ways when we have been together. I do feel some sadness and wonder what hurt and deep disappointments have precipitated your journey from faith to reason.”
That is another theme I heard a lot: “How were you hurt?” Although my deconversion to atheism was intellectual, not emotional, I suppose it is true that I suffered some “deep disappointments.” I was initially saddened, for example, to learn that the bible is not as reliable as I had been taught to believe it was. So, yes, it hurt to know that I had been deceived, deliberately or innocently, by people whom I had trusted. But my problem was not with those people: it was with the truth of the claims of Christianity.
Shirley and Verlin Cox had regularly helped me arrange meetings in Indiana. “I must admit to a bit of a shock,” Shirley wrote. “At first I wanted to write a ‘preachy’ letter to you but after much reflection and prayer I realize you know more ‘bible’ than I and Verlin will ever know. We haven’t been through college the way you have… Yes, we are broken hearted that you’ve rejected our Lord but we have hope and our prayers will continue. While in Florida last year we were delighted to see your ‘ Mary Had a Little Lamb ,’ and churches in Indiana in our area still present it. Oh yes, ‘ Mary Had ’ was a puppet show on TV.”
I received a letter from Sister Tammy Schinhofen, of whom I had no memory: “About eight years ago you were instrumental in my accepting Jesus as my personal Savior . I thank God that I am a jewel placed in your crown. Don’t let the enemy take away or tarnish your crown.” She was referring to the belief that Christians will someday rule the universe alongside God; hence, we will all be wearing a kingly (or queenly) crown. But doesn’t this make it a status symbol? “My crown has more jewels than yours!”
One of my best friends was a man who was largely responsible for the promotional success of my musicals, a strong Christian who had little need for organized religion. It was not easy for him, being gay in a fundamentalist community. He wrote: “I don’t know if I can say I ‘enjoyed’ your letter—there must be a better word. I know how you feel. I’ve surely been there myself (may still be there). What struck me so forcefully was the realization that ‘the Christians’ react to your questioning as they do, not because you have lost your faith, but because you have lost theirs !” That’s a great line! It would have been just as bad if I had converted to Islam or Mormonism. But he was wrong. I had actually lost faith, not just someone else’s faith, but the very concept of faith as a valid tool of knowledge. Well, no, I had not lost faith: I had discarded it, thrown it away, rejected its value. I wouldn’t say, “I lost my cancer,” or that an illness is something to be missed. However, I am certain that to this friend, my commitment to rationality was a kind of “faith,” or substitute for faith, and in that context his remarks were meaningful.
I heard from many people to whom I had not mailed my letter, so the gossip must have been flying. Many of the letters were sincere, but without content. “I don’t have any answers,” wrote one friend. “It’s not a matter of logic or intelligence,” wrote another. “Human intellectual ability and capacities, no matter how great, are not sufficient,” wrote a woman faith healer.
Many of the letters contained ad hominem arguments. One coworker told me that I had “given in to the desires of self life” (What other kind of life is there?), and a neighbor wrote that I must be “hurt and bitter.” Another tried to get me to admit my “deep wounds.” A woman preacher announced that “sometime along the way you became angry with God.” (If true, why is that my problem?) A former co-pastor told me that “you are on a selfish journey at the expense of your own integrity.” How does he define
That is another theme I heard a lot: “How were you hurt?” Although my deconversion to atheism was intellectual, not emotional, I suppose it is true that I suffered some “deep disappointments.” I was initially saddened, for example, to learn that the bible is not as reliable as I had been taught to believe it was. So, yes, it hurt to know that I had been deceived, deliberately or innocently, by people whom I had trusted. But my problem was not with those people: it was with the truth of the claims of Christianity.
Shirley and Verlin Cox had regularly helped me arrange meetings in Indiana. “I must admit to a bit of a shock,” Shirley wrote. “At first I wanted to write a ‘preachy’ letter to you but after much reflection and prayer I realize you know more ‘bible’ than I and Verlin will ever know. We haven’t been through college the way you have… Yes, we are broken hearted that you’ve rejected our Lord but we have hope and our prayers will continue. While in Florida last year we were delighted to see your ‘ Mary Had a Little Lamb ,’ and churches in Indiana in our area still present it. Oh yes, ‘ Mary Had ’ was a puppet show on TV.”
I received a letter from Sister Tammy Schinhofen, of whom I had no memory: “About eight years ago you were instrumental in my accepting Jesus as my personal Savior . I thank God that I am a jewel placed in your crown. Don’t let the enemy take away or tarnish your crown.” She was referring to the belief that Christians will someday rule the universe alongside God; hence, we will all be wearing a kingly (or queenly) crown. But doesn’t this make it a status symbol? “My crown has more jewels than yours!”
One of my best friends was a man who was largely responsible for the promotional success of my musicals, a strong Christian who had little need for organized religion. It was not easy for him, being gay in a fundamentalist community. He wrote: “I don’t know if I can say I ‘enjoyed’ your letter—there must be a better word. I know how you feel. I’ve surely been there myself (may still be there). What struck me so forcefully was the realization that ‘the Christians’ react to your questioning as they do, not because you have lost your faith, but because you have lost theirs !” That’s a great line! It would have been just as bad if I had converted to Islam or Mormonism. But he was wrong. I had actually lost faith, not just someone else’s faith, but the very concept of faith as a valid tool of knowledge. Well, no, I had not lost faith: I had discarded it, thrown it away, rejected its value. I wouldn’t say, “I lost my cancer,” or that an illness is something to be missed. However, I am certain that to this friend, my commitment to rationality was a kind of “faith,” or substitute for faith, and in that context his remarks were meaningful.
I heard from many people to whom I had not mailed my letter, so the gossip must have been flying. Many of the letters were sincere, but without content. “I don’t have any answers,” wrote one friend. “It’s not a matter of logic or intelligence,” wrote another. “Human intellectual ability and capacities, no matter how great, are not sufficient,” wrote a woman faith healer.
Many of the letters contained ad hominem arguments. One coworker told me that I had “given in to the desires of self life” (What other kind of life is there?), and a neighbor wrote that I must be “hurt and bitter.” Another tried to get me to admit my “deep wounds.” A woman preacher announced that “sometime along the way you became angry with God.” (If true, why is that my problem?) A former co-pastor told me that “you are on a selfish journey at the expense of your own integrity.” How does he define
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