A New Friend

When I started this blog a couple of years ago it was partly to get my thoughts down for posterity but also with a hope that I could meet a few people along the way who could at least relate on some level with where I’m at, where I’ve been or where I’ may be heading. While I have picked up a few followers along the way — thank  you, all — I had no idea that one day I would have a chance to meet one in person.

Last week I had the opportunity to enjoy some good food, delicious beer and wonderful conversation with Clive, a commenter who found me awhile back on this site and has since contributed a bit here and there. Although he currently lives in Indonesia, he was back in the States for a few weeks and found himself within an hour’s drive of me on his last night here, so we made plans to get together. I rarely have opportunities for such genuine, face-to-face conversations and so I treasure each one. This was no exception.

When having discussions online it is very easy to maintain aesthetic distance, be a little less friendly and even a little more bold than in-person, especially when one blogs under a pseudonym as I do. That’s fine for making an argument or trying to prove a point, but it doesn’t allow for the same type of connection that occurs when two people meet in real life. That’s not to say that I haven’t made some good connections with people online, but it’s much easier to play one’s cards closer to the vest while typing to an invisible person on the other side of a computer screen, even when being brutally honest. The anonymity doesn’t open one up to the risk of being hurt as easily as in-person, but conversely it doesn’t allow for the potential reward of forming a deeper connection. I now know Clive as I never would have been able to know him via blog comments or emails. And for that, I am grateful.

As for the conversation, since he is a Christian and I am not, we obviously spoke a lot about religion, God and atheism, but it was amicable the entire way. We were just two guys who happened to disagree about a few things, but still part of the bigger tribe that is Humanity. Even if I can’t get on board with his religious beliefs and the whole idea of “missions” in general — no matter how one defines it — I can tell that his heart is to care for, educate and love the Indonesian people in his local “tribe”, and I’m all for that.

I will probably go back to radio silence, as it were, after this post, but I just felt it important to get this out there. Sometimes among all the in-fighting between Christians and atheists in chat rooms, comment threads and elsewhere, it’s easy to forget the reality that there is another human being on the other side of that user name, pseudonym or no. I was thankful to be reminded of that this last weekend.

Taking A Break

Just a quick note to say I will be taking a break from blogging here for awhile. To my regular readers, thanks for the interaction over the last few months and years. To new visitors, feel free to comment but I won’t be monitoring this site regularly so I may not respond quickly.

Best wishes to all.

My Socrates

My favorite deconversion stories usually involve a mentor or friend who was there for the questioning believer, walking alongside him, answering questions, listening to doubts and providing much-needed hope and friendship. While this isn’t always the case, it most definitely was for me, and I am long overdue in telling the “rest of the story”, so here goes… 

I first met Eric in high school when we were both juniors. He seemed like a decent fellow and I’m sure we shared a word or two here and there, but the only thing we had in common was a shared relationship to The Patient One: she was my girlfriend and his step-sister.  I was more focused on The Patient One during that time because she and I were in the early days of being in love.  In my mind, Eric and I didn’t have much in common anyway because I was heavily into my Christianity and he, well…let’s just say I got the distinct impression that he wasn’t. I don’t remember what my exact opinion of him was, but for the sake of this story it’s safe to say we didn’t run in the same circles.

His mom divorced The Patient One’s dad about a year later and we went nearly twenty years without reconnecting until she happened to find him one day on Facebook. Normally that wouldn’t have caused me to raise an eyebrow, but when she told me he had recently become a Christian I raised both. Knowing there was now one less soul to worry about in the world, I’m sure I smiled and was mildly curious to hear the story, but since he and I were never close, I didn’t give it  much thought beyond that. The next time I gave him any consideration at all was a few years later, again via Facebook, when he announced to everyone that he had deconverted. My eyebrows raised once again and The Patient One and I discussed it for a day or two but I eventually dismissed it by concluding the usual things that gave me peace in situations like that: either he was never a “real Christian” or he just hadn’t found the right version of God or Christianity.

This was the attitude I took with me when we visited him and his family in California the following summer. I had planned a very busy, week-long trip with The Patient One and our kids to see as many friends and family as possible, so all we could spare was one evening of dinner with Eric and his family. Although brief, the experience resonated with me for the next several weeks and months in ways that would ultimately change my life.

He and his wife were wonderful hosts and we had a fantastic time, primarily because of the great conversation.  I spoke a lot about recent changes in my faith and belief, how I had found a newer, more loving version of God and he listened with interest, encouraging me in my search. His gracious demeanor and genuine inquisitiveness caught me off guard. If someone had asked me prior to that visit exactly what I thought atheists were like, it wouldn’t have been that. Without realizing it, Eric had planted a burr under my saddle in a good way.

Not wanting to be the pushy sort, I waited a few months before reaching out to him via email. I still didn’t know him very well and didn’t want to come across as one of “those” Christians whose only interest was in reconverting him (even though there was probably a small part of me that was), so I was very broad and general in my tone. As with before, his demeanor was gracious so I decided to push a little further and send a few more emails, ever cautious and mindful not to be too zealous. I had been reading some more liberal Christian writings at the time and was interested in his opinions, so that was mostly what I included in the emails. No matter what information I provided or questions I posed, his reply always seemed to be one of curiosity and genuine interest. Perhaps more importantly, he always managed to deftly turn it back on me by asking questions that caused me to pause and think a little further, stretch a little more. He never preached, never told me what to read or investigate next (unless I specifically asked), and stuck to questions. Always questions.

After about a year of emails that steadily increased in frequency, my respect for him had grown immensely and we became close friends. Then, one day, I just sort of realized I wasn’t a Christian anymore and sent him a brief note saying so. He was non-plussed. His non-reaction was the perfect reaction. It made me realize I was no different a person to him that day than I had been the day before and reinforced to me that everything I am, every decision I make is up to me, not some imaginary being in the sky. I went from believing something to not believing it. That’s it.

Of course that wasn’t all of it. It has been a long, painful road and he has been there every step of the way as I have gone through years of emotional deprogramming. His demeanor and approach have remained consistent and steady throughout. Every conversation, a Socratic one, mixed with patience, understanding and empathy. While I have had several other people along the way whose impact I don’t mean to undermine here, this one’s for you, Eric.

My friend.

My pal.

My brother.

My Socrates.