My Atheist Offspring Goes to Church

I am an Atheist, but I sent my daughter to vacation Bible school over winter break.

Now, I know what you are thinking. You are grinning from ear to ear, praising your deity-of-choice, thankful my conformity, my vision of the light and the obvious departure from my wicked ways. Yet, how does that big book put it again? Oh, that’s right, “Judge not, lest ye be judged.”

I am not an Atheist out of ignorance of the Bible, or from lack of reading it. I chose Atheism after extensive study of the Bible and books like. I chose my spirituality after a lifetime of being a hard-core Christian. I was raised in a very, buttoned down conformist Christian household -more specifically, as a Seventh Day Adventist. However, as my thirst for knowledge reached an apex in my earlier years, I learned that many Christians viewed my indoctrination into Adventism as a cult, much as they view the cultist mentalities associated with Mormonism or Scientology. That discovery sent me to the books.

I poured through the periodicals. That study led me to research several other flavors of faith, and upon visiting and tasting, I found myself back in the library once more. It was there that I dove head first into the study of different faiths from around the globe. I studied for about 10 years, without practicing a particular faith, but still attending services. Eventually, I put down the books and picked up my mantle of non-believer. You see, I am not an Atheist because of my ignorance of the Bible or other belief systems, but because of my knowledge about them. That doesn’t mean, however, my distaste for religion spreads to my offspring. That would be ludicrous.

Living in the Bible belt, it is only natural for my youngest daughter to be regularly exposed to kids who attend regular Sunday services, and families devout in their beliefs. Just as I would expect from a child who doesn’t go to church, my daughter expressed curiosity in attending a few services. Naturally, I let her. She (at 10-years-old) has seen Catholic mass, gone to temple, visited several non-denominational services and has seen and been exposed to more types of Christianity than most adults have in their lifetime.

After a few services, my sprog expressed an interest in going to vacation Bible school over winter break. I granted my permission, without batting an eye. The family asking her to go, did a collective jump in mid-air, thanking aforementioned immortal, praising him for this “victory.” Yet, I refrained from my eye-rolling, because I’m a better person than that. If they choose to live in ignorance of my spiritually, that’s their deficiency, not mine.

In my mind, spirituality is a very personal journey, and a road every person on Earth must travel in solitude. Above all, however, I want my daughter to follow her heart and to do right by it; down whatever spiritual path that may lead. And that, my friends, is the text book definition of what you deem enlightenment.

Don’t get the wrong idea, though. My permission does not mean I sit idly by and allow my child to be brainwashed into a tawdry love affair with blind faