avatarMelissa Corrigan

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contrary to what He taught.</p><p id="2a67">Did <i>we </i>read the book wrong? Did we focus on the wrong parts? We thought the words in red were a big deal, kind of the whole premise right there. How did our interpretation of the Bible vary <i>so much</i> from those around us in the church?</p><p id="305d">And once you have thoroughly (for most of us, this is literally <i>decades</i> prior to leaving the church altogether) examined your interpretation of scripture and the theology and find that you actually don’t really believe this stuff… like, <i>at all</i>… there comes the uncomfortable choice.</p><p id="945b">You could stay in the church and the religion and just pretend. Play along. This is where all of your friends and neighbors are. Your kids are accepted. It feels like the easier option. I do know people who fall into this category, and I know it’s hard. And it’s <i>really </i>hard when you have some bits of that faith left and you stay to be the voice of reason within your church, to gently guide conversations away from politics and back to scripture.</p><p id="be16">Those people are saints.</p><p id="abaf">The opposite is also hard: to walk away, leaving an entire community of people, comfort, routine, and predictability, the only world you’ve known.</p><p id="5bfc">All rolled into that is the awareness that your friends will not just become your former friends, they become your enemy — or, more accurately, you become theirs.</p><p id="1d34">They suddenly become combative on your social media posts, at first leaving vaguely arrogant comments with scripture references and saying they’re ‘still praying for you!’ but ultimately either unfriending you or continuing these behaviors until you unfriend them.</p><p id="cec8">It’s very sad.</p><p id="c6da">We didn’t look to become Public Enemy Number One in our little towns when we realized we didn’t believe in this religion and so we left it.</p><p id="13f1">We’re not busting down the doors of your church yelling that you’re wrong. We’re not proselytizing to your children and trying to lure them to the dark side. We just realized we don’t believe what you do. That’s it. And for those of us who left, I’ll add further, that we have enough respect for those of you who are still there, still believers, to stay in your church and be fake. I find it disingenuous and disrespectful, so our <i>leaving </i>is actually a huge (and sacrificial) act of <i>respect.</i></p><p id="8a9a">I respect devout Buddhists enough to refrain from tourist-trampling through their temples.</p><p id="f39c">Likewise, I respect devout Christians enough to refrain from sitting in a pew and pretending I’m one of you when I’m not.</p><h2 id="d9c4">What life looks like on the other side</h2><p id="4d4e">I wish I could say I’ve seen the results of great faith, but what I’ve seen are the results of very good people manifesting very good lives, achieving happiness and contentment, <i>because</i> they are inherently good people.</p><p id="0106">I find it sad that genuinely good people within the Christian culture don’t get credit for a lifetime of millions of microscopic <i>choices</i> to be good instead of evil, selfless instead of selfish, kind instead of cruel, and further, are told their goodness isn’t “real” but rather that they are inherently evil and dirty and bad and <i>only</i> because of God are they good.</p><p id="03f0">What rubbish, frankly.</p><p id="781f">But if it gets them through dark days and tough times, who am I to criticize? It’s their thing.</p><p id="90c3">Just as my beliefs are my thing.</p><p id="ca43">My beliefs have led to me developing a much better self-esteem, a better awareness of what I deserve, and an awareness of how I exist in the world: how I have the right to take up space, the right to expect basic respect, and the right to prioritize my health, my sanity, and my happiness over others from time to time.</p><p id="7deb">The flip side of that is that I believe that I owe the universe/society/humanity my good energy when good energy is poured into me. When I am cared for, loved, and respected in my home and closest relationships, I then have the capacity to put forth my best energy to serve others and be a positive force in my community, and I should.</p><p id="1b1d">I think underneath all of the politics and rhetoric and propaganda (from both sides), fundamentally we all have more in common than we realize. Each of us simply wants a peaceful life, to be able to care for our families and to be fundamentally respected.</p><p id="3fc0">That’s it. I wish we could all stay focused on that. I wish that when someone dares to admit they do not believe the theology of a certain religion and has examined their logic, morals, ethics, and life experience to conclude what it is they <i>do</i> genuinely believe, it can be as respected as any other adult decision.</p><p id="004e">I wish they were not ostracized and shunned.</p><p id="c3bf">I wish their friends within the religion didn’t feel they must cut ties with their friend but rather felt free to adapt the friendship to respect their friend’s true spiritual beliefs.</p><p id="08dc">I wish, I wish, I wish.</p><p id="04cb">If you take one thing away from this piece, it’s this: we didn’t leave the church to become your enemy. We left because, for many of us, the church treated us like an enemy already.</p><p id="fa76">I miss my church friends. I miss pulling into the parking lot and seeing

