I faked being a good church-going Christian.
'Tis true. And why did I fake this?

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The year was 1983, and a young Loon fell in love.

She was not really the best looking girl around, but frankly, the Loon wasn't any great catch either. Even at that time I knew this and was not troubled by admitting as much. However, she did have a lot of things going for her- she was witty, she was intelligent, she could hold a decent conversation, and she seemed to have a fair bit of common sense about her. So she was about as good as a young Loon was likely to find.

Sadly, she had been raised Catholic.

I was not.

See, my grandparents were devoutly atheist on Mom's side, and I really don't know if religion ever played a part in Dad's family- if it did, it was a very minor role. However, as Dad was a doctor, we had to belong to a church at least for appearance sake. For whatever reason my parents chose the Presbyterian church, so I was nominally raised a Presbyterian. But while Mom was involved in the social aspects of the church as befits a doctor's wife, the religious aspects of it never took hold in our family.

So here I am, about as non-religious as they come, involved with (and eventually marrying) a recovering Catholic. What's a poor heathen to do?

When we settled down in a tiny upstate NY town, I went along with my wife's desire to join the local Congregationalist church.

The minister was a guy less than ten years older than me, and the organist was his wife. The congregation were a bunch of farmers for the most part, so things were not very formal or serious. Fine, I can deal with that.

It became known to the minister and his wife that I have some musical talent, and am a semi-competent guitarist. They tapped me to accompany her on my guitar for a few piano pieces. What the hell, I figure, it's an excuse to play music. Then they find that I can sing on-key and have a reasonable voice, so they tap me to join the choir. Again, why not? It's kinda fun in a goofy sort of way.

The thing is, of course, that I listened to what the minister had to say during the sermons and got interested in the Bible in a sort of what-the-hell-is-in-this-book-anyway manner. I read it over time, puzzling over the Old Testament and reading through the New Testament. I listened to the minister a bit more, and read a bit more, and spent a lot of hours contemplating the whole thing.

I thought long and hard about it, and concluded that it was a steaming pile. It made no logical sense to me. If we mess up in this lifetime, that's it? We're condemned to hell for all eternity and punished for eons because of something we did in our scant few years on earth? That would be like me chaining my kids in the basement and beating them daily for not flushing the toilet or spilling Kool Aid on the living room rug. If God is infinitely more forgiving than we are, why does he condemn us to hell for making a mistake? And what about people around the globe who hadn't been brought up Christian? Were they condemned to hell for adhering to their own faiths? If so, why bother creating them?

These and other matters convinced me that I was not a Christian. The smugness, the superiority, the sending of missionaries to other countries to convert them from their own system of beliefs to a different system that we outsiders feel is better- the whole thing galled me from beginning to end.

And yet here I was, married to a fanatical Christian who wanted out children to be raised in the church. Here I was, a member of the community, friends with the minister and his wife and the others in the choir, enjoying their company but not sharing their beliefs that seemed to bind them all into a community.

What's a poor heathen to do?

I faked it. I faked it from start to finish, and gradually it took on a very bad taste in my mouth. But I did it anyway.

How did it end?

As I've said in here many times, I'm divorced. Once I left her I dropped all pretense of interest in Christianity. I've always felt much closer to the divine while sitting on top of a mountain or on a lake shore than sitting in a big dusty building with strange windows anyway. I've done a fair bit of looking into the various faiths of the world, and have never found one that really fit me well. It has taken me on some very interesting paths and given me a lot of insight into religions of all sorts, but I would never claim to be part of any one of them. I guess I just don't have a pew-shaped spine.

During the divorce my ex tried to use this against me and her lawyer asked me if I have books on satanism in my house. I replied that I don't have anything on satanism, but I do have the Tao Te Ching next to the KJV Bible and my copy of The Origin Of The Species. That, fortunately, was the end of that.

Call me whatever you wish, but don't call me a Christian. I faked that for far too long.
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Thu 10 Jul 2008, 17:03, 6 replies)

I don't think your the only one.
I would imagine faking a belief in Christianity or any other religion is widespread.
( girlinthehole, Thu 10 Jul 2008, 20:01, closed)

I was reading recently
that in the 2001 census, only something like 30% of the UK population professed to believe in a god. But many more are members of a church.
( K2k6 has a proper job these days, Thu 10 Jul 2008, 22:46, closed)

I had to go to church 3 times a week at school
until I worked out how to get out of it.*

Standing there feeling like a hypocrite is not a great feeling, is it?

Anyway, I will now be using your phrase, "I guess I just don't have a pew-shaped spine" as it is true genius.


*I removed my name from the list on the pew with a scalpel. Nobody ever noticed I wasn't there for two years. Yay!
( chthonic, Fri 11 Jul 2008, 9:55, closed)

No, it's not a good feeling at all.
See, I have a lot of respect for people who have faith in something- it makes them able to cope better with the world, and helps temper their lives and help them live better.

The fact that I don't share their beliefs doesn't mean that I think they're foolish or wasting their time- it just means that I really shouldn't be there. I felt like it was somehow disrespectful for me to be there mouthing the words and singing the songs if it wasn't something I really believed in.

And that is why I tend to keep my opinions and my own beliefs to myself for the most part- they're my beliefs, and not everyone would want to follow them. Let them follow their own paths, as long as they feel that that is the way they should live. Who am I to tell them otherwise?
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Fri 11 Jul 2008, 13:56, closed)

I'm getting married
...in september, and wife to be wants to be married in the church that her mother was, fair enough.

I just have to grin and bear it whenever we go there and make an appearance, all the stuff you mentioned (the contradictions, the 'holier than thou') does grate on me but it's only for an hour or so and it's interesting to see people's interpretations. The vicar is cool and suprisingly objective about it, as in it's a 2000 year old book, things will have been lost in translation.

Thank you for posting and invoking this reply. I feel better now.
(kyoob, Fri 11 Jul 2008, 14:19, closed)

TRL
I did the same thing.

I was (or at least thought I was) in love with a guy a year above me at uni. He was intelligent, nice, funny, not band-looking, and we got on really well. He was also a committed Christian (he's a singer, and all of his performance biographies make particular reference to the fact that he is Christian with a capital 'C'). Happy-clappy, God-fearing, conservative, no-sex-before-marriage (with my love of sex, that should have put me off straight away) Christian. Arse.

So, for the next few months, I went to a church with him (and sat mutely as they condemmed gays and unbelievers to eternal hell), discussed sermons, called him on the whim of discussing a theological question, and generally went against every instinct I had. I even went as far as getting baptised and christened (which I now feel very ashamed about, because it was for all the wrong reasons).

Did it work? Did it arse. Didn't even get a pissing snog, such were the strenth of his beliefs (only kissing if in a commited relationship). In the long run, that's a good thing. I gradually realised that he was a hypocritical, moody twat, who would have been very bad for me. I cut off all contact with him, stopped going to church, and became myself for a while.

I do believe in God (or, at least, in something, but will not let myself be led astray into organised religion again. I think the turning point was hearing all the people who wanted to "save my soul" rant about gay people, when a few of my best friends are gay, and show themselves to be the most discriminatory group of people I've ever met. I will not worship a God that condemns people for such stupid reasons.

So, in short (haha, this isn't a short reply at all), I know how you feel.
(The Empress it seems you CAN polish a turd!, Fri 11 Jul 2008, 21:03, closed)