At the risk of coming across as a raving anti-Mormon to people who don’t know me well, I offer the following story to those dealing with non and former Mormons.

Matt and I had a couple of people who I assume were from Relief Society (Mormon women’s organization) drop by the other day to welcome us to the neighborhood. It was very nice of them to introduce themselves and ask about us. But as soon as those brief niceties were over, they then asked if we were members and we said no. Which was followed by asking if we had been baptized, to which we said yes. They proceeded to tell us where the church was and what time services are. Then they pointed out all our member neighbors, while seemingly not knowing or not caring about any of the non churchgoing neighbors.

I get that there is a lot of emphasis put on missionary work and fellowshipping (being friendly to with a missionary slant) non and inactive members. But this whole visit was really frustrating to me, because I felt like it went from a really nice “welcome to the area” visit to a “missionary/we don’t care about you if you don’t come to church” visit in 30 seconds.

We were nice to them, but when they asked about religion, our answer was unambiguous. There are few things more frustrating to me than saying “I don’t go to church” and getting the “Well just in case you decide to undo your difficult and emotionally painful, traumatizing journey to that place, we meet at 9!”* in response. It feels dismissive and inconsiderate. Do I reply, “Your religious choices make little sense and are frequently contradictory. Wanna sleep in and keep that 10 percent of your income, leave behind your deeply held convictions, because that shouldn’t be too hard, right?” No! I do not. Because it is rude and does not take into consideration what may be a very nuanced view of religion, and it’s disrespectful of whatever experiences they’ve had that led them to that choice.

And do they not know or just not care to know their non-Mormon neighbors? It frankly felt anti-welcoming by the end, because it was clear that they don’t associate with neighbors that don’t go to church.

It would have been far more effective missionary work if they’d just been nice, introduced themselves, pointed out their houses and told us to come to them with any questions or what not. And if they’d brought baked goods. Cookies or bread never hurt your cause.

*No. People do not literally say that. But it’s how it comes across.

Dr. Sherlock’s conversion story

Q & A

Dr. Sherlock began his talk by saying that one should only belong to and believe in a religion if that religion is true. And by true, Sherlock means that which comports with a “mind-independent reality.”

So for a religion to be true, then, it cannot simply be useful and invoke warm feelings. Religion should be rational. There needs to be a conversion of the heart, sure. And Sherlock shared a few profound, emotional religious experiences he enjoyed within a Catholic context. But there must also be a conversion of the mind—something he always felt was lacking in his testimony of Mormonism.

Those who knew Sherlock well weren’t terribly surprised at the news of his becoming a Catholic. He joked that he was among the last to know of his own conversion! Sherlock had long been familiar with and largely convinced of Catholic theology. Because he subscribed to several Catholic tenets, Sherlock, even as a self-identifying Mormon, rejected the corporeality and plurality of gods (beliefs many Mormons regard as essential).

Why then did he ever identify as a Mormon, given these heresies? “Life intervened.” he said. Family and career—these things forced him to shelve his doubts. Only in the past year or so has he been able to fully attend to that critical inquiry. And from it, he’s concluded that Catholicism makes better sense of religious and scientific questions alike, from the problem of evil to the Big Bang. That’s more or less the thesis of his talk.

I’d encourage you to listen to his entire talk. SHAFTers will appreciate many things Sherlock said, like his exhortation to believers to read atheist thinkers like Dawkins and Nietzsche. I agreed with a number of his criticisms of Mormonism, like that—at least in its popular iteration—Mormonism is too emotional and anti-intellectual.

I was underwhelmed by some of Sherlock’s arguments, however. I don’t, for instance, think that Catholicism fares better on the problem of evil than Mormonism. If anything, it probably fares worse. I think Sherlock was also guilty of cherry-picking Bible verses to make the case for the Catholic god; a Mormon could just as easily adopt a similarly selective reading of the Bible to defend their understanding of god(s). And finally, he was too quick to make definitive statements about Mormon doctrine, saying “Mormons have to believe X” (which is ironic, given how unorthodox a Mormon he was).

Those minor disagreements aside, I really enjoyed the talk and wish Sherlock well in his new faith tradition.

I look forward to your take on his talk and conversion.

I’ve had the good fortune never to experience that kind of loneliness—at least not for extended periods of time. Both my family and friends are accepting of my atheism, so my relationships haven’t suffered for it. If anything, my social life has been enhanced as an atheist, having met a lot of extraordinary people through SHAFT.

No, the loneliness I feel is more profound, more persistent. It’s a loneliness that isn’t diminished even when I’m surrounded by people. It’s that feeling that you’re stuck in your own head—that because you cannot express every thought, nobody will ever truly know you.

This, of course, is nothing unique to atheists. Perhaps it’s the human condition. But this mind-as-prison loneliness, for me, worsened without a belief in god.

Atheist author Christopher Hitchens often remarks that he’s relieved there is no god. He abhors the notion of a god who monitors our thoughts as tyrannical. “Who wishes,” he asks in the introduction to The Portable Atheist, “that there was a permanent, unalterable celestial despotism that subjected us to continual surveillance and could convict us of thought-crime[?]”

Like Hitchens, I find that god, the Abrahamic god, objectionable. I do, however, wish that there were some being who knew my every waking thought—the good, the bad, and the ugly. And when I did believe in such a being, I felt less lonely. (To be sure, believing that my thoughts were being monitored was cause for anxiety. But that anxiety was outweighed by the comfort of having someone totally understand you, and more than you understand yourself.)

So to compensate for no longer believing in any omniscient being, I try to be radically open, honest, and expressive. It borders on voyeurism, really. And often my frankness comes at the expense of social tact. On first dates, for example, I volunteer all the most embarrassing information about me. If they’re still interested in me after these disclosures (and they rarely are ha ha), then they’re worth dating.

My blogging, too, has largely been driven by this loneliness. It allows me to free some thoughts from my head—well, to the extent that I can articulate them into words.

All that said, I don’t regret losing my faith. I enjoy a happy, meaningful life. But I do nonetheless miss aspects of the religious experience, including that sense of being understood.

I was inspired to become a skeptic by the writings of Eliezer Yudkowsky, who’s wonderful fan fiction, Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality pointed out to me that my beliefs aren’t that far from many positions commonly held by atheists. I believe in science, and that logic is a good thing. I basically only disagree on one point. That was the value of religion. As I kept reading the SHAFT blog and the blogs I was introduced to through it the reasons for these differences in opinion became less and less important. I was finding that I held two different perspectives that most would call incompatible; a Pagan one and An Atheistic/Rational one. Add to that my increasing certainty that I would never be certain about the nature of magic and the gods, and I’m left with an interesting muddle of views. To add confusion to that I happen to be ethnically Mormon, and don’t want to leave that behind while I leave the Church behind. This adds Mormon to the Pagan and Atheist, making things more confusing for me.

So to begin with, I am an atheist. Specifically I am a strong Atheist concerning the claims of the biblical god. There is no All-powerful, All-knowing, All-good paternal figure who created the universe. In that claim I join most SHAFT member’s. It has taken me almost 5 years since leaving Mormonism to become willing to openly make that statement of belief, and to admit that I still has belief in belief of “God”. Even as a practicing pagan, I never really said, “you’re wrong,” just, “I don’t agree, and we should agree to disagree.” Having made the most difficult move for most post-Mormons; a serious and open break with the church. I was quite hesitant to take a further step and call the church wrong.

I know quite a few atheists, and often debate and argue with them with them on the most common reasons for being an atheist. Most of their arguments didn’t apply to the way I saw the world, before I joined them. They were arguing against a universal god, the kind of being that if it existed, everyone ought to worship. That wasn’t what my gods are like. The gods I experience are deeply personal, and I relate to them was I would my kin; aunts, uncles, grandparents etc. They aren’t all powerful, just more powerful than me. Not all knowing, they just know more than me. And they aren’t all good, they’re beings, with goals and objectives of their own, sometimes they are cruel and merciless, sometimes kind and benevolent. Saying that God, the guy in the bible, doesn’t exist, doesn’t really make any claim about the gods. I was perfectly free to agree with atheists about god being, and monotheistic religions being bad. Steal their best arguments to tear down a god and system that I didn’t really believe in anymore and dodge the ridicule and vitriol that seems specially reserved for those who would deny that God, and Religion are GOOD THINGS.

Then, unexpectedly last February I had a deeply moving spiritual experience, my the priesthood holders in my family were giving my grandmother a priesthood blessing, and I saw, literally, a void as a negative space, exactly “drew sized and shaped” and had the powerful feeling that I NEEDED to be standing in that space. I knew however that this was a ritual of a religion that I was no-longer a member of, and that if I stood up to join them there would be hell to pay, and that the price in added strife in what was already a terrifying and difficult time for me and my family, would not be worth answering that prompting. So I sat, and a stewed, and I went home and re-read the Book of Mormon in about a week. At the time I was in an amazingly fragile emotional state, in the middle of a divorce, with my opa in the hospital and most of the family thinking privately to ourselves, “do we need to be thinking about funeral arrangements.” I noticed something though, I was getting similar kinds of “warm fuzzy” from LDS experience as from Pagan. I actively enjoy some aspects of LDS culture, and have always been conflicted about my deep respect for my pioneer ancestors and my paganism.

I spent most of my summer exploring Christianity and it’s myths in various forms, and posted over my my personal blog, when I came to the conclusion that it was okay to openly identify myself as an ethnic Mormon, something that has been quite confusing to my home teachers. I also concluded that I was totally unable to support the LDS Church because of their positions on proposition 8. About the time I was exploring that observation I began to read the mentioned fan-fic and reading the articles over at lesswrong about examining my own beliefs with the same rigor as I do others, and towards the end of the summer concluded that I am agnostic concerning both the truth claims of the LDS Church, and the one’s I have previously made concerning the Supernatural.

Specifically I noticed, that for every argument in favor of God(With the notable exception of the tautological argument which just seems silly to me) can be re-purposed to argue for polytheism. Given that I find value in spiritual experience, and even more in a religious community I found myself needing to define what I believe more closely and arrived at a few conclusions:

1. I have, and value religious experiences.
2. The diverse nature of both my own and others experiences suggests a few things: (a) The God of the Bible doesn’t cause all of them; (b) Because of 2, it is much more likely that, IF spiritual beings exist, there are many of them.
3. I am not likely to ever find good evidence for a spiritual being.
4. My “Talent” for divination is really a good imagination and a solid instinctual ability for cold reading.
5. Given 2, and 3. I am an agnostic.
6. Given 1, I don’t want to abandon the Pagan Community.
7. Placebos work even if we know they are placebos.
8. Since I’m honest about 5, and 7 is true, it’s okay to still participate in the Pagan Community despite 5.

That last one was particularly important because in fall I began serving the USU Pagan alliance as their secretary. I had many good discussions with the group concerning belief, and how sure we are about the existence of the gods. I wound up on a few people’s bad side for calling them out when they made easily falsifiable exceptionally woo-laden claims. I developed a coherent philosophy concerning the use of divination as a tool for self improvement; the provide random input to stimulate creative thinking about your current situation. I also started showing up, unfortunately fairly rarely, to SHAFT events. I kept reading skeptical, atheist and pagan writing. I started following Blag Hag much more closely, and added the God Delusion to the my reading list(if I keep reading at the rate I am it’ll get read sometime before I die). I sat down and watched “The Atheism Tapes” on Netflix.

As I did this I noticed a few correspondences between my ideas and beliefs and the ones expressed in these venues. I believe that morality can be determined without a supernatural parent frowning down at me to tell me what is wrong and what is right. I noticed that my choose ideal afterlife is basically orientated back to this life. If I could pick any afterlife described in the Sagas I would choose to remain as either an ancestral spirit, or as a land-wight tied to a particular home or piece of land that I has a connection to. I agree that we should focus on this life that we have now, and if there is an afterlife I hope I can spend it helping my loved ones. I realized that there were various degrees of atheism and agnosticism, and that I am; a “Weak agnostic” about most supernatural claims, a “Strong Atheist” about the God of the Bible, a “weak atheist” about gods I don’t know much about, and a practicing polytheist who enjoys ritual and drama and the community bonding that happens at religious events.

The biggest difference between me and most atheists of my acquaintance is that while we both agree that religion is created and changed by humanity to meet some needs. I think it is valuable, and worth participating in. In my experience the value of religion lies primarily in community and in the pleasure of ritual and the utility of ritual as catharsis. I should choose a religious group to affiliate with based on how closely their values. I am an agnostic because I do not know who or what the gods I worship in my paganism are, and more than that I do not believe I can know with any certainty what they are. I am a Pagan because I find that even in the worse case of the Gods I worship being nothing but figments of my imagination, the people who I mark the seasons with are an amazing community. The rituals I perform to mark the season are meaningful to me, and a spell is still cheaper than a sugar pill when I need a placebo. I am a Mormon because my family is, because I am unwilling to allow a corrupt and hateful church own my family history and the immigration stories of my ancestors. Because I like Green Jello with carrots in it, Funeral Potatoes, and Ham. I am atheist I do not believe in any kind of god that can come in and bail me out with blessings. My actions matter because of that fact. I am responsible only to myself and my fellow humans. I must create the kind of world I want to live in. The only cosmic justice is the impartial laws of nature, the interplay of cause and effect I name Wyrd, because it is so much bigger than I can understand.

In late 2004 and early 2005, I began having serious doubts about my testimony of the LDS Church. (These doubts were initially precipitated by a few unsavory quotes I read in Bruce R. McConkie’s Mormon Doctrine.) And as my doubts grew, I raised increasingly difficult questions in church classes—questions regarding blacks and the priesthood, the Fall, and the problem of evil. I wasn’t seeking to sow seeds of doubt in others’ minds; rather, I was just sincerely looking for answers.

