Diary of an Atheist
By Dinsoku

My transformation from Christian to atheist wasn't some humongous, life-shattering experience like others say theirs was. I didn't crawl on my knees and pray to God every night like a good little Christian. Heck, our family rarely went to church. To say that my choice to be an atheist was agonizing or even painful would be a lie. Sure, I struggled at times, but making the actual choice was relatively easy.

My family is half-Christian, half-atheist, so you could say I got to see both sides and make the right decision without any biased information. My mother is very non-religious while my father is the opposite (how they managed to get married and live together for seven years, I'll never know). I vaguely remember my father, rather suddenly, deciding to start going to church when I was eight or nine. Maybe he thought our faith needed a little tune-up. I was young, and my father had already filled our heads with stories of God and faith. It seemed exciting going to church, like I finally had something to do every Sunday.

I'm not sure which church he took us to, but I recall always going downstairs and watching religion-related videos and coloring pictures of Adam and Eve. It was like school, except you actually had fun and you could talk! Our teacher-person (not sure what to call her) would give us lunch and read from the Bible. I remember always volunteering and participating.

If there's anything you should know about me, it's this: I'm a total ass-kisser. I follow the rules, get good grades, and always suck up to my teacher. I only started rebelling when I was twelve, so church was a new ass to kiss when I was young.

One Christmas at my aunt's house, my grandfather, Pop, got me a Picture Bible. I was really excited, because I could bring to church and show everyone. I guess I felt cooler because none of the other kids brought bibles. I started reading it, and that's when I really got obsessed with religion. I didn't pray at my bed or anything, but we did start saying Grace and kept attending church. The Picture Bible (which I still have for some reason) was always fun to read. It was like a really, really long comic book, and my father read it to us before we went to sleep.

Religion was fun, in a way I almost miss it. I'm sure a lot of my good memories come from church. I never really questioned my religion; I was too busy being teacher's pet to the church. I remember things confusing me at times. I always thought it was stupid that I couldn't pray and ask God for things. In my own rebellious way I started silently asking God for that cute Barbie I saw at Toys 'R Us, or a new bike. It was against the rules, but I didn't think it mattered. I mean, if God was really nice and loved me, he'd beam that bike down from Heaven if I was a good little Christian. Just like Santa!

After awhile I got frustrated because God was ignoring me. Maybe I should ask for only one thing? Or am I praying too much and annoying Him? I eventually asked God for things less frequently and paid more attention to church instead. I remember when I turned ten or eleven I was old enough to stay with the adults and listen to the preacher. We sang hymns, which I thought was fun. I was just disappointed there weren't any songs I knew. I eventually wanted to contribute to the church and pay them money, but because I rarely got an allowance, I dropped the idea. I gave what I had on me, though. If I had a few coins I'd plop them in the dish, or I'd get my dad to cough up ten bucks.

Eventually, we went to church less often, or my dad would just forget. Plus, singing the same hymns were getting kind of irritating. After awhile, I was tired of listening to the preacher all together and I went downstairs and color. I remember feeling out of place because there were a bunch of little kids. And I got really irked, because I couldn't go upstairs because it was boring, and I couldn't color because of the annoying little kids.

The situation solved itself because Dad seemed to be tired of church too. And I justified our sudden disappearance from church by reasoning that if I loved God then there was no reason to go anyway.

My mother never took us to church. She was always more atheistic back then, but she never told us her views on the topic of religion. I found out she was an atheist, but whenever I asked her why she didn't believe in God she'd lie and say she did. I guess she didn't want our dad to get pissed at her for filling our heads with blasphemy. I loved my mom a lot, and I didn't want her to burn in Hell for not believing. I didn't want to tell her about God, though. She's smart, so she obviously already knew about Christianity. But then why didn't she see “the Light”? I figured she has her reasons and that she is what she is.

What disturbed me, though. Is that one day Mormons came to our house to tell Mom about Jesus. Our mom welcomed them in and they spent a few hours every week teaching her. I was happy that she might not be an atheist anymore, but at the same time I felt like I was losing part of my mother. After awhile she told them she wasn't interested and I remember being so relieved. I asked her why she listened to them in the first place and she said:

“I'd rather be stupid and happy, than smart and miserable.”

When she said this it angered me so much. I had always considered myself a smart person—I loved school. I turned her sentence over in my mind, and wondered what I would choose. After contemplating, I reasoned that no matter what I'd want to be smart and intelligent. But I wasn't miserable, I was a pretty happy person at that age. I didn't understand it at the time, but that sentence played a huge part in my choice to become an atheist.

When we stopped going to church, I thought less and less about religion. I began to think more about school and what I was learning there. At first I absolutely abhorred science class because I always got stuck with the mean teacher. But by seventh grade, I loved it. We got to dissect worms, which I thought was so cool. I also felt brave because most of the girls were too squeamish to do anything. For some reason I remember that I loved the smell of it too. What can I say? My nose works the wrong way and I like bad smells. It's weird.

