When I began deconstructing, I was scared. Not of letting go of my beliefs—but of what God might think about it. What if I was wrong? What if I made God mad? What if I ended up in hell?
The C.S. Lewis argument also fell short for me, but many found it appealing. The main issue I had with Lewis' argument and apologetics was that it failed to address the morality of the cross and the doctrine of substitutionary atonement. Was Christianity an Iron Age human sacrifice cult? Sorry if that offends you. The death of Christ is central to Christianity (at least it was), and most rituals that the church performed involved this depiction/remembrance of a crucified "god" tortured to appease an angry deity. If God was good, this was a poor example of His goodness.
I was taught this doctrine as a child: Jesus died for my sins. And no one thought about the moral problems with this or with the cannibalistic focus of the Eucharist. I remember seeing a play at Easter about the crucifixion, and I had nightmares. I was deeply troubled as a child by the depiction. But no one, not even my mother, considered it a problem. Parents took their children to see Gibson's Passon of the Christ, the most violent and disturbing film I had seen, aside from Schindler's List.
I think it is hard to unlearn a fear of God when the Christian God is depicted as one who requires human blood to appease his anger for sin.
You just moved my article on substitutionary atonement way up the list. That along side original sin are two intertwined doctrines that sort of sneakily make both us and god pretty bad to our core. And then we have to live life believing the starting place for all of us is our own evil nature. Can cause some trauma and confusion for a lifetime
Joe, I think these doctrines of sin attempt to address a real problem we intuitively feel as humans. The world has a brokenness to it, and we are helplessly cast into it against our will. I didn't choose to exist, but here I am, and it is all a dumpster fire.
This is Heidegger's Geworfenheit. I have this sense or feeling sometimes that God has abandoned me by subjecting me to this harsh world. I feel a need to escape the world and to escape my true nature. I hide from others, but it only leads to angst and despair. Short retreats only do so much.
It is that feeling of spiritual alienation, shame, and frustration—internal despair and estrangement from my true self (whatever that is.) This is Kierkegaard, of course, and most existentialists. Sin is "a deeper, internal struggle—a failure of the individual to authentically embrace responsibility."
It is best described in the modern world in Imagine Dragons's song:
When the days are cold and the cards all fold
And the saints we see are all made of gold
When your dreams all fail and the ones we hail
Are the worst of all, and the blood's run stale
I wanna hide the truth, and I wanna shelter you
But with the beast inside, there's nowhere we can hide
No matter what we breed, we still are made of greed
This is my kingdom come, this is my kingdom come.
There is an overwhelming sense, regardless of our religious upbringing, that something is deeply wrong with us and with the world. Kierkegaard and authentic versions of Christianity would say, "own it." Come to gripes with it.
A lot of fear there in the article, Joe. My suburban upbringing was full of irrational fears; the spotlight from the ITT tower across the Passaic River from our house might take me off to hell, my grandmother said. Meanwhile, on the black and white TV, a usually kind Billy Graham insisted that Jesus would return to "take vengeance on his enemies." And until I walked an aisle and signed a card, I was surely the enemy! Later, when I attended Bible college and the First Stodgy Reformed Church even later on, fear was codified; There is the fear of punishment that we may feel if we commit a crime or the fear or respect like when we used to meet the President (Ahem, he clears his throat). But I still was afraid of everything, even that damned spotlight, though the tower was demolished decades ago. Still am afraid, though I realize now that fear is just a tactic that my grandmother used to get me inside before dark and that El Pastoro at the Reformed church used to keep the sheep in line. Is God like either of them? No, I don't think so , but sometimes, I still feel so. Thanks for your thoughts, Deano
I have come to think that if God could handle that, "Eloi, Eloi, lama sabacthani" moment, the "My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?" cry from his Son on the cross, God can handle any question, fit of rage, extended middle finger I can muster in God's direction.
My task is to direct it Godwardly, and not at another human being.
Yup….. man this is good. I fell in love with that Lewis Trilemma as a zealot. It made proselytizing easier. But boy did it fall short when I started digging.
Thanks for continuing to share your journey, Joe. I’m attempting, trepidatiously, to dip my toe back in the spiritual waters of my heritage, and it’s scarier than the freefall that was deconstruction. I appreciate this more than you know.
I often hear fellow Christians say that we need to defend God or that certain actions can disrupt His plan. This raises a question in my mind: What kind of God do they believe in? The God I worship is almighty and sovereign. I cannot see how mortal actions could alter His divine plan or force Him to change His course.
A God who needs defending seems to be a weak God, one who is vulnerable to human interference. But that’s not the God I believe in. My faith is in a God who is all-powerful, whose will is unshakable, and whose plans are beyond human influence. This makes me wonder—are we worshiping different concepts of the same God, or are our understandings so different that we are, in fact, worshiping different gods altogether?
I just wrote about my own struggles with "is this God thing even real?" And trying to wrestle through the fear. Thank you for this framework.
I also decided, I just simply like the version of myself who lives as though everyone is loved by God, including me. That's worth it to me.
I think what you decided is a very good thing. :)
The C.S. Lewis argument also fell short for me, but many found it appealing. The main issue I had with Lewis' argument and apologetics was that it failed to address the morality of the cross and the doctrine of substitutionary atonement. Was Christianity an Iron Age human sacrifice cult? Sorry if that offends you. The death of Christ is central to Christianity (at least it was), and most rituals that the church performed involved this depiction/remembrance of a crucified "god" tortured to appease an angry deity. If God was good, this was a poor example of His goodness.
I was taught this doctrine as a child: Jesus died for my sins. And no one thought about the moral problems with this or with the cannibalistic focus of the Eucharist. I remember seeing a play at Easter about the crucifixion, and I had nightmares. I was deeply troubled as a child by the depiction. But no one, not even my mother, considered it a problem. Parents took their children to see Gibson's Passon of the Christ, the most violent and disturbing film I had seen, aside from Schindler's List.
I think it is hard to unlearn a fear of God when the Christian God is depicted as one who requires human blood to appease his anger for sin.
You just moved my article on substitutionary atonement way up the list. That along side original sin are two intertwined doctrines that sort of sneakily make both us and god pretty bad to our core. And then we have to live life believing the starting place for all of us is our own evil nature. Can cause some trauma and confusion for a lifetime
Joe, I think these doctrines of sin attempt to address a real problem we intuitively feel as humans. The world has a brokenness to it, and we are helplessly cast into it against our will. I didn't choose to exist, but here I am, and it is all a dumpster fire.
This is Heidegger's Geworfenheit. I have this sense or feeling sometimes that God has abandoned me by subjecting me to this harsh world. I feel a need to escape the world and to escape my true nature. I hide from others, but it only leads to angst and despair. Short retreats only do so much.
It is that feeling of spiritual alienation, shame, and frustration—internal despair and estrangement from my true self (whatever that is.) This is Kierkegaard, of course, and most existentialists. Sin is "a deeper, internal struggle—a failure of the individual to authentically embrace responsibility."
It is best described in the modern world in Imagine Dragons's song:
When the days are cold and the cards all fold
And the saints we see are all made of gold
When your dreams all fail and the ones we hail
Are the worst of all, and the blood's run stale
I wanna hide the truth, and I wanna shelter you
But with the beast inside, there's nowhere we can hide
No matter what we breed, we still are made of greed
This is my kingdom come, this is my kingdom come.
There is an overwhelming sense, regardless of our religious upbringing, that something is deeply wrong with us and with the world. Kierkegaard and authentic versions of Christianity would say, "own it." Come to gripes with it.
A lot of fear there in the article, Joe. My suburban upbringing was full of irrational fears; the spotlight from the ITT tower across the Passaic River from our house might take me off to hell, my grandmother said. Meanwhile, on the black and white TV, a usually kind Billy Graham insisted that Jesus would return to "take vengeance on his enemies." And until I walked an aisle and signed a card, I was surely the enemy! Later, when I attended Bible college and the First Stodgy Reformed Church even later on, fear was codified; There is the fear of punishment that we may feel if we commit a crime or the fear or respect like when we used to meet the President (Ahem, he clears his throat). But I still was afraid of everything, even that damned spotlight, though the tower was demolished decades ago. Still am afraid, though I realize now that fear is just a tactic that my grandmother used to get me inside before dark and that El Pastoro at the Reformed church used to keep the sheep in line. Is God like either of them? No, I don't think so , but sometimes, I still feel so. Thanks for your thoughts, Deano
Amen.
"If God exists, and God is good,
then asking hard questions is not a threat."
I have come to think that if God could handle that, "Eloi, Eloi, lama sabacthani" moment, the "My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?" cry from his Son on the cross, God can handle any question, fit of rage, extended middle finger I can muster in God's direction.
My task is to direct it Godwardly, and not at another human being.
Great way to look at it.
Once again. 💜
That guy probably owes us all a real apology.
Yup….. man this is good. I fell in love with that Lewis Trilemma as a zealot. It made proselytizing easier. But boy did it fall short when I started digging.
Thanks for continuing to share your journey, Joe. I’m attempting, trepidatiously, to dip my toe back in the spiritual waters of my heritage, and it’s scarier than the freefall that was deconstruction. I appreciate this more than you know.
Thanks, man. I’m happy you’re here.
I would love to hear more about the scholars who have looked into the possible false Peter quote, or at least who they are!
I often hear fellow Christians say that we need to defend God or that certain actions can disrupt His plan. This raises a question in my mind: What kind of God do they believe in? The God I worship is almighty and sovereign. I cannot see how mortal actions could alter His divine plan or force Him to change His course.
A God who needs defending seems to be a weak God, one who is vulnerable to human interference. But that’s not the God I believe in. My faith is in a God who is all-powerful, whose will is unshakable, and whose plans are beyond human influence. This makes me wonder—are we worshiping different concepts of the same God, or are our understandings so different that we are, in fact, worshiping different gods altogether?