My priesthood quorum leader, Brother Crane, was eager to answer my questions. We exchanged a series of emails, and I’d like to share one of my responses to him.

First, I’d like to thank you for your kind words of concern. It meant a great deal to me. I do worry, however, that there is a misunderstanding. The questions I raise in quorum do not relate to my reservations about the church. I’ve always been one to criticize and analyze. Granted, I have been lacking when it comes to worthiness and testimony, but I think it’s dangerous to write off all reasonable thought as blasphemy (not that I feel you’re suggesting that). A wise and just God endowed us all with logic, and thus the means to evaluate the moral and intellectual depths of our existence. I think it’s best that we employ it.

Again, questions concerning the role of Satan or the Fall pose no threat to my faith; they simply make me marvel at the complexity of our Heavenly Father’s plan. In fact, it is the things that I hold to be true, not those that I question, that shake my testimony most. Reading Bruce R. McConkie’s Mormon Doctrine brought more harm to me spiritually than any anti-Mormon book could have. As a liberal, and indeed as a Christian, I take great offense to McConkie’s reference to blacks as “inferior”. I take great offense when he supports the institution of segregation by claiming its of God’s eternal design. And as Latter-Day-Saints, we all ought to be offended and embarrassed by how poorly represented we have been by an apostle of ours. … The God I love and worship would never forsake His children.

And though I still believe the Church to be a force for good and largely for truth, I cannot testify to the validity of our being the only true gospel. … Mormon culture is a different story entirely.  If we are to judge something by the fruits it bears, whether they be good or bad, then our church, I feel, is in poor shape.

Regardless of its intentions, which I’m sure mean well, this society (and specifically, a few families in the ward) has treated me as someone to be feared and avoided. I want you to know that, beneath my facial hair and political zeal, I’m a good person. I’m not the tough, intimidating intellectual so many people make me out to be. I care for people with a love words fail to describe—I have the most amazing friends and family. So it hurts when people from our ward consider me to be a hell-bound tool of Satan’s.

As long as we distort God’s law to justify hatred and fear, and embrace legalizing discrimination (whether it be against homosexuals, minorities, or non-members), it is difficult for me to draw solace and support from this community. Of course, no excuse for my not having been ordained a priest. I just meant to outline that before any progress is made with regards to the priesthood, I first must regain my testimony, which is far from irreparable.

Again, thank you for your advice and concern. I’ll give what you wrote and provided the thought and prayer they deserve. I’m very blessed to have you as a priesthood leader. My remarks about Mormon society at large were by no means directed to you, or anyone holding high offices in our church. I respect and love you very much Bro. Crane. Don’t be afraid to be bold with me. I have a stubborn soul with which a good deal may be required.

Take care and God bless.

Our conversation ended with this email, because weeks later Brother Crane died in a sudden and tragic accident. His death itself became a source of doubt for me, and might have accelerated my leaving the LDS Church.

I’ve shared with you some of my writings while I was Mormon. This email, though, represents the short-lived phase in my life where I still believed, but had considerable doubts. So it was fun for me to revisit. I especially get a kick out of how self-important and angsty I sounded then. (Do I still write that way?!) I hope you found it interesting, too. Perhaps you can relate. If so, please share your ‘deconversion’ story.

Seven years ago, when this IM conversation took place, I was an intensely religious—and guilt-ridden—Mormon boy struggling to overcome masturbation and homosexual ‘feelings’. A friend of mine also had a ‘problem’ with masturbation (like virtually all boys), so he and I entered into a pact to help each other. Inspired by the Seinfeld episode “The Contest”, we competed for who could abstain the longest.

In the spring of 2003, my friend and I scheduled bishop interviews to obtain our patriarchal blessings. We hoped it’d be the spiritual boost we needed to keep the Law of Chastity. His bishop found him worthy for a patriarchal blessing, and mine found me unworthy. The difference: I confessed my sins and my friend did not. (I cannot blame a 14-year-old boy for not wanting to divulge deeply personal things to an adult outside his family. Still, it’s frustrating that the church rewards people for lying, and punishes those who are honest and repentant. So much for a bishop’s ‘gift of discernment’.)

Shortly after I got home from the bishop’s office, I got online to tell my friend about the interview. I relayed to him my bishop’s message that masturbation is a grievous sin and a significant cause of homosexuality. Here is part of that conversation:

Me: I … I don’t know what to say. I knew I wasn’t ready. I knew it. And there is no point trying to fool God, so I didn’t try. I went to confess.

But you know the scary thing? This [masturbation] is a real serious deal. Nothing we can’t fix, I promise.

Friend: Good. How is it serious?

Me: Trust me, it is a big deal in God’s eyes. But I am not worried; I have felt his love, and I know you have too. He is wanting to help us—he actually trusts us that we can overcome this. You’re a strong kid, you’ll do it.

Friend: Thank you, but how serious are we talkin [sic]?

Me: Well, you definitely can’t go on a mission if you suffer from this. It is physical abuse to yourself, and it leads to unpure [sic] thoughts and a whole ton of other messes.

Friend: After what question did you bring it [masturbation] up?

Me: After the Word of Wisdom.

Friend: I would just have a hard time saying the word.

Me: I did, but I prayed for the strength.

Friend: I am soo [sic] proud. You are the man of the hour.

Me: Thank you.

Friend: So you actually couldn’t get it [the patriarchal blessing]?

Me: Nope. I knew it, and that’s why I was nervous.

Friend: Then I surely don’t feel right!

Me: I’d talk to your bishop, but that is up to you.

I thought I was a very spiritual person, and I am, but I need to conquer this. I’m greatful [sic] for the chance I had to talk to him about it.

Friend: My parents is what I fear.

Me: Don’t worry, they know what we are going through. I just barely talked about it with my mom. It’s all good.

Friend: Your parents are different.

Me: I come from a sexual family, sorry to say. I got it from both parents.

Friend: Sorry if that is gross.

Me: It’s ok.

Friend: But do you think you have totally conquered it?

Me: I hate to think about it. It’s only been a month. I go back in another month for a check-up. Pray for me, please.

Friend: I will. No worries on that.

Me: You want to know why I can’t help you?

Friend: Yes, please.

Me: Going through that with a friend is a major lead to homosexuality. I don’t want to get into that mess, and I’m sure you don’t either.

Friend: No way, but we would never do that. Ew.

Me: Maybe not with each other, but it is best we stop. The bishop knows his stuff. He told me of all the guilt with doing “it.” These guys have been there and done that.

Friend: So he did it? Wow.

Me: We aren’t evil, you know that.

Friend: Yes, and it feels good to know.

Me: I feel so bad though. I want to help you, but I don’t want to become gay. Really, I don’t.

Friend: Me neither, but I wouldn’t do that.

Me: Go gay?

Friend: Never.

Me: Don’t say that. Sorry, but no. I hope [that you never go gay]. They made it sound so … awful and strong. It must be serious.

Friend: So I can’t even tell you how I’m doing [regarding masturbation]?

Me: I don’t know.

Friend: Wow, that’s gonna [sic] be hard not to have anyone to help me.

