I don’t believe in God. I used to. I used to “know” he existed. But my thoughts on the matter changed.
The God that grew up with was a “heavenly father”. The God of the Mormon Church. He was loving and knew me inside and out and wanted the best for me. He was a forgiving God and I don’t know that I ever really feared not making it to heaven after I died. I understood that what little I felt guilty for was not enough to keep me away from his love and plan for me.
But as I grew older and mature in a complicated world I didn’t understand how his love was so selective for certain people. I feel so close to this just and caring God that would never abandon those who loved him, yet I couldn’t ignore the historical racism of those who taught me about him. I remember being confused about what black people might be like in heaven (would they turn white?).
I was also confused about God’s plan for people born gay, transgender, or intersex. As much as I wanted to imagine a world where people all fit into a neat little box I couldn’t deny that it just wasn’t so simple.
I remember a conversation with a minister in another church explaining their doctrine of infant baptism and how a baby could be “damned” if not baptized before they died. I remember replying that if that was really how God worked that it didn’t matter to me if it was true or not, that I would rebel against such injustice regardless of it’s source, divine or not.
I slowly started to realize this about my own God. That it was less a question about whether or not was true. But whether or not I wanted to believe and follow a God who acted or thought the way I was being told he did.
When our God is less good or moral than what we can ourselves imagine, it becomes clear that this God could not be from any higher place than ourselves. That he is no better than humanity because he is a creation of humanity. And therefore unnecessary.
I held onto the hope for some other “version” of God for a few years that would make sense to me. I had a hope for an eternal life and a judgment where wrongs would be made right. I wanted a perpetuation of my consciousness and relationship with my friends and family. But through experiences and knowledge and opening myself up to inconvenient truths I realized that these too were all constructs designed to shield me from what I don’t want to accept.
It is not easy to accept that I am simply biological. That some day I will die and simply not exist anymore. It is likewise sad that the same is true for my family members, dead or not-dead-yet. But it doesn’t give me the excuse to imagine something nicer. There are so many injustices, and pain, and difficulty in life we can’t just pretend away. Likewise, feeling love, or peace, or happiness doesn’t have to come from God. It doesn’t need any more source in us than our own biological brains. And that doesn’t need to be a depressing thought; it can be a freeing one.
When I freed myself from my childish desire to live in a perfect world where everything had a preset meaning and purpose, I allowed myself to see the meaning and purpose I could create for myself and others. When I realized that all religion was a product of a human mind, I fully understood how good and moral and wonderful we all are. When I stopped ignoring the truth, I found more than I ever hoped to comprehend.
I don’t believe in God because I don’t find any reason to. And that that realization fills me with peace, love and happiness.