I didn't want to be a part of it. Religion has been the excuse for so much bloodshed and agony in the history of us, and I just didn't want the blood shed to be the grape-flavored blood that I drank on Sundays on behalf of faith.
I was a nonbeliever for a long, long time. But then my grandpa passed away in August of 2016, and I ran to Christianity. Why? I would say because I missed my grandpa, or because his spirit guided me towards the light, or something like that. But I ran towards Christianity as quickly as I could because I was afraid of death. The same reason, I think, most people choose religion in the first place. Every story about the afterlife sounds better than sleeping forever, regardless of how improbable the stories are.
But I snapped out of it. After all, believing is the most important part of Christianity. And if I don't really believe, then I can never really be saved by it, can I?
Everything I learned from my old church, a fairly liberal presbyterian church, was about peace and kindness. The people at the church went to Guatemala to build wells and gave food to the homeless..which is great...but they all did it in the name of their god. But why?
I feel like if someone is going to help another human, they shouldn't do it because they want to please a big man in the sky who has a best-selling book, just because they're afraid of being on fire for eternity. They should do it because they see another person in need and want to help them, out of consideration for fellow humans. We should help because something deep inside of us tells us that we should. To suggest that a creator has anything to do with it is to underestimate the natural goodness of who we are as a species.
- Kelsi Morefield