Me: I know, I feel the same. I’ll email my bishop. I want you to be able to tell me, but I don’t know if you could. I don’t want to be gay. I’ve flirted with that line and it scares me.

Friend: But did you tell your bishop that we were meant to help each other?

Me: I’ll talk to him.

Friend: It’s all good. I think I can do this now. The battle is mostly in my hands.

Me: Literally.

Sorry, I couldn’t resist. 

Well, just know I don’t mean to joke about it. It is serious, but don’t be scared. WE KNOW GOD IS WITH US. Really, we both have cried in prayer. For our age, do you know how awesome that is?

Friend: It is. I’m sure we are the “cream of the crop.”

Me: Yes. And we have been blessed.

Friend: We will both serve the Lord to a great extent one day, I hope.

You can see why I’ve held on to this conversation all these years. It is a revealing biographical snapshot of who I was. I hardly recognize my pious and self-righteous 15-year-old self!

This conversation also represents the earliest awareness of my bisexuality when I wrote: “I don’t want to be gay. I’ve flirted with that line and it scares me.” Those two sentences evoke some painful memories—memories of countless prayers for change that ultimately fell on deaf (well, non-existent) ears.

I am not mentioning any of this to elicit your pity. I am now, and was then, a thick-skinned and emotionally stable person. Additionally, I have always had supportive friends and family. So while my experience as a gay Mormon youth wasn’t easy, it was tolerable and I don’t regret it. I feel I was made stronger by the experience.

That said, this post  isn’t about me, or even about the plight of gay Mormon youth more generally. Revisiting my old IM conversation instead just reminded me of how wrong it is that bishops enjoy the respect and authority that they do in the LDS community.

Don’t get me wrong—the majority of bishops are sincere and well-intentioned guys (my bishop included). But that’s often all they are. They are not scientists. They are not therapists. They should not counsel people (let alone children!) on sexuality or any other matter outside their knowledge. And that so many Mormons would sooner see their bishop than seek professional help may partly explain Utah’s poor mental health.

Coming out is not a single event; it is instead a constant process. Here are just two coming outs of mine: Four years ago today, I came out to a straight LDS friend with a confession of my feelings for him. And more recently, I came out on this blog “as a proud member and supporter of the LGBT community.”

For me, the hardest person to come out to was myself. I was in denial about my sexuality for years as a Mormon. I joke that my parents knew I was bisexual long before I did (the internet history probably tipped them off). I didn’t really come to terms with my orientation until my junior or senior year of high school, around the time when I left the LDS Church.

If you’re LGBT and you haven’t come out yet, I’d encourage you to. It’s liberating, and there’s no better form of LGBT activism. And if you’re already open about your sexuality, please share your coming out stories in the comments.

The idea isn’t anything new, but the timing certainly is. Before I had planned to wait until I moved out of Utah, in an attempt to avoid potential conflict with my family. One of my parents is well-known in the community and I was worried over attempts to contact them in an effort to dissuade me. Packer’s remarks changed that.

I suppose I’m starting at the wrong end of things. I spoke with Jon a few weeks ago and expressed a desire to write for the SHAFT blog a little. I’ve yet to write any of my story’s beginning, and I can hardly be closer to a sort of end than resigning, yet here I am.

For the sake of clarity, I’ll give a brief overview of the time since I married. Prior to marriage, I was attending church weekly on the condition of my residing with my parents. I had not taken the sacrament in over a year and was keenly aware of my mother’s disapproval. My father was a bishop at the time, physically and emotionally removed from myself and my non-act that implicated a wide range of potential sins. Marriage saw me leave their house (freedom!) and move to Logan, Utah. The local ward left us alone for a month before my dad remembered to forward my records. We had a visit from two ward members and a few sessions with missionaries before contact dropped off. After five months we moved to Ogden and found ourselves surprisingly pleased with a malfunctioning doorbell – if the ward tried to contact us, we never knew.

After a year we bought a house and just three weeks after moving in I had my first visiting teaching visit in two years. The visits were monthly for a short while, before tapering off into an occasional attempt to call and set up an appointment. June saw the arrival of a letter from a woman who said, “The RS president told me to write you.” The woman is certainly committed – letters arrive shortly before the end of the month, accompanied by the standard ward “handout.” I’d decided this was an acceptable level of bother for me and felt content to wait two years before officially resigning. All of that changed this afternoon.

As I read some of the comments Elder Packer made in regards to the LGBT community, I felt more and more sick and concerned. The thing he said, the way he said them – all of them were ways of condemning people for their sexuality and putting the blame squarely on their shoulders. Something about the way the words were so carefully crafted to avoid any outright statements, yet spoke so clearly of his disgust, shifted my resolve. I was suddenly overwhelmed with sadness for those striving to live a Mormon existence as they struggle to accept themselves and gripped with anger and disgust that my name was still counted among their flock. I still posses great concern over my parents’ reaction, if (and likely when) they find out, but I will not put it off any longer. I will side with my integrity and free myself from this false association with the LDS church.

Some may ask why one name matters, or why I’m willing to risk familial harmony by doing this. I do it for the same reason I no longer call myself a Mormon: I no longer believe or follow the practices laid down by the LDS faith. I no longer submit myself to their authority, or expect any assistance or blessings from them. I know this. My husband and friends and family know this. The LDS church needs to know this too.

Hat-tip to Main Street Plaza for the video.

I fear my foray into the ex-Mormon/atheist blogosphere may be coming to a close shortly. Absent a second wind, I just don’t have the stamina to continue past the summer. Preparing posts and participating in their discussions is really time-consuming, and that time will be harder to come by as I start work and develop hobbies like guitar.

On a more personal note, my blogging has been a detriment to several friendships. Some theist friends think I’m too strident, and some atheist friends think I’m too accommodating. I’ve tried to strike the appropriate balance while still being authentic to myself. That balancing act has just proved to be too difficult a chore for me.

I have also been asked why I still write for the blog now that I’ve graduated from USU. The question occurs to me often. Well, the primary reason is that I don’t want to see this blog and this community die. Once other contributors become more active, I’ll gradually withdraw. But if others don’t become more active (and relatively soon), I’ll probably withdraw anyway. This is a USU student blog, and current students (aka not me) should be writing for it.

This is not a goodbye; you haven’t gotten rid of me quite yet ha ha. I just wanted to give everyone a heads-up. I plan on blogging here for at least the next month or two, and on a regular basis. So I hope you will continue to visit.

If you want to dissuade me from leaving (I’m still amenable to suggestion) or if you want write for this blog, please comment to that effect. Thanks.

It’s 5:00 AM, and I cannot fall asleep. Not when my mind is so awake.

I’m arrested by thoughts about my sexual orientation. If you’re a friend or frequent reader, you probably know that I’m bisexual. That fact isn’t usually at the fore of my consciousness. But lately, several experiences have made me more aware of my sexuality and my relationship to the LGBT community.

The first experience was watching 8: The Mormon Proposition. I saw it in theaters a couple of weeks ago, and again last night with my family (they enjoyed it, by the way). The second experience was a friend of mine recently coming out on Facebook. And the third experience was listening to this emotional podcast/interview where Nate Koch shares his struggles as a gay Mormon at BYU and in the mission field.

These things reminded me of the extent of discrimination against the LGBT community—discrimination that I’ve been largely insulated from. Don’t get me wrong. My life would have been easier were I straight (especially when I was Mormon). But relative to others, I’ve had it easy. I have incredibly loving parents and understanding friends. They took the news that I am bisexual pretty well. And because of my positive experience, I’ve had a harder time empathizing with the very real problems facing other LGBT individuals.

Another reason why I felt detached from the LGBT community is because as a Mormon, I was taught that I wasn’t in fact bisexual. I was instead a heterosexual boy with occasional homosexual temptations—a “so-called homosexual,” as President Gordon B. Hinckley was fond of saying. I internalized that teaching and to this day cannot totally shake this notion of myself as fundamentally heterosexual. So when I’d attend L.I.F.E. meetings at USU (the gay-straight alliance there), I felt like I was there as a straight “ally.”

This detachment has allowed me to be insensitive toward gays and gay rights at times. Believe it or not, I actually supported Proposition 8 for a few days back in 2008 (over concerns about religious freedom). And earlier this year, I only semi-jokingly told a friend that homosexuality is a mental illness that belongs back on the DSM IV.

Well, consider this my (second) coming out—this time not as a bisexual, but as a proud member and supporter of the LGBT community. The three experiences above gave me a greater appreciation of the urgency and importance of gay rights.

So to my LGBT friends: I love you, and I’m sorry for having been a lackadaisical LGBT advocate. Much more importantly, you should love you. We are normal human beings entitled to same rights that our heterosexual counterparts enjoy.

I am preaching to the choir on that point, no doubt. I just needed to say it for myself.

Now I can sleep.

Since graduating from USU, I have been in an existential funk of sorts. With no job or school, I have had a lot of time to think about my past. Going through some old junk (emails, letters, journals, etc.), I was reminded of just how devout a Mormon I was. So for our collective amusement, I thought I’d share what I re-discovered.

One of the first things that I found in a small box buried away in my closet was an envelope entitled “Open when ALONE.” In it was Elder Mark E. Peterson infamous “Steps in Overcoming Masturbation” article. I was planning to give this talk to a friend as a Christmas present (WTF?!), but apparently never did, seeing as that I still possess the envelope. Here are a few of the “guidelines to self-control” that Elder Peterson recommended (several of which I followed):

*If you are associated with other persons having this same problem, you must break off their friendship. Never associate with other people having the same weakness.

*When you bathe, do not admire yourself in a mirror. Never stay in the bath more than five or six minutes—just long enough to bathe and dry and dress.

*In very severe cases it may be necessary to tie a hand to the bed frame with a tie in order that the habit of masturbating in a semi-sleep condition can be broken.

*In bed…dress yourself for the night so securely that you cannot easily touch your vital parts, and so that it would be difficult and time consuming for you to remove those clothes.

*It is sometimes helpful to have a physical object to use in overcoming this problem. A Book of Mormon, firmly held in hand, even in bed at night has proven helpful in extreme cases.

*Be outgoing and friendly. Force yourself to be with others and learn to enjoy working and talking to them. Use principles of developing friendships found in books such as How to Win Friends and Influence People by Dale Carnegie.

*[I]f you are tempted to masturbate, think of having to bathe in a tube of worms, and eat several of them as you do the act.

I also came across a talk I gave in sacrament meeting back in early 2004. My talk was “The Case for Christianity,” and it was a response to Nietzsche, who I studied briefly in high school debate. For those interested, here is the talk in full:

Good afternoon brothers and sisters.

There are many in the world today who would tell us, “God is dead.” In order for this to be true, however, God must first have lived. And I am here to testify that he did indeed live, and, in fact, continues to live, for it is his “work and glory to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man.”

This illustrates the fundamental flaw in the philosophy of Friedrich Nietzsche. Nietzsche was a 19th century German philosopher and is considered…one of the most important and influential critics of Christianity. His philosophy was of the world, and it taints, to this day, our culture and society. It is a philosophy we must understand and fully reject, for the Nietzsches of our day continue to advance pride over love, selfishness over selflessness, and pleasure over progress.

For Nietzsche, love was the ultimate weakness of Christian thought. According to him, compassion (or pity as he called it) established a concrete class of slaves. It was an obstruction to progress, for autonomous beings should not limit themselves with such “destructive emotions,” but rather acknowledge one’s natural motives and feelings. “Egoism is not evil,” Nietzsche proclaimed. In other words, Nietzsche felt as though the only obligations we have are to ourselves, and that we should not be enslaved by trifle emotions like love and empathy.

This line of thought is a major offense to God and Christ. Christ was asked, “Which is the greatest commandment?” to which he answered, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind. This is the great and foremost commandment. The second is like it, you shall love your neighbor as yourself.” In John 13:35, Christ teaches that by love all men shall know that we are his disciples. If we are to take upon ourselves the name of Christ, then only in rejecting the world’s pride and embracing our Lord’s love can we call ourselves Christians.

Nietzsche’s second criticism of Christianity was Christ’s call to service. The fruits of our efforts must be for our benefit exclusively, he contended. The individual has a finite worth, and at the point in which we give a part of ourselves to someone else, we limit and decrease our worth.

With a personal testimony of service, I know this is not the case. Service, when done with sincerity, strengthens both those you serve and yourself. We feel edified in our service for we know that inasmuch as we have done it unto one of the least of our brethren, we have done it unto Christ. The fact that we align ourselves with the humblest and meekest among us is a Christian’s strength, not weakness, and it sets Christianity apart from most other philosophies.

Nietzsche and the world are mistaken to measure progress superficially. To define one’s true wealth by gold and land is to devalue God’s Plan of Salvation. We find Nietzsche in contradiction when he claims Christians confine their potential in a rigid box of thinking, for he fails to acknowledge the fact that he limits his thinking to mortality. He never seeks out things of an eternal nature, things of eternal benefit. The Church realizes the value of an earthly education, and puts much emphasis on it, but the Church never turns a blind eye to what eternal progression can be gained in the life to come. Ultimate self-actualization is found on our return back to our Heavenly Father; in his presence we know and testify of all things.

Nietzsche rejects God’s grace in saying that man, being of a fallible nature, can never attain perfection, let alone through spirituality. The True to the Faith booklet best contends this by saying: “As you ponder your progress on the ‘strait and narrow path,’ be assured that eternal life is within your reach. The Lord wants you to return to Him, and He will never require anything of you that you cannot fulfill. All His commandments are calculated to promote your happiness. When you exercise faith and serve Him with all your might, He gives you strength and provides a way for you to do whatever he commands.”