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familiar faces and waves and smiles. I miss the community. But I couldn’t keep being disingenuous. I respect them too much for that. And out of that respect, I left, knowing when I left it meant leaving all of that behind.</p><p id="ccbb">Regardless of the political atmosphere of that particular church, those people were still in their house of worship, engaging in a deeply personal religious practice. I just didn’t belong.</p><p id="9742">But let me be clear: just because I respect your practice of faith inside your churches and your homes does <i>not</i> mean I welcome those rules in our legislation. Not everyone in America is Christian, so there is absolutely zero reason they should be forced to abide by Christian laws. It’s just unacceptable.</p><p id="45ef">It’s not ‘persecution.’ It’s theocracy, and it’s not what we collectively agreed upon.</p><p id="31b8">So if it feels like I’m attacking <i>you</i> when I criticize the political actions of the church, you have to understand that I’m not. I am upholding the oath I took on February 20, 2003, to defend the Constitution against all enemies, foreign <i>and domestic.</i></p><p id="fb49">It’s not personal. But it is important, important enough to speak out about.</p><p id="a06a">Additionally, you must understand this: I’m just as pissed about the overwhelming base of Christians in America who didn’t ask to be brainwashed and corrupted by politicians and televangelists in their holiest of places: their houses of worship.</p><p id="8e0d">Faith and spirituality are intensely important and personal to every human being, so for <i>faith</i> to be the vehicle those entities used to corrupt churches from the inside out and manipulate their followers with untruths, conspiracies, and propaganda — it’s ethically abhorrent.</p><p id="86d0">I’m not mad <i>at</i> you, I’m mad <i>for</i> you.</p><p id="2bcd">And since there was no talking to you about it, I left.</p><p id="7008">I still love you. But I can’t watch you be used by people you trust — pastors, televangelists, and politicians — for their distinctly <i>un</i>Christ-like agendas.</p><p id="26a8">But don’t take my word for it…</p><blockquote id="bcc9"><p>“The scribes and the Pharisees sit on Moses’ seat, so do and observe whatever they tell you, but not the works they do. For they preach, but do not practice. They tie up heavy burdens, hard to bear, and lay them on people’s shoulders, but they themselves are not willing to move them with their finger. They do all their deeds to be seen by others. For they make their phylacteries broad and their fringes long, and they love the place of honor at feasts and the best seats in the synagogues and greetings in the marketplaces and being called rabbi by others. But woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you shut the kingdom of heaven in people’s faces. For you neither enter yourselves nor allow those who would enter to go in. Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you travel across sea and land to make a single proselyte, and when he becomes a proselyte, you make him twice as much a child of hell as yourselves. … Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you tithe mint and dill and cumin, and have neglected the weightier matters of the law: justice and mercy and faithfulness. These you ought to have done, without neglecting the others. You blind guides, straining out a gnat and swallowing a camel! Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you clean the outside of the cup and the plate, but inside they are full of greed and self-indulgence. You blind Pharisee! First clean the inside of the cup and the plate, that the outside also may be clean.”</p></blockquote><blockquote id="d05a"><p>“Then the righteous will answer him, saying, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink? And when did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you? And when did we see you sick or in prison and visit you?’ And the King will answer them, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.’”</p></blockquote><blockquote id="e89b"><p>“My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you.”<i> </i><b>Jesus Christ</b> Matthew 23:2–7, 13–17, 23–26; 25:37–40, John 15:12 [ESV]</p></blockquote><figure id="eb43"><img src="https://cdn-images-1.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:800/1*U7wCjcwSZGXsVh0l4Af41Q.png"><figcaption></figcaption></figure><p id="0ca9"><i>My name is Melissa Corrigan, and I’m a freelance writer/thought sharer/philosopher in coastal Virginia. I am a mom, a wife, a veteran, and so much more. I deeply enjoy sharing my thoughts and receiving feedback that sparks genuine, respectful conversation.</i></p><p id="abce"><i>If you like my content, please consider subscribing… <a href="https://medium.com/@itsjustmelissak/subscribe">click here</a> and follow along as I explore the themes of parenting, political ideologies, religious deconstruction, life as an adoptee, and LGBT allyship and family. Also, check out my two publications, <a href="https://medium.com/adoptere/">adoptēre</a>- to uplift the voices of adoptees, and <a href="http://medium.com/served">Served</a>- to uplift the voices of veterans of the US military.</i></p><p id="4744"><i>If you love my work, consider <a href="https://ko-fi.com/itsjustmelissak">buying me a coffee</a>? Or further, become a member for exclusive content and more!</i></p></article></body>

I’m Not Christian, But I Don’t Hate Them

We can leave the church without becoming demons… or enemies.

Photo by Pixabay

“Deconstruction.” It’s a buzzword now, along with “exvangelical.”

Other words may include sinner, heretic, and nonbeliever.

The damned.

Leaving the world of Christianity can be one of the weirdest journeys of your life.

In the beginning, there was light…

Every former Christian has that moment. That ‘okay, this is IT — I can’t take it anymore,’ moment.

Mine was when huge American flags (plural) were brought into the sanctuary, one was placed in front of the altar — and the cross — and everyone stood like animatronics, placed their hands on their hearts, and recited the Pledge of Allegiance while soaring patriotic music played softly in the background.

It was the most sanctimonious, bizarre, nationalistic, indulgent, profane display I’d ever seen inside a house of worship.

I’d already had a moment where I almost didn’t come back — when a respected Deacon in the church blurted out in a fit of anger, “All Democrats are going to Hell… mark my words!” in a Sunday School ‘lesson’ that had devolved into a political rant. The nationalist service just nudged me right over the edge.

I left and didn’t look back that time. I knew the church I’d known, the church of my youth, was dead.

It’s interesting that the term used is ‘woke,’ as that’s exactly how I’ve relayed this experience to others. I felt like I had just… woken up, and once you wake up, there’s no going back to sleep.

From that time on, the more you look back on your experiences within the church, the stranger and stranger they come to seem. So many people raised in a conservative Christian home are raised entirely in a bubble: an echo chamber where their understanding of and interaction with the whole world is shaped by their religion and their parents’ practice of and devotion to the religion.

We comprehend when individuals raised in an Asian nation and steeped in Buddhist culture become Buddhists. And yet the church sends missionaries to evangelize to them and encourage them to leave the religion of their family and convert to Christianity. But when a Christian leaves the religion of their family and converts to a different religion, Christians are gobsmacked. They can’t comprehend it.

Pretty bizarre for an institution that builds a great deal of its business model on that exact premise.

So those still within the church have no clue what to do with us. You see, when your entire life is Church, you realize when someone leaves that space, there isn’t any room for a relationship with them in your life. Church takes all of the room. So the person becomes shunned, intentionally or not.

Essentially, you have nothing else to talk about and no spare time to do it.

When they choose to examine their faith, stop coming to church on Sunday and Wednesday, and are no longer a part of the Thursday morning Bible Study and Tuesday night choir practice, there’s literally no time in your life to spend with them, even if you wanted to. Add that to the thought of the awkwardness of the conversation, dancing around theology and ‘prayer requests,’ and no longer having many common friends, the idea of basically going no contact is usually the most attractive, and easiest, solution.

And so the divide begins.

Us vs. Them

Probably one of the most frustrating parts of leaving Christianity is that there is this “us vs. them” mentality. Regardless of your political affiliations (I do know Republicans who are not Christian), you become The Other. Them. The Enemy.

Being a Democrat means you support infanticide. Full stop. No exceptions.

