing in a Baptist church, attended a Baptist school and even a Baptist College (Liberty University); but I feel away from the faith and I am now an agnostic. I have actually gone from bad to worse concerning my life and I have very little hope for myself. I admit when I rejected Christianity the morality went out with it. I am living proof Jesus can’t save anyone or anything. I just wish I could find something else to believe in.

  • 10. Quester  |  July 2, 2009 at 5:50 pm


    Have you tried being someone that others can believe in, or creating something others can believe in? Not a scam or a superstition, but a role model or a purpose? Christian or not, helping others can still be one of the best ways to help yourself.

  • 11. David Edward Oliver, BS.  |  July 2, 2009 at 8:20 pm

    I need a role model. Someone to base my life on. So I chose to use Aang the Avatar; he is a great person. (I know he is a cartoon; but I still love him to pieces)

  • 12. Quester  |  July 2, 2009 at 9:51 pm

    O-kay. I hope that helps you.

  • 13. Jeffrey  |  July 2, 2009 at 10:36 pm

    Great story Brandt! It took me a lot of deprogramming, but life does eventually get much better than it is before leaving the fold.

    It’s been said that deconversion can only happen when the pain of remaining inside exceeds the pain of leaving. (Of course, in cases like yours, the mental gymnastics needed to remain a believer are themselves the source of the pain.)

    Kyle: “I was wondering whether the de-converts (?) of this online community wonder why Christians read this blog.”

    Intellectual honesty, I suppose. In my mind, the primary mark of someone who’s trying to really evaluate their own beliefs is if they are willing to learn what the other side has to say directly from their mouths.

    While I certainly think honesty tends to lead in a particular direction, I don’t deny that many Christians are making a sincere attempt to be rational (which is all any of us can do.)

  • 14. Frreal  |  July 3, 2009 at 10:09 am

    David the believer forgot his sarcasm tag. Just his way of saying nonbelievers are immoral. What’s new.

  • 15. Frreal  |  July 3, 2009 at 10:13 am


    Thanks for your story. I appreciate every single one of you that has shared your experiences. They are personal and difficult and continue to be helpful for myself and I imagine those like me who literally have nothing but this site for validation.

  • 16. The Jesting Fool  |  July 3, 2009 at 10:57 am

    @David Edward Oliver: Hey David. Thanks for commenting. Aang the Avatar is a good role model, but I’d suggest something more practical like a bottle of Jack Daniels. It helps numb the pain.

  • 17. The Jesting Fool  |  July 3, 2009 at 11:02 am

    @Frreal: I’m glad you found my story helpful. I think it’s great to have a site where people can share stories and identify with each other.

    Do you really have nothing but this site for validation? I’ve been fortunate to find a few new friends in the past year who share my unbelief, and it has helped me enormously. I’m glad that you at least have this site to come to, but I really hope you can also find more direct methods for helping you cope. If you’re ever in Chicago hit me up and I’ll buy you a drink.

  • 18. Joshua  |  July 5, 2009 at 3:14 am

    Brandt, incredible story. So much of what you shared I can connect with… especially the feeling of the presence of demons. One of them happened while I was at school. At the time I always fluttered back and forth between extreme egotistical tendencies (I must be such a good Christian for being “attacked” this way) and extreme depression (why is this happening to me? where is God?) Either way I can relate to the depression. It lasted about 8-10 years for me. Since leaving I have discovered a direct correlation between how far I get from the faith and how much happier I am.

    Great to see you finally got your story up! Peace, friend!

  • 19. gracesong815  |  July 25, 2009 at 5:37 pm

    Hey Jesting Fool,
    I’m glad you found your way out fo the maze. Your story hits somewhat close to home because I’ve got a very close friend who’s in somewhat of the same boat as you are in the sense that she was brought up in the mission field.
    Your point about feeling like you don’t belong to either culture was rather poignant and one that I’d not considered.
    From mutual friends of ours, I heard that she cussed at work and said that all this sh*t was getting to be too stressful for her (in reference to the pressures of school).
    I wonder if she’ll ever come to this point?
    Anyway, sorry for the rant and hang in there! 🙂

  • 20. The Jesting Fool  |  July 26, 2009 at 3:47 am


    That’s interesting… I hope that your friend is able to figure out a way to deal with the things she’s struggling with. I’m sure that you, as her friend, are helping her as well as you can.