As Christians, we cannot afford to fall prey to the supposed “logic” of Nietzsche’s worldly way of thinking. We are not weak, but immeasurably strong in proportion to our faith in Christ. If we commit to embracing Christ’s teachings of love, service, and eternal progression, we will be more apt to recognize Satan’s deceptions. Through Christ, and by no other way, we find peace, happiness, and ultimately salvation.

I say these things in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

This may well be the first Nietzsche-themed sacrament talk ever given. Ha ha.

Browsing through an old CD case, I found some LDS music I haven’t listened to in years—from the Mormon Tabernacle Choir to The Best of E.F.Y. soundtracks. There was also some Christian rock albums among the CDs. My favorite Christian bands were Jars of Clay and MercyMe. The latter’s hit single is below. I still think it’s a beautiful song.

In 2002 and 2003, I frequently participated in an online history forum. There I would primarily discuss WWII and, in particular, Field Marshall Erwin Rommel (a hero of mine). But occasionally I would proselytize to the other forum members about Mormonism. In a thread about members’ religious affiliations, I wrote the following:

Any Mormons? Come on, the fastest growing religion, and only one member in this forum! I’ll take care of that.

A tad overconfident, no? When a professional historian correctly noted that actually Buddhism and Islam are the fastest growing religions, I was skeptical.

I don’t know their rate of growth, but I have been told a number of times that the Mormon religion is the fastest growing. The church, from 1877, has constructed 114 temples worldwide; 14 more have been announced or under construction. Our population has grown from 6 in 1830 to over 11 million as of today. It has also been said that our membership grows by approximately 750 members a day.

The members were kind enough to humor me with some questions about Mormonism. I took it as an opportunity to inform, but also to preach. I cautioned people against visiting “anti-Mormon sites,” because they confuse Mormons with the Amish and portray Mormons as “militant.” (Mormons seem to revel in people’s misperceptions of their faith.) I instead referred them to LDS.org.

Asked how Mormonism differs from traditional Christianity, I wrote:

One major difference in our church is that we believe in modern day revelation. We follow a Prophet who speaks to God and leads our church. We believe that Jesus Christ is the Savior of all the earth and that he upon his resurrection came to America and established his gospel to the inhabitants of this continent. The Book of Mormon is a historical witness of the relationship between early Native Americans and Jesus Christ. Along with the Bible, it is another Witness of Jesus Christ.

That I could articulate this—the core message of Mormonism—at so young an age demonstrates how effective the LDS Church is at inculcating its teachings into the youth.

This back-and-forth about Mormonism continued for a few more posts. In one, I challenged people to explain “why a 14-year-old would make up his own religion.” Some points of disagreement were left unresolved, so I ended on an ecumenical note. Quoting Bill O’Reilly (whose Fox News show I watched religiously):

“The most important thing I can say about religion is that it’s a good thing for all of us to have. It doesn’t matter what you believe as long as you believe in something.” (The O’Reilly Factor, p. 163)

Another online forum in which I was active around this same time was a Christian prayer board, where people submitted and answered prayer requests. Under the username “LDSWarrior,” I asked that people prayer for me that I may overcome my “homosexual feelings” and other sins.

When a few conservative Christians posted that Islam was a violent and evil religion, I came to its defense:

I think some of you have been too hard on Islam. Any faith in my eyes is a worthy cause to follow if pursued with the right heart. Islam is a peaceful, loving religion for the most part. We can’t generalize Muslims by what we see on TV, extremists like Bin Laden. These aren’t Muslims! Just murderers. Let us remember that all religions have their dark marks in history. Christianity for example had the crusades, a conflict arising out of hate for one’s fellow human beings and causing thousands of lives—a hate that I would never originally think to associate with Christianity. Christ taught us to love one another, and furthermore, for those Muslim extremists, to pray for those who don’t yet see the light of Christ and who may even resent us.

And finally, perhaps the best illustration of my religiosity is what I had plastered to my bedroom wall until early 2007—dozens of LDS and Christian images and sayings, many of which I recently found in a box.

I know that this was a rather long trip down memory lane; thanks for reading. Personal though it was, I hope it was at least amusing. You should have a better idea of why it is that I am so interested in Mormonism, as well. When something plays as big a role in your life as Mormonism did mine, you cannot simply forget it. You live in its shadow for years to come.

Another reason why I shared my experience as a Mormon is because it shows that even the most dyed-in-the-wool believers can change their minds. So don’t be deterred when people tell you that religious debates are ineffectual. Had I never been introduced to contrary opinions, I may still be Mormon (and you wouldn’t be reading this blog).

What: The blog NonProphet Status is “seeking previously unpublished personal stories written from a secular (Secular Humanist, Atheist, Agnostic, et al.) perspective. Stories should be true (based on real, lived experience), 800 words or less in length, creative, and affirmative of a secular identity without being rooted in an anti-religious narrative. Submissions can be a reflection on a single incident or tell a longer narrative.”

There will be three categories for submission—Youth, Interfaith, and Moral Imagination. And each category will have its own winner and two runners-up.

Prizes include books like Acts of Faith, Good Without God, and a chance to have your story published in the Washington Post!

Why: “The stories of secular (Secular Humanist, Atheist, Agnostic, et al.) people are scattered because we as a people are scattered. We are not unified by a denomination or tradition. Because there is little cohesion among us, our voice is often not loud enough to be heard in the modern religious marketplace. The secular stories that do get broadcast are most often volatile – secular people taking swipes at religious people – and reflect a divisive “us versus them” mentality. What gets told less often are the stories of people, secular and religious alike, living alongside one another peacefully and secular people expressing their own values within a diverse society. We want to hear more of these stories. We want to hear your story.”

How: “Our submission period will be from March 1, 2010 (3/1/2010) to May 15 , 2010 (5/15/2010). You will hear back sometime after June 1, 2010. Please submit electronically only. Send your stories to: nonprophetstatus@gmail.com. Include your name, age, and geographic location when submitting.”

I think this is a great idea, and I hope some SHAFTers participate. For more details about the contest, refer to this link.

And while many who frequent this blog are members of USU SHAFT and are friends, other visitors have never been to a club meeting and may not even attend Utah State. This is yet another reason why introductions are in order.

I’ll go first. You can find the basics (name, majors, etc.) in my blogger bio. Here, I just want to share those things that you wouldn’t know about me from this blog.

For starters, I’m a bit of a teutophile—that is, I have a love for German culture. My dad and that side of my family is German, so it’s my heritage. I own a $400 dollar pair of lederhosen, some German WWII memorabilia, and an ungodly amount of German punk-rock. In fact, I have an entire YouTube channel dedicated to translating and subtitling German music videos.

I cried (several times, actually) during the movie Hairspray.

I started shaving in 6th grade.

Believe it or not, I used to be an avid Bill O’Reilly fan back in middle school. I bought his books, watched his show, and applauded his shouting down liberal guests. To this day, I rather like O’Reilly. He’s one of the most reasonable voices at Fox News, but—to borrow a line from Jon Stewart—that’s like being the skinniest kid at a fat camp.

My orange-peeling skills are totally unrivaled.

I have two boxer dogs that I spoil and love to death.

