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The internet and social media runneth over with stories of former believers who have seen the light and abandoned their faith.
In his book Making Sense of God, Timothy Keller cites an articulate fellow named S.A. Joyce as representative of these newly liberated individuals:
“It gradually dawned on me that in the grand scheme of things there was in fact no grand scheme… God performed no observable function and had no valid purpose. The question entered my mind, ‘What is a God without purpose and for which there is no evidence?’ ‘Non-existent,’ came the obvious answer. The blinders of dogma and the yoke of dread were finally off. For me, the universe now shone in a wholesome new light, the comforting glow of reality no longer distorted, either by the almost cartoonish artificial ‘glory’ of myth and miracle or by the dreadful glare of hellfire. I was free!”
Many of the accounts of “deconversion” have certain elements in common.
Wavering believers are surprised to meet happy atheists. Having been told, or having assumed, that nonbelievers are joyless, life-denying misanthropes, it comes as a shock to meet neighbors and co-workers who turn out to be nicer than most people at church – and who are passionately committed to freedom and justice in society.
Doubts creep in: Is it possible to live a good and meaningful life without God?
Then comes the acute suffering of a faithful fellow Christian, seemingly out of the blue and for no obvious reason. Prayers bring no relief. What good is a God who fails to relieve pain?
Testimonies of deconversion often cite scandals of church leadership – morally flawed pastors, silence in the face of injustice, and ecclesiastical efforts to minimize or hide pastoral malpractice. Christians seem incapable or unwilling to live up to their own ideals.
Former believers often report deep disillusionment when coming across contradictions or flat-out mistakes in the Bible. Why weren’t they told about these? Then come encounters with those ludicrous teachings about predestination and hell.
No wonder former believers feel as if they can finally breathe when they walk away from the life-suffocating, guilt-inducing, brain-constricting fog of religion.
Most of us have known at least one person who has been down this path.
Perhaps we ourselves have been jarred by the public I-no-longer-believe declarations of a favorite author or musical artist or become alarmed when a reputable scholar like Bart Ehrman – who acknowledges his evangelical roots – morphs into something like academia’s Crown Prince of Agnosticism.
In general, those abandoning their former beliefs assert that religious people are living by blind faith, while nonbelievers construct their lives on the obviously more reliable foundations of science, hard evidence, and reason.
Keller points out, “This is a powerful story line. It depicts nonbelief as the result of a quest for truth and the courage to face life as it is.”
So, where does that leave the followers of a Savior who admittedly cannot be seen, touched, or heard?
Let’s consider each of the central points of the deconversion narrative.
An online skeptic throws down the gauntlet: “If you want me to believe in God, you must prove his existence.” In other words, I reject your reliance on faith. I’m standing on reason. We should reply, with gentle firmness, “I’m so sorry, but you can’t even prove your own existence.”
Secularists and materialists frequently fail to see that their convictions are just as faith-based as those of any religion. At every moment, just to get out of bed in the morning, we must assume the trustworthiness of our own senses and the rationality of our minds – neither of which can be proved by science or reason. It’s impossible to demonstrate the validity of one’s own reason apart from assuming the validity of one’s own reason.
As Keller notes, “All of us have things we believe – including things we would sacrifice and even die for – that cannot be proven.”
What about happy atheists? The Bible assures us that every human being is made in the image of God. In that regard, we all have the capacity to appreciate the Creator’s blessings of health, food, newborn babies, and sunsets over the beach. Such everyday gifts can inspire happiness in human hearts, no matter what our theology.
Why, then, does it seem that church pews are so often filled with aching, hurting, less-than-whole people? Jesus nailed it when he said that those who know they are sick are the ones who go see the doctor (Luke 5:31-32).
If we come to believe that happiness is the most important thing in life, momentary pleasant circumstances may actually blind us to life’s most important task: to give God permission to “have at” the inherent sickness in our souls. Ultimate joy belongs to those who submit their hearts to the Great Physician’s gracious touch.
But what should we think when we witness a seemingly faithful Christ-follower plunged into a season of pain and suffering? How can that be fair?
Keller replies that our anxiety arises from the misguided belief that if we humans can’t come up with a good reason for an act of God, then there must not be any.
How about the scandals that rock Christian institutions and their leaders? It’s easy to forget that those organizations and individuals are actually being judged by Christian standards. The problem isn’t that they are Christians – but that they aren’t Christian enough.
What about mistakes and contradictions in the Bible?
The first surprise for many beginning Bible students is that there are some really difficult texts in both the Old and New Testaments. The second surprise – which many students don’t stick around long enough to discover – is that there are absolutely no new difficult texts. A few hundred years after the resurrection, Augustine of Hippo was wrestling with precisely the same “mistakes” that confront us today. Rest assured that archeologists and scholars have helped provide many ways for us to navigate the 1% of vexing Bible verses.
In the end, what might prompt individuals to “deconvert” from the faith they once embraced?
It may be that they are perfectly right: The God they say doesn’t exist doesn’t actually exist.
Year after year, polls reveal that something like half of those in this country who profess trust in God believe in a deity who operates on the performance plan. If we are good, then God will be good to us. If we fail to follow the rules, we can expect prompt divine judgment. Therefore, we should live either in fear (always just one big sin away from losing everything) or try to stay totally in control (a vain exercise if there ever was one).
What is the good news proclaimed by Jesus? That particular God doesn’t exist.
The heavenly Father revealed by Jesus is most certainly serious about the purity of our character.
But his way of reforming our lives happens not by rules-keeping but by grace – a revolution of unconditional love that transforms our hearts from the inside-out.
And the best news of all?
If we come to grasp that that is the God who is really there, the odds are pretty high we will never want to walk away.