integrity?
Roxanne Olson, the high school-aged daughter of one of my close Christian friends, living in a missionary compound, wrote: “I can’t say I pray for you every day because I don’t. Right now in school we are learning biology from a teacher who only knows about philosophy, medieval history and English literature. How do you think we got on this planet?” I wrote to her and her mother, who were living in a community operated by the charismatic evangelistic organization Youth With A Mission in Kona, Hawaii, and I challenged the school to a debate on the issues. I never heard a thing from them about that.
A few weeks after my letter was sent out, I received a call from the vice president and dean of academic instruction at Azusa Pacific University, Dr. Don Grant. He and the director of alumni affairs met with me for lunch one afternoon to see what had gone wrong with one of their emissaries. Don had been the director of the Dynamics Chorale, for which I played piano and sang on scholarship during my years at Azusa Pacific. It was an amicable lunch, but they nevertheless were fishing for some way to get me back in the fold. The conversation was at a more articulate level than most, but when I offered rebuttals that they had never heard, they fell back on the same old ad hominem responses, psychological guesswork, and so on. As we were walking back to our cars I thanked them for their time and willingness to discuss the issues, and I made them a challenge. I told them that I would be willing to participate in a debate at Azusa Pacific against any one of their professors on the question of the existence of God. I never heard from them again.
A few months earlier, before he received my letter, Manuel Bonilla had told me that he just “knew” the spirit of God was in my life, especially since I had recorded an unusually “inspired” arrangement on one of his albums that year, playing the piano with conviction and “spirit” behind his singing. We talked on the phone after he received my letter and I asked Manuel if he would be surprised to know that while I was performing that song I was a secret atheist and that my inspiration was musical, not spiritual. He didn’t say a word. When I talked with Manuel again in 1985, he was friendly, but told me that he would be willing to offer me some counseling to help me get through my struggles. The only thing I could think of was to say that I was happy, and to thank him for his friendship.
Manuel and I met again in Tucson in 2003 and talked about the possibility of my producing a secular children’s album for him that could be sold in schools, but it never happened. The thought of it becoming known that he was working with an atheist must have been too much. I do receive a nice seasonal greeting card from Manuel and Anita every year, and I still consider them to be gentle friends.
Shortly after my letter was sent out I met for lunch with Bob and Myrna Wright, two very close friends at the time. Bob was the pastor who conducted my ordination ceremony. They told me that they wanted to apologize to me. They were sorry they had not sensed my inner struggles leading up to my rejection of Christianity. If they had known, they said, perhaps they could have helped me avoid the discouragement and disappointment that led to my change of views. This was a difficult meeting because I loved and respected these people and I knew that they were sincere. I told them that my deconversion had nothing to do with any personal problems, that it had to do with the nature and content of the Christian message itself. I told them that “inner struggles” are good, and I tried to explain that ad hominem counseling was beside the point. They didn’t get it.
“What would happen to me,” I asked, “if I were to die right now?” They were silent. “Bob, you’re an ordained minister. You know your bible. What happens to unbelievers?”
“Well, the bible says
Roxanne Olson, the high school-aged daughter of one of my close Christian friends, living in a missionary compound, wrote: “I can’t say I pray for you every day because I don’t. Right now in school we are learning biology from a teacher who only knows about philosophy, medieval history and English literature. How do you think we got on this planet?” I wrote to her and her mother, who were living in a community operated by the charismatic evangelistic organization Youth With A Mission in Kona, Hawaii, and I challenged the school to a debate on the issues. I never heard a thing from them about that.
A few weeks after my letter was sent out, I received a call from the vice president and dean of academic instruction at Azusa Pacific University, Dr. Don Grant. He and the director of alumni affairs met with me for lunch one afternoon to see what had gone wrong with one of their emissaries. Don had been the director of the Dynamics Chorale, for which I played piano and sang on scholarship during my years at Azusa Pacific. It was an amicable lunch, but they nevertheless were fishing for some way to get me back in the fold. The conversation was at a more articulate level than most, but when I offered rebuttals that they had never heard, they fell back on the same old ad hominem responses, psychological guesswork, and so on. As we were walking back to our cars I thanked them for their time and willingness to discuss the issues, and I made them a challenge. I told them that I would be willing to participate in a debate at Azusa Pacific against any one of their professors on the question of the existence of God. I never heard from them again.
A few months earlier, before he received my letter, Manuel Bonilla had told me that he just “knew” the spirit of God was in my life, especially since I had recorded an unusually “inspired” arrangement on one of his albums that year, playing the piano with conviction and “spirit” behind his singing. We talked on the phone after he received my letter and I asked Manuel if he would be surprised to know that while I was performing that song I was a secret atheist and that my inspiration was musical, not spiritual. He didn’t say a word. When I talked with Manuel again in 1985, he was friendly, but told me that he would be willing to offer me some counseling to help me get through my struggles. The only thing I could think of was to say that I was happy, and to thank him for his friendship.
Manuel and I met again in Tucson in 2003 and talked about the possibility of my producing a secular children’s album for him that could be sold in schools, but it never happened. The thought of it becoming known that he was working with an atheist must have been too much. I do receive a nice seasonal greeting card from Manuel and Anita every year, and I still consider them to be gentle friends.
Shortly after my letter was sent out I met for lunch with Bob and Myrna Wright, two very close friends at the time. Bob was the pastor who conducted my ordination ceremony. They told me that they wanted to apologize to me. They were sorry they had not sensed my inner struggles leading up to my rejection of Christianity. If they had known, they said, perhaps they could have helped me avoid the discouragement and disappointment that led to my change of views. This was a difficult meeting because I loved and respected these people and I knew that they were sincere. I told them that my deconversion had nothing to do with any personal problems, that it had to do with the nature and content of the Christian message itself. I told them that “inner struggles” are good, and I tried to explain that ad hominem counseling was beside the point. They didn’t get it.
“What would happen to me,” I asked, “if I were to die right now?” They were silent. “Bob, you’re an ordained minister. You know your bible. What happens to unbelievers?”
“Well, the bible says
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