One Year Free From Christianity—Would I Go Back?

Readers,

As I reflect on this past year without Christianity in my life, several themes come to mind. Granted this is the first year of my entire life (as far as I can remember) that I have not been a Christian. For the first 27 years of my existence, I have been thinking about, praying to, talking of, and writing on, God. I have never known life without belief in and worship of God. This belief caused me to live as a nun, eschewing romantic relationships, sexual exploration, and personal agency in the name of holiness.

I denied myself pleasure to be a good girl instead, performing mental gymnastics to force my mind to focus solely on God and what He wanted for my life. Working as a makeup artist or pastry chef was not good enough. No, to be a follower of Christ you must make massive sacrifices and do work that will save eternal lives. Otherwise, your work is meaningless and you are not serving God. You are being earthly and selfish. Being a missionary or preacher is the ultimate calling and the best possible vocation. If you are called to either, prepare to deeply sacrifice in order to pursue the call.

As I enjoyed most of my time working with non-profits in India, I assumed that God absolutely wanted me to be a missionary to the poorest of the poor. In my mind, that calling meant extreme loneliness, self-denial, and rejection of all fleshly things. You can see how I felt this life was akin to a religious sister’s life.

I have written extensively on my decision to leave Christianity, so I will not go into much further detail here. Please read my earlier posts for a larger picture of my experience as a Christian and my choice to leave.

Would I go back? After the novelty of life as a filthy heathen has worn off, what is left? What of substance, is left? A few weeks ago, I began sensing a tug toward depression. I am on anti-depressants (which also work for my OCD), but I began feeling a peculiar sense of hopelessness I had not felt since I was a Christian. I searched my brain for a reason and was instantly met with far too many: mass shootings, violent racist attacks, losing abortion rights, the pandemic, monkeypox, high food prices, high gas prices… There were plenty of reasons to feel depressed. I’m not sure whether it’s the former Christian in me or the American I am, but sitting with heavy things for too long feels overwhelming. I try to keep abreast of the news but also intentionally fill my free time with cooking, baking, I Love Lucy, big band music, and Bollywood films.

With no God in the picture, I have much more free time and emptier headspace.

If I am not constantly thinking about how to be a better Christian, what do I think about? If my vocation is not determined by a deity but by my own interests and abilities, what do I do for work? If my worth as a woman is not connected to what I do with my vagina, how do I start exploring my sexuality a decade after everyone else?

This is what I am left with a year after leaving Christianity.

The thrilling newness of the non-religious life has diminished. I do not have a God to turn to during difficult times, as much as I want one sometimes. It would make coping much easier. Since I have myself for now and always, I must make my mind and body the comforting being I can turn to. I have to recognize that when I have survived hard things in the past, it was because of me. Not God. I survived and learned to thrive. As the world continues to burn, and each day presents me with more evidence that God may not be real, I settle deeper into the truth that I am all I have. But I am also all that I need. I do not need to search outside myself for answers; the answers rest within me.

No deity is coming to my rescue, but I can rescue myself.

The excitement of being freed from Christianity’s shackles has faded and been replaced with a poignant sense of responsibility. If there is no afterlife, then what I do with my life matters. If no one is coming to save us, we must save ourselves and each other. If religious institutions continue to cause fatal harm, we must tear them down.

We are all we have, but we are more than enough.

And no, I would not go back. Not for the world.

Gabrielle G.