My Deconversion Story Part 1: Becoming a Christian

I am an atheist. I do not believe in god(s), ghosts, an afterlife, holy books, holy men, souls, angels, demons, psychics or saviors. I haven't always been an atheist, in fact, I spent most of my life as a believer in in all of the above. Although, far and away, the greatest influences upon my life were the religious ones. Because I was a believer, I think it's important to tell a bit of my conversion story before I explain how I came not to believe.

My first walk down the aisle was in the small Southern Baptist Church where I grew up. I am pretty sure that the year was 1979. I don't remember the exact date, I have it written down in a Bible somewhere, but the date was never very important to me. What was important to me was how I conducted my life after that day. Becoming a Christian felt as natural as breathing, everything about it, the church, the Bible, believing in heaven, all of it just seemed right. I was nine years old and I was sure that the rest of my life was planned and special because I was in the hands of god, I felt like I had no worries. Baptism (by immersion, of course) followed closely after my conversion to Christianity and my living testimony to Jesus Christ had truly begun.

My immediate family was not particularly religious and we attended church sporadically throughout my childhood, but being a Christian was always in the forefront of my mind. When I was a pre-teen, my parents started attending church regularly, even making my little brother go with us. This is when my beliefs in Christianity really started to grow and I went from a merely identifying as a Christian to having a burning desire for god. When my parents and my brother stopped going to church, but I was old enough to walk to church alone and I continued to attend. Although, I do have to say that I absolutely hated Sunday School and had started ditching that even before my parents stopped going to church. I had moved into my church's youth group and there was a group of older boys there that I wanted nothing to do with.

When my best friend(to this day), moved to the small town where I grew up, my involvement in the church's youth group sky rocketed along with even more solidifying of my Christian faith and beliefs. I was involved in every activity that was offered at my church, Sunday mornings, Sunday nights, puppet ministry, Acteens, Bible School, church camp, you name it, I did it and I loved every minute of it. I not only blossomed socially, but spiritually. I felt complete.

Graduating from high school meant moving on to college and leaving everything but my best friend behind. During my first year of college, my best friend and immediately got involved in a local church and started attending meetings on our campus at the Baptist Student Union. It was at the BSU that I didn't just learn to walk in my Christianity, I started to run in it. I started to lead groups of people my own age as well as leading groups of kids that were still in high school. Along with a small group of leaders from the BSU, I did Fifth Quarters for youth groups after football games in our area, I went on weekend retreats for high school kids where I led Bible Studies and was part of the leadership team. I was able to get involved in a Discipleship Program where I was able to study theology in depth for the first time. My friends were all part of the same group that I was, and my Christianity expanded exponentially. I also continued to attend my home church and started to take more of a leadership role there and in my little town as well. I went to church camp as an adult sponsor, and I was invited to speak at other youth groups in town. It was during this time that I was certain that god was calling me to be a missionary of some kind, I KNEW my life was going to be spent in service to god and I would not have had it any other way.

Ironically, it was in the midst of this spiritual growth spurt that my first doubts began to creep in.