That is how I’ve personally heard the topic of abortion spelled out numerous times. So any indication that you may vote liberal means you have betrayed your faith because your faith = your politics.

It’s all so deeply enmeshed.

So a lot of people find themselves floating in this weird gray area. Leaving evangelical Christianity doesn’t necessarily mean that they left the Republican Party. Or maybe they never did identify with the Republican Party but they sorta, kinda pretended they did, or just kept quiet during political discussions and commentary in the church.

Naturally, someone’s spirituality is going to have some impact on the way they vote. Many of us who left evangelical Christianity came to see, or have long felt, that the more liberal political stance actually aligned with our personal moral and ethical code more than the conservative one. This is in itself a confusing conundrum as our moral and ethical codes were shaped by the teachings of Jesus Christ and yet the current professed followers of Christ adhere to political beliefs that are very contrary to what He taught.

Did we read the book wrong? Did we focus on the wrong parts? We thought the words in red were a big deal, kind of the whole premise right there. How did our interpretation of the Bible vary so much from those around us in the church?

And once you have thoroughly (for most of us, this is literally decades prior to leaving the church altogether) examined your interpretation of scripture and the theology and find that you actually don’t really believe this stuff… like, at all… there comes the uncomfortable choice.

You could stay in the church and the religion and just pretend. Play along. This is where all of your friends and neighbors are. Your kids are accepted. It feels like the easier option. I do know people who fall into this category, and I know it’s hard. And it’s really hard when you have some bits of that faith left and you stay to be the voice of reason within your church, to gently guide conversations away from politics and back to scripture.

Those people are saints.

The opposite is also hard: to walk away, leaving an entire community of people, comfort, routine, and predictability, the only world you’ve known.

All rolled into that is the awareness that your friends will not just become your former friends, they become your enemy — or, more accurately, you become theirs.

They suddenly become combative on your social media posts, at first leaving vaguely arrogant comments with scripture references and saying they’re ‘still praying for you!’ but ultimately either unfriending you or continuing these behaviors until you unfriend them.

It’s very sad.

We didn’t look to become Public Enemy Number One in our little towns when we realized we didn’t believe in this religion and so we left it.

We’re not busting down the doors of your church yelling that you’re wrong. We’re not proselytizing to your children and trying to lure them to the dark side. We just realized we don’t believe what you do. That’s it. And for those of us who left, I’ll add further, that we have enough respect for those of you who are still there, still believers, to stay in your church and be fake. I find it disingenuous and disrespectful, so our leaving is actually a huge (and sacrificial) act of respect.

I respect devout Buddhists enough to refrain from tourist-trampling through their temples.

Likewise, I respect devout Christians enough to refrain from sitting in a pew and pretending I’m one of you when I’m not.

What life looks like on the other side

I wish I could say I’ve seen the results of great faith, but what I’ve seen are the results of very good people manifesting very good lives, achieving happiness and contentment, because they are inherently good people.

I find it sad that genuinely good people within the Christian culture don’t get credit for a lifetime of millions of microscopic choices to be good instead of evil, selfless instead of selfish, kind instead of cruel, and further, are told their goodness isn’t “real” but rather that they are inherently evil and dirty and bad and only because of God are they good.

What rubbish, frankly.

But if it gets them through dark days and tough times, who am I to criticize? It’s their thing.

Just as my beliefs are my thing.

My beliefs have led to me developing a much better self-esteem, a better awareness of what I deserve, and an awareness of how I exist in the world: how I have the right to take up space, the right to expect basic respect, and the right to prioritize my health, my sanity, and my happiness over others from time to time.

The flip side of that is that I believe that I owe the universe/society/humanity my good energy when good energy is poured into me. When I am cared for, loved, and respected in my home and closest relationships, I then have the capacity to put forth my best energy to serve others and be a positive force in my community, and I should.

I think underneath all of the politics and rhetoric and propaganda (from both sides), fundamentally we all have more in common than we realize. Each of us simply wants a peaceful life, to be able to care for our families and to be fundamentally respected.

That’s it. I wish we could all stay focused on that. I wish that when someone dares to admit they do not believe the theology of a certain religion and has examined their logic, morals, ethics, and life experience to conclude what it is they do genuinely believe, it can be as respected as any other adult decision.

I wish they were not ostracized and shunned.

I wish their friends within the religion didn’t feel they must cut ties with their friend but rather felt free to adapt the friendship to respect their friend’s true spiritual beliefs.

I wish, I wish, I wish.

If you take one thing away from this piece, it’s this: we didn’t leave the church to become your enemy. We left because, for many of us, the church treated us like an enemy already.

I miss my church friends. I miss pulling into the parking lot and seeing familiar faces and waves and smiles. I miss the community. But I couldn’t keep being disingenuous. I respect them too much for that. And out of that respect, I left, knowing when I left it meant leaving all of that behind.

Regardless of the political atmosphere of that particular church, those people were still in their house of worship, engaging in a deeply personal religious practice. I just didn’t belong.

But let me be clear: just because I respect your practice of faith inside your churches and your homes does not mean I welcome those rules in our legislation. Not everyone in America is Christian, so there is absolutely zero reason they should be forced to abide by Christian laws. It’s just unacceptable.

It’s not ‘persecution.’ It’s theocracy, and it’s not what we collectively agreed upon.

So if it feels like I’m attacking you when I criticize the political actions of the church, you have to understand that I’m not. I am upholding the oath I took on February 20, 2003, to defend the Constitution against all enemies, foreign and domestic.

It’s not personal. But it is important, important enough to speak out about.

Additionally, you must understand this: I’m just as pissed about the overwhelming base of Christians in America who didn’t ask to be brainwashed and corrupted by politicians and televangelists in their holiest of places: their houses of worship.

Faith and spirituality are intensely important and personal to every human being, so for faith to be the vehicle those entities used to corrupt churches from the inside out and manipulate their followers with untruths, conspiracies, and propaganda — it’s ethically abhorrent.

I’m not mad at you, I’m mad for you.

And since there was no talking to you about it, I left.

I still love you. But I can’t watch you be used by people you trust — pastors, televangelists, and politicians — for their distinctly unChrist-like agendas.

But don’t take my word for it…

“The scribes and the Pharisees sit on Moses’ seat, so do and observe whatever they tell you, but not the works they do. For they preach, but do not practice. They tie up heavy burdens, hard to bear, and lay them on people’s shoulders, but they themselves are not willing to move them with their finger. They do all their deeds to be seen by others. For they make their phylacteries broad and their fringes long, and they love the place of honor at feasts and the best seats in the synagogues and greetings in the marketplaces and being called rabbi by others. But woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you shut the kingdom of heaven in people’s faces. For you neither enter yourselves nor allow those who would enter to go in. Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you travel across sea and land to make a single proselyte, and when he becomes a proselyte, you make him twice as much a child of hell as yourselves. … Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you tithe mint and dill and cumin, and have neglected the weightier matters of the law: justice and mercy and faithfulness. These you ought to have done, without neglecting the others. You blind guides, straining out a gnat and swallowing a camel! Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you clean the outside of the cup and the plate, but inside they are full of greed and self-indulgence. You blind Pharisee! First clean the inside of the cup and the plate, that the outside also may be clean.”

“Then the righteous will answer him, saying, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink? And when did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you? And when did we see you sick or in prison and visit you?’ And the King will answer them, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.’”

“My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you.” Jesus Christ Matthew 23:2–7, 13–17, 23–26; 25:37–40, John 15:12 [ESV]

My name is Melissa Corrigan, and I’m a freelance writer/thought sharer/philosopher in coastal Virginia. I am a mom, a wife, a veteran, and so much more. I deeply enjoy sharing my thoughts and receiving feedback that sparks genuine, respectful conversation.

If you like my content, please consider subscribing… click here and follow along as I explore the themes of parenting, political ideologies, religious deconstruction, life as an adoptee, and LGBT allyship and family. Also, check out my two publications, adoptēre- to uplift the voices of adoptees, and Served- to uplift the voices of veterans of the US military.

If you love my work, consider buying me a coffee? Or further, become a member for exclusive content and more!

Christianity
Christian Nationalism
Deconstruction
Faith
Religion
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