Final factoid: I am romantically-challenged. I have never been in a relationship, and only recently received my first kiss at the age of 20. 

Your turn. What would you like the readers of this blog to know about you?

Every night on Fox news, O’ Reilly and ilk bemoan the supposed “War on Christmas.” They claim that Christmas is under threat from secularists, atheists, and our politically-correct sympathizers. A video montage few your viewing pleasure:

The American Humanist Association recently launched a Christmas campaign, with billboards and bus ads that read, “”Why believe in a god? Just be good for goodness’ sake” and “No God? No problem!” Rather innocuous stuff, really. Hardly befitting of a “War on Christmas.” Yet predictably, Bill O’ Reilly feigned righteous indignation over the ads, and retorted in an article last week that atheists are just jealous they don’t have their own Christmas. He wrote, in part:

[A]theists are jealous of the Yuletide season. While Christians have Jesus and Jews have the prophets, nonbelievers have Bill Maher. There are no Christmas carols for atheists, no pagan displays of largesse like Santa Claus. In fact, for the nonbeliever, Christmas is just a day off, a time to consider that Mardi Gras is fewer than two months away.

…Christmas is a joyous time for children, the big upside of celebrating the birth of Jesus. Why, then, do people who want to “be good” spend money denigrating a beautiful day? Could it be that the humanists are not really interested in good at all?

That atheists are harassed during the holidays by Fox News is not surprising. What concerns most young atheists is how their families will receive them. Many of my friends already have strained relations with their family over religious disagreements, and these disagreements are magnified at Christmas time. If things go well, there may just be an unspoken tension at the dinner table. If things go poorly, you may find yourself in this kid’s sorry situation…

I’ve had the “If you don’t believe in Jesus, why should we give you presents?” card pulled on me before. I’m sure many of you have as well. But luckily, things with my family aren’t that bad. In fact, I usually get along famously with my parents. There is one negative Christmas episode I’d like to share, however.

Last Christmas Eve, I downloaded a torrent of Bill Maher’s “Religulous.” I had been waiting for a copy for months, and it just so happened to be released online a few days before Christmas. When my mom found out what I was download (via my little brother), she was irate. She didn’t appreciate that I was planning to watch an “anti-religion” film the night before her most cherished holiday. I honestly didn’t think much of that fact that it was Christmas Eve, but my mom took my downloading “Religulous” as a sign that I don’t respect her faith. She then went off on this emotional tirade in which she told me that she hated having me home, because I as a bisexual atheist constantly remind her of how she failed as a parent. You can imagine how shitty Christmas morning was for me that year.

My mom and I often say things we regret, so I don’t hold that statement against her. She has also since apologized for it. But thinking about the incident makes me want to spare others a similar experience. Nobody wants to dread what should be a joyous time with friends and family.

So I want to this post to serve as a forum in which we share both our positive and negative Christmas stories as atheists in the hopes that we can learn from each others’ experiences. If your parents make your atheism an issue, how should you respond? Should we wait for our parents to make it an issue, or should we initiate a religious discussion ourselves? And for those who have yet to come out of the proverbial closet as atheists to their family, is the holiday season an appropriate time to do so?

Your thoughts are appreciated.

“Hi, I’m your bishop,” he began, and then broke off, studying my face. “Weren’t you in my high school math class?”  I could only nod dumbly. This was really surreal, and I knew this situation had the potential to get very awkward very fast. luckily for me, he continued on before the silence became too uncomfortable.

“I got your letter,” he said, “and I wanted to let you know, we’ve respected your wishes and sent a conformation back to Salt Lake. I You are welcome back to any of the meetings, or at block parties, or anything like that. We’d love for you to be involved. If you ever need anything, my phone number’s is at the bottom,” He handed me a folded paper as he said this. “It’s a copy of the letter I sent to Salt Lake. Once again, I want to respect your wishes.”

“Thanks,” I managed, a little chocked up by his kindness, “I really appreciate that.” And I do.  His respect for me made this whole experience a positive one, rather than the nightmare I expected it to be. I now have a deep respect for this man, and I may take him up on his offer to join in at a block party. If all the ward members are as open as their bishop, I think we’ll get along just fine.

Wow, word travels fast on the internet. Literally moments after I jokingly threatened legal action against the Mormon church for ignoring my requests, I got a call from my bishop. I didn’t answer the phone, since I am terrified of them, but I listened to his voicemail. He seemed like a genuinely nice guy, and I feel bad that he has to get involved. He shouldn’t have to deal with this. I think I will go ahead and write to the church offices again, and tell them to leave this poor guy out of it. You see, Mormons are just like anybody else; there are a few jerks and nutjobs among them, but most of them are nice people. It’s the church itself I have a problem with. It’s the doctrine of fear and control that makes me angry. It is a shame that I have to hurt good people in order to leave a horrible religion.

I thought I’d put up a quick introduction of the SHAFT officers, the people who will be posting on this blog. First off, there’s myself, James Patton. I’m studying computer science and am the group’s finance officer. Which will be an important job once we have some finances.

You’ve already met Jon Adams, a crazily prolific writer and student doubling in sociology and political science. Keep an eye on his “Why I Don’t Believe” series currently in progress, especially if you have any experience with Mormonism. Or–more particularly–if you haven’t. He’s our administrative officer.

Also posting here is the lovely and talented Kimi Anderson, studying english. Watch for her planned blog series “Haunted Utah,” a look at and debunking of supposedly haunted places in Utah (spooky). She also happens to be the group’s public relations officer and my smart and gorgeous girlfriend.

Rounding out the club’s five officers are Caitlin Laughlin and Jake Nelson, who have yet to show, slackers. Caitlin is advertising officer, and studying like, Birdomancy or something. Jake is our activities officer, and I’m pretty sure he’s a student in civic engineering. Show up and say hi, you guys!

I’m looking forward to some good discussions here, and a great godless (I wish school year.

In a surprisingly short time, I received a reply. Their letter said that “The Church considers this an ecclesiastical matter,” and that they would inform have my bishop come talk to me. I had never met this bishop, nor have I since then. Three weeks later, and I haven’t heard from anyone. I’ll be sending them another letter soon, asking exactly what the hell they think they are doing.

I find it frustrating that they will not do what I ask. It can not be an ecclesiastical issue if I don’t say it is. The only authority they have over me is the authority I give them. I don’t have to play along. Although, I do think it would be rather fun to sit through an ex-communication ceremony, just to see what it’s like, and to try to drop some jaws with my heathen ways. From what I’ve heard, though, they don’t really let you get a word in edgewise.

Well, no longer. I have since left the LDS Church and, like millions of others, declared my intellectual independence from religion. This is the story of my “deconversion”—my spiritual journey from faith to atheism.

The transition from faith to atheism did not take place overnight; it was the culmination of issues I had over several years.

One such issue was the conflict between my liberal politics and my religion. For a little over a year, I managed to reconcile the two. Actually, my liberalism was largely bolstered by my faith. Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount—its message of peace and concerns for the poor—resonated with me as a Democrat. There did eventually come a point, however, where I found my politics at odds with my faith.

The first test of faith was provoked by our invasion of Iraq. Even at 14, I was uneasy with the war and horrified at how well-received it was by the Mormon community. Some in the church supported the war on the grounds that it might open Iraq up for LDS missionaries. Put simply, they viewed it as a religious crusade. “The church is perfect, but its members need not be,” I told myself at hearing such nonsense. The LDS Church never declared an official stance on the war, but I nonetheless viewed its neutrality as complicity.

The LDS Church disappointed me yet again just weeks before the 2004 elections when it issued a statement supporting a constitutional ban on gay marriage. I remember how knotted my stomach felt as my seminary teacher read the official statement aloud in class.

Relative to disease, poverty, genocide and war, does homosexuality seriously merit attention, let alone demonization? Certainly not. Too many religions reserve a perverse moral priority for social issues in general and homosexuality in particular.

The LDS Church’s anti-gay agenda offended me as a liberal, but also as someone who was struggling with his sexuality. From ninth to eleventh grade, I wrestled with homosexual attractions. As a believing Mormon, I was convinced that these feelings were dangerous and unnatural—perhaps even perilous to my salvation. This (along with other sexual sins typical of an adolescent boy) compelled me to meet with my bishop regularly those two years.

I confided in him my secret, and he assured me that I could correct my sexual orientation if only I were repentant and perseverant. My bishop’s advice, sincere as it was, dragged me through years of needless shame. In this way, leaving the church was therapeutic; it freed me to finally accept myself for who I am. Though this is not why I left the church. If I became convinced that Mormonism were true, I would again believe in it—my sexual orientation notwithstanding.

My sophomore year of high school, I joined the debate team. I served as the team captain and enjoyed a successful debate career. I credit debate in part for my leaving the LDS Church. Debate taught me to analyze ideas with critical eye. And when that eye was trained inward on my faith, I discovered some disconcerting facts about both Mormon history and doctrine.

In this newfound spirit of inquiry, I read Apostle Bruce R. McConkie’s “Mormon Doctrine” to learn more about my religion. Most of “Mormon Doctrine” was faith-promoting with one glaring exception: a section entitled “Negroes.” In it, McConkie asserted that “the Negroes are not equal with other races where the receipt of certain spiritual blessings is concerned.” He explained that in the pre-existence there was a “war in heaven” between Jesus and Satan. Those spirits who sided with Satan were promptly thrust into hell. Those who sided with Jesus were to receive physical bodies on Earth. But of these spirits, some were less valiant in supporting Jesus. As punishment, they would be born into Cain’s lineage, which Mormons believe is cursed with dark skin.

This racism, I’m afraid, is by no means restricted to McConkie’s book. Elsewhere, in the Book of Mormon, God marked the Lamanites (the alleged ancestors of today’s Native Americans) with dark skin to segregate them from the righteous Nephites. President Brigham Young taught that God’s penalty for interracial marriage was “death on the spot.” Apostle Mark E. Peterson said that blacks could enter the celestial kingdom (the highest degree of heaven), but only as servants. President John Taylor said that blacks survived the global flood because “it was necessary that the devil should have a representative upon the earth.” And until 1978, as many people know, blacks were deprived of the priesthood and other religious rites in Mormonism.

I recoiled at learning these things. The truthfulness of the church aside, I did not want to worship a god who authored or allowed these racist beliefs. There are countless problems with and contradictions among Mormon doctrines, but the church’s doctrinal history of racism was primarily responsible for my loss of faith.

The further I researched the LDS Church, the more disillusioned I became. Evaluating the evidence, I reached several conclusions: I found that the Book of Mormon’s central claim that a small tribe of Israelites colonized the Americas is grossly implausible given what archeology and anthropology tell us about pre-Columbian America. I learned that as a young man Joseph Smith was intimately involved in “money-digging,” a practice whereby he would defraud people into hiring him to find buried treasures using seer stones and diving rods. He never recovered any treasure, mind you. And I was shocked to read that Joseph Smith married dozens of woman, many of whom were already married and some of whom were as young as 14!

These facts all came as startling revelations to me. The church that I loved appeared to be a lie, and one that I could not keep living.

Still, I gave religion a second chance. I went “church shopping,” attending various religious services for the next few months. There’s something about Mormonism, however, that leaves one jaded about organized religion in general. The LDS Church is so life-consuming that other religions seem empty and thus unfulfilling in comparison.

The world is awash in competing—indeed, conflicting—religious ideologies. They can’t all be right, but they can all be wrong. And as I investigated them, I found that the major religions were plagued with the same problems I encountered in Mormonism—bizarre and untenable doctrines, tainted histories, and the willful ignorance of their members.

Then, one day, it dawned on me: I was an atheist. It was as though a veil of ignorance had been lifted and I was able see the world anew, for what it really is.

There wasn’t any one argument that sold me on atheism. I wasn’t looking for philosophical justifications for atheism. Atheism doesn’t require justification; the burden of proof always rests with positive assertions such as “God exists.” Atheism is merely a lack of belief in god(s). That said, there are many reasons to disbelieve in gods aside from just the dearth of evidence in their favor. But I won’t bother to make that case here.

Many people may be surprised at how quickly I came to identify as an atheist. Atheism seems counter-intuitive in one sense, because the human brain is hardwired to read purpose and agency into the world. Yet in another sense, atheism shouldn’t feel that foreign to us. For one, everybody is born an atheist. And second, the vast majority of people are atheists toward most of the gods that humanity has invented—Zeus, Thor, Allah, Horus, Vishnu, Yahweh, et al. So why is it so peculiar that some of us choose to disbelieve in just one god further?

The “nonreligious” demographic is the fastest growing in the United States, but atheism still carries with it extraordinary stigma. It is a scarlet letter that many are loathe to wear. As with most prejudices, America’s fear of atheism stems from ignorance. It is believed, for example, that life without god is absurd—void of morality and meaning. This simply isn’t true.

There’s really no mystery to morality. It is innate in us—not because a god inscribed it upon our hearts, but because we humans are, by our nature, social creatures. We either get along or we die.

Atheists are no less moral than any other group. In fact, atheists are underrepresented in America’s prison population. Also, the most atheistic countries, like Sweden and Denmark, enjoy exceptionally low crime rates and boast high levels of social equality. A recent study even named Denmark “the happiest place on Earth.” So people can (and millions do!) lead moral, meaningful lives as atheists.

And while there may be no cosmic meaning to life without god, there is certainly meaning in life. My friends, my family, and my future all imbue my life with meaning.

Atheism can even be life-affirming in ways religion never could be. Religions often devalue this life as a trial to be endured in order to receive another, paradisaical life. But for me, this life more than suffices.

Precisely because this is the only life we have, it is precious and we ought to live it to the fullest. Surprisingly, the Bible says this best. To quote The Book of Ecclesiastes: “Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might; for there is no work, nor device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom, in the grave, whither thou goest.” And to that, I offer an emphatic and atheistic, “Amen!”