By eighth grade, I rarely thought about religion at all, and I didn't even think about God or Jesus. That stuff just wasn't important anymore. What was important was science and school and grades. I don't remember when the school introduced us to the Big Bang Theory, but I'm pretty sure I knew about it before they told us. My mom didn't talk about the downsides of religion, but she did teach us all about science and space. I don't think the Big Bang Theory confused me at all, I just adapted by declaring that God must have started the Big Bang.

But by eighth grade, I didn't try to prove God's existence because it rarely came up. And it was in eighth grade that I claimed to be an atheist. At first I didn't even mean it when I said I was an atheist. I was having a really bad day, so I asked God for help, which was something I never did anymore. And I thought that if God never answered my “present prayers,” then He'd have to answer this one because it was important and I really wanted His help—not some random gift. I waited until I was on the bus heading home; my prayer wasn't answered. I pleaded and cried but nothing happened. I became extremely pissed, and thought:

You're not going to answer my prayer? Fine! I'm an atheist now! Take that!

I understand that it didn't really count because I was being purely emotional, and that's not the time to make a life-changing decision. But me claiming the be an “atheist,” even though I really wasn't, helped open something locked away in my subconscious mind. A few weeks later, I realized that I began to question things; forbidden things. If God created the Big Bang, then where did God come from? Or was He created by the Big Bang? But then how did the Big Bang happen? I wasn't an atheist, but I was beginning to think like one. By a creepy coincidence, we started learning about evolution in science class.

Evolution was, well, interesting to say the least. I didn't even know it contradicted God's teachings. When I told my dad—who, oddly enough, actually believes in evolution—he seemed happy that I was enjoying myself...until we learned about the Big Bang. He told me it was just a theory, and that God created the universe. I didn't get it. How can he approve of one, but not the other?

Music also contributed to my atheism. My mother, who sang us to sleep when my sister and I were small children, gave each of us our own songs that defined us. My sister's was “In My Life” by the Beatles, my little brother's was “Beautiful Boy” by John Lennon, and mine was “Imagine” by John Lennon. Coincidence, yes or no? The fact that my favorite song ever had atheistic themes (Imagine there's no Heaven...) and it was written and sang by a famous atheist, disturbed me when I was younger. I couldn't just not like the song anymore. It was my special song! And besides, John Lennon's my idol. I decided that I didn't care, if it's an atheistic song I'll still love it.

I also made my first atheist friend in eighth grade. I remember randomly asking Heather if she believed in God.

“Well,” she looked nervous.

I was nervous too. I was afraid of her answer. What if she was super religious and hated me because I didn't have enough faith?

“No.” She answered honestly.

I grinned wildly, “Oh, okay. I kind of don't.”

We became closer friends after that. She wasn't really an atheist; she told me she was Wiccan. I came to realize that I couldn't stay on the border anymore; eventually I had to make a decision. In science class we had to write a small essay about the Big Bang. I looked around nervously, and finally decided that I did, in fact, think the Big Bang Theory was true. The Big Bang made so much sense, and it had evidence to support it. I finished with some meshed up paragraphs that basically stated that “I believe in the Big Bang Theory because of the evidence.” I also added in that “even though scientists don't know what caused it, they will eventually because science always finds the answers to questions that were previously unknown.”

Our teacher asked us to read them to the class from our desks. As my peers read theirs, I realized not everyone believed in the Big Bang. One kid stood up and said, “I don't believe in the Big Bang because God created the universe.” A majority of them said something along those lines. I suddenly felt very alone, and very empty. I think it was a day or so after this that I decided to become an atheist. I suddenly became angry, why can't they see that there's evidence and that it makes sense? When the teacher picked me, I stood up, opened my mouth, and proudly read my essay to the class.

A few days later, some guy in my grade was asking everyone if they believed in God. I was standing behind him in the lunch line, when he whirled around and asked: “Do you believe in God?”

I thought about the day before, and how I felt when the students ignored evidence and claimed that God created the universe. I looked him straight in the eyes and said, “No. I don't.”

He then called me blasphemer and chanted something like, “The power of Christ compels you!” over and over again. I was too busy grinning in triumph to care what he called me. I was an atheist. And I was happy. I was happy!

I felt so relieved when I got home that night. I huge weight had been removed from my chest, and I felt powerful, because I had moved that weight by myself. Of course, I always go through days when I'm unsure about my decision. And I always wonder what would have happened if my life had taken another direction. But I'm happy being an atheist, and people should be content with what they believe. A person forced into Christianity shouldn't stay a Christian if they don't want to. And a person forced into atheism shouldn't stay an atheist. People should make their own choices.

I have respect for Christians, because I know for a fact that not all of them are ignorant bigots. I have a Christian friend named Cassidy who is perfectly fine with my atheism, so, in turn, I'm fine with her religion. It isn't the people who follow the religion I hate, it's the religion. Let everyone be what they want to be.

The End.