    Swearing really does take off the stress in certain situations, of course! … but sometimes people just need lots of time to fully adjust to new cultures.

    btw, what do you mean, “I wonder if she’ll ever come to this point”? To the point of atheism?

  • 21. (Un)belief « Fugitives from Fundamentalism  |  August 3, 2009 at 1:00 pm

    […] the Slippery Slope is long, complicated, and also probably very boring. You can read about it on the de-conversion website if you feel like it. I’m not going to get into all the details right now, but one of the main […]

  • 22. Ryn Darknight  |  August 6, 2009 at 7:19 am


    Thanks for writing your story. I can relate to so much of what you say including the suicidal depression. I am no longer a Christian, but it took me until I was in my thirties to realize that as a belief system it did not make sense.

    All the best,

  • 23. Brandt  |  August 6, 2009 at 1:08 pm

    Hey Ryn,

    Thanks for reading. I’m glad you can relate to my story; it’s always good to find people with similar experiences.


  • 24. Jerry  |  August 10, 2009 at 11:40 am

    Thank you for your story. I found it really inspiring and courageous. I wish you the best,

  • 25. Brandt  |  August 10, 2009 at 2:11 pm

    Thanks Jerry!

  • 26. Perry  |  October 6, 2009 at 4:28 pm

    Well, I have had and am going through the same experience. I am not a true “atheist”, but a pure naturalist i.e. “god”, “goddess” etc are just man-made labels (along with all associated ridiculous dogma) for the natural forces of the universe. Supernaturalism/spirituality=stupidity. It is in my view, based on personal experience, brain damage due to delusion. Repeated negativity (from delusional fears) will actually release detrimental chemicals to leading to actual physical damage or pre-mature ageing.
    I actually still suffer from intense “pain” which makes my world seem negative, but I’m only about a year into the de-conversion process.
    Best, Perry

  • 27. Brandt  |  October 6, 2009 at 4:43 pm

    Thanks for the comment, Perry. I do hope the pain you speak of subsides eventually. Find some like-minded friends to share your thoughts with; that helps a lot. De-conversion can be really stressful!

  • 28. jordan  |  April 12, 2010 at 2:37 am

    Firstly, let me say that you are a talented writer. I am normally very picky with my syntactical tastes but I was quite pleased by what I read here. Keep up the good work! Have you written/considered writing a book?

    I also come from a religious home and had a very heart-wrenching deconversion process that lead to a lot of hurtful behavior. My beliefs were very forgiving in many ways – one had only to know God to be forgiven – but no matter how hard I tried, I never truly found peace because of my sexuality. I never had any kind of celestial reassurance in my favor; in fact, my religion led me to a lot of drug abuse and self medication that I never would have indulged in otherwise.

    Now I’m clean, unbelieving, and couldn’t be happier. I’ve just turned eighteen and will be going to college soon. It’s good to be free.

  • 29. Brandt  |  April 12, 2010 at 12:45 pm

    Thanks for the comment, Jordan. No, I’ve never written a book, but naturally I’ve had thoughts about it. Of course, those thoughts usually just turn into a random collection of notes which are stowed away for future reference, and then forgotten. We’ll see. Maybe someday…

    Good luck to you as you begin your college career! I wish my de-conversion had taken place before college instead of later, but it is what it is, and I’m just happy to be out of that whole mindfuck.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Trackback this post  |  Subscribe to the comments via RSS Feed

Today’s Featured Link

Attention Christian Readers

Just in case you were wondering who we are and why we de-converted.

de-conversion wager

Whether or not you believe in God, you should live your life with love, kindness, compassion, mercy and tolerance while trying to make the world a better place. If there is no God, you have lost nothing and will have made a positive impact on those around you. If there is a benevolent God reviewing your life, you will be judged on your actions and not just on your ability to blindly believe in creeds- when there is a significant lack of evidence on how to define God or if he/she even exists.



Blog Stats

  • 2,163,212 hits since March 2007