When I was 8, I was baptized in a small Brethren church where almost everyone was related in some way. My aunt’s father was the pastor at the time, her sister played the organ, and her brother was the song director. It was always odd to me that he would cherry-pick verses in our hymnal. “Let’s sing verses 1 and 3,” he would say. My theory at the time was that he wanted to get to lunch before the Baptists. Now I’m curious if some verses didn’t fit within the confines of the Brethren doctrine.
Oddly, I have no memory of accepting Jesus into my heart before my baptism. I’m told I did, though.
As a kid, my favorite part of “church” was the frequent potlucks, but the foot-washing that accompanied them made me uncomfortable. This was done to commemorate the Last Supper where Jesus washed his disciples’ feet and commanded them to love one another. But try telling that to a kid who can’t wait to get in line for some L’il Smokies and mac and cheese.
As I got older, Vacation Bible School played a pivotal role in my adolescent years.
Allow me to share with you a VBS song that is tattooed on my brain for life. I apologize in advance.
“A, admit, tell God you are a sinner and ask him to help you become a winner.
B, believe that Jesus is God’s son, and God sent Jesus to save everyone.
C, commit, give your life to the Lord, and ask him to be your Savior.
It’s a really wild and wonderful thing to know Jesus and the joy he brings. Once you let him get a hold of your heart, you’ll be telling folks near and far. Becoming a Christian is elementary ’cause God’s got his own set of ABCs.”
I wrote that completely from memory. I shit you not. I don’t think I’ll be able to forget it.
I was 13 when my family joined a pentecostal church up the street from our house — Assemblies of God, if you’re familiar. Quite the 180 from my Brethren upbringing. When I questioned why my parents were intent on ruining my life by removing me from my comfort zone, I was told my great grandfather was a pentecostal preacher and that I come from a long line of preachers.
Why didn’t we switch sooner, then?
I was scared out of my mind, but I quickly made a lot of friends and met my future husband there. While I have some great memories from that time, I also have some harrowing ones.
Like the night our church put on a production called “Straight to Hell,” and one of the girls in our youth group played the part of a human sacrifice. I can still remember her coming down the center aisle, tied like a pig, screaming in agony.
At the time, I was convinced my name was written in the Lamb’s Book of Life, but her bloodcurdling screams sent shivers down my spine, causing me to silently recommit my life to Jesus. I couldn’t imagine how outsiders felt watching this live-action horror.
Earlier that night, my 11-year-old brother had told our neighbor he’s going straight to hell if he doesn’t come and accept Jesus. Indoctrination at its finest.
It’s been almost 4 years since I left the faith, and I’m still shaking off the remnant beliefs of hell and Satan and demons.
At the beginning of my de-conversion process, I even had a dream my miniature schnauzer, Dexter, ran into the street and was hit by a car and killed. In the dream, my mom said that was God’s warning, a way of bringing me back to the fold.
I woke up with my heart pounding.
I’m sure Dexter wondered why I cuddled with him longer than usual that morning.
In the past, I would have taken that as a sign from God. Now I realize it was because I was raised in a house ruled by fear.
Leaving Religion
To give you an idea of my de-conversion journey, here are some of my old journal entries:
9/22/2015 — “Lately I’m all over the place when it comes to religion.”
5/19/16 — “Religion has been on my
mind more than usual. How am I supposed to make the biggest decision of my life based on no evidence, just complete faith? I have to be honest, if hell wasn’t a probable place, I don’t know how I would feel about Christianity.”9/12/16 — “Lately I’ve been consumed with the idea of life and death and what my purpose in life is. When I was a Christian, I believed that God created me and my life was all planned out. I was certain I would go to heaven when I died and live forever with Him and other Christians, worshipping for the rest of our lives.
To be honest, that scared the hell out of me. Anytime I would let myself think about it, I would hyperventilate. The idea of living forever freaks me out, but the idea of dying freaks me out even more. I’ve been really struggling with where I’m at. And the thought of my parents finding out? Well, that terrifies me. I know they would still love me, but it would break their hearts. It’s such a strange feeling to even picture it.
My mom is coming to visit for her birthday, and I know the ‘church’ subject will come up in some form. I want to just tell her where I’m at and finally let go of this stress I’ve been carrying around, but I’m sure that would cause a new kind of stress in my life.”
I wasn’t wrong about “a new kind of stress.”
In 2017, I was blindsided by a question about my faith, and I ended up sharing before I was ready. https://medium.com/@nataliehassig/happy-mothers-day-mom-i-m-an-atheist-7dfccc7f68ca
I’m still processing what happened and where I go from here. But one thing is for damn sure: I don’t want fear and negativity ruling my life.
And I wish the same for you.
Find people who encourage and support you, who can disagree with you while accepting you as you are!
Can you relate to my story? I would love to hear! Leave me a comment down below.
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