Due to the overly serious nature of this post, a puppy picture will accompany it to balance things out. Losing faith was gradual. There was no “Aha” moment. No absence of that divine light and heavenly choir wafting down to show the way. I didn’t just wake up one morning and go “Nope! Nothing there!”. It was slower than that.

When I lost faith, it wasn’t overnight. It took a long time–lots of bumps along the way and lots of sad realizations. While I didn’t lose my faith in Christianity, I lost faith in its followers.

I was raised Christian. Lutheran, to be more precise. I had a child’s certainty that the church was infallible: God was up there with a direct line to the church leaders and all was as it was supposed to be. As I got older, that sureness wavered.

Between the ongoing “culture wars” being heralded by the highly politicized religious right to the slick marketing techniques some churches employ to try and hook the Generation Xers and Gen Ys. It seemed churches weren’t so much in the business of saving souls and providing guidance as they were in the business of… well, politics and business.

I began to see the Bible less as a holy and infallible scripture dictated by the big guy upstairs and more as a book that had been translated over and over again in a game of telephone that spanned centuries. This view, to many people, is heresy. To me, it’s just logical. There are many differences between the languages used in the Bible and our modern English, just as there are so many different political motivations behind the world leaders that drove those translations.

I was also exposed to the tribulation and rapture mentality. That mindset that Jesus will come back in our lifetime to whisk the believers away in a heavenly whirlwind and leave the non-believers here to languish on earth until the final battle has been waged and won and Christ comes down a second time to pick up the believers who were late to the party. Tribulations aplenty and unbelievable tortures await for those who don’t say their prayers every night, donate the right amount of money to the church of your choice and attend service every Sunday.

It’s kind of a “They’ll see… someday they’ll all see!” sort of mentality. C’mon, who wouldn’t love an all-powerful hall pass when the going gets tough? It usually rides tandem with the belief that anyone who doesn’t follow the prescribed lifestyle will be skinny dipping in a lake of fire. Gay? Straight to hell. Like to have sex? Sorry, your membership card has been revoked. Had an abortion? Do not pass go, do not collect $20. No forgiveness for you, no matter what Jesus would have actually done.

While I still believe in God and in Jesus, I don’t believe in their followers. I’ve seen too many hurtful things done in their name to have a good opinion of all Christians and I don’t put much stock in the idea of Christianity being a prerequisite for being a good person. In fact, if you call yourself a Christian, you’ll probably have to work harder to prove to me that you do more than talk the talk.

Don’t get me wrong– I screw up and I screw up a lot. I’m not always the living example I should be. I’m often initially oblivious to how my words and actions affect others. In fact, I can be brazen, a bit of a bitch and my language can be saltier than most church-going people prefer. I can also be a bit of a hypocrite at times. What I’m not is ignorant of my faults and actions. I know these things about myself and fight them tooth and nail to overcome them.

I’m harsh with people, but if I do something wrong, I own up to it. I tend to be my own worst critic in that aspect and will obsess over my interactions with others after the fact. I’m not always the happiest little Christian on the block, but I work hard to keep myself from being the most ignorant one. I read and study Christianity along with other faiths in order to learn and grow. That makes me impatient with people who don’t do the same. Doubt can destroy faith but it can also make it much, much stronger. It’s like body-building for the mind: too much weight can tear something, but it can also allow you to lift more than you ever thought possible.