The Three Primal Fears You're Awakening With Your Questions
Before we had religion, we had fear. Fear of death. Fear of chaos. Fear of exile. Religion didn’t emerge because ancient humans were bored. It emerged because they were terrified.
The Three Reasons Our Ancestors Needed Religion
(And Why We’re All Basically Still Cavemen)
Before we had religion, we had fear.
Fear of death.
Fear of chaos.
Fear of exile.
Religion didn’t emerge because ancient humans were bored.
It emerged because they were terrified.
And they needed stories strong enough to survive in.
Our ancestors didn’t believe in religion primarily because they were seeking truth.
They believed in it because it worked for them.
It gave them tools to manage their most primal anxieties.
And while we may live in a more advanced world today, our brains are still running on the same ancient operating system.
So here are the three core fears religion was built to soothe—
and what it means when those old tools stop working.
1. To Make Peace with the Unknown
(Especially Death)
Our ancestors lived in a world they barely understood.
The stars, the seasons, illness, lightning, dreams, aging, shadows in the dark—they all felt mysterious and terrifying.
But nothing was more terrifying than death.
We’re the only creatures who truly know we’re going to die.
And we have no idea what comes next.
So our ancestors created stories—about the afterlife, the soul, the gods.
Not just to ease the fear, but to make meaning out of the mystery.
If death has a purpose, then maybe life does too.
Suddenly, suffering can be sacred.
Loss can be a doorway.
Despair doesn’t have to be the final word.
Religion didn’t erase the fear of death.
But it gave it a story.
And for our species, that was enough to keep going.
2. To Feel Some Control
Life used to feel completely out of our hands.
Lightning strikes. Crops fail. People get sick. Enemies attack. Loved ones vanish.
Religion gave people a way to respond.
Not necessarily to fix it—but to feel like they were participating in the cosmic drama.
Pray this prayer
Make that sacrifice
Follow this ritual
Obey that priest-king
It also explained the unexplainable:
Why did the river flood? The gods must be angry.
Why did your child recover? The gods heard your offering.
Rituals created order.
Hierarchies enforced it.
And both made people feel less powerless in a chaotic world.
3. To Keep the Tribe Together
You can’t build a civilization on chaos.
You need structure. Shared stories. Agreed-upon values.
Religion offered moral codes (don’t steal, don’t kill, take care of the poor).
It offered identity (we’re God’s chosen people, you’re not).
It created in-groups and out-groups—safety and suspicion in equal measure.
Yes, it was partially or mostly toxic.
But it was also functional.
It helped large groups of strangers agree on how to live together without constant violence.
Deconstructing the Fear
1. Death and the Unknown
“I just need to believe I’ll see my family again in heaven.”
I’ve heard that—or something close to it—more times than I can count. And honestly?I love how honest it is.
There’s no apology. No debate. Just a gut-level choice: This is what I need to believe right now.
We all have things like that—beliefs we hold because we have to, not because we can prove them.
And I’m certainly not claiming to know there’s no afterlife. I don’t. That’s the point.
But I do know this: asking big questions about death almost always triggers a crisis.
Because it’s not just intellectual—it’s existential.
Deconstructing often reawakens a huge primal fear many thought they'd put to rest: What happens to me when I die?
If this is you now, I know it’s scary. It can make you want to stop in your tracks. And I want to say, that’s okay. Stop. Turn around. Press forward. Do whatever you need to do. This isn’t about finding all the correct answers. That’s not even possible. This is about you continuing your journey in the most healthy way possible.
2. Control (and Losing It)
As you start to deconstruct, depending on how you viewed God, things can get disorienting fast.
You may feel suddenly alone. Exposed. Like you’ve lost the person—or presence—that was steering the ship.
For me, that shift was so dramatic I thought I had become an atheist.
For a few years, I assumed God was gone.
But eventually… God came back. Or maybe I came back.
But God, for me now, is no longer a cosmic micromanager.
God is a verb. A love-force. A mysterious connection.
What’s not here anymore is the God who controls the weather, the turbulence, or my x-rays.
Your journey will be different. But I can promise you this:
You will feel a loss of control somewhere.
And maybe that’s the point.
You aren’t God.
That’s one thing I know for sure.
3. Belonging and Being Cast Out
Death and chaos are terrifying—but I actually think this last fear is the most powerful one we face.
We’re still tribal people with tribal brains.
And in a tribe, the greatest danger isn’t dying—it’s being cast out.
That’s why deconstruction is so scary.
If our beliefs change—and we say them out loud—we risk exile.
We fear our people won’t protect us anymore.
That they might not even love us anymore.
Worse, they might actively try to silence or shame us.
That was the last fear I had to face before I could be honest in public about what I believe now.
And it nearly stopped me.
But here's the thing:
When your fear of losing yourself finally outweighs your fear of losing your tribe—
that’s when you’re free.
Sounds a lot like something I once heard from an ancient Jewish spiritual teacher I first met at eight years old, in a fundamentalist church in Eastern Kentucky.
Wanna find your life?
Gotta lose it.
I went through so much of what you talk about starting in the mid nineties never knew what it was, not sure it had a name at that point. However, this is / was key for me and still is to point - "And in a tribe, the greatest danger isn’t dying—it’s being cast out." for as cool as I think I am, some of what I write here I would hesitate to put out in a truly public forum even today.
Well written, Joe. Religion solves so many evolutionary problems of survival. I presented a paper on the neuroscience of religion long ago. I would recommend to anyone that they read a book by Andrew Newberg entitled "Why God Won't Go Away: The Biology of Belief." Or watch one of his videos. It supports much of what you say but takes it beneath psychology and looks at what things like speaking in tongues (glossolalia), hymn singing, and meditation do to our brains. Speaking in tongues deactivates the language centers in the brain. It is fascinating research.
I'd also recommend reading about a fascinating theory that hypothesizes that many cult leaders, like Joseph Smith, actually suffered from Temporal lobe epilepsy (TLE). It has been linked to heightened religious or spiritual experiences, with some individuals experiencing intense or altered religious beliefs or behaviors during or after seizures. The limbic system, particularly the temporal lobes, is often implicated in these experiences, which can manifest as visions, ecstatic states, hearing voices, or a sense of spiritual connection. Some have even argued that the Apostle Paul might have had TLE, and his road to Damascus experience is a description of a TLE seizure.
It might be that TLE and other mental illnesses have evolved to replicate religions and keep the religious impulse strong and varied. The more religious expression types, the more likely it is that our religious impulse will continue. Some have said that humans are "homo sapiens" but we are also, "homo religiosus." We are inherently inclined towards religiosity, meaning a drive for meaning, transcendence, and a connection to something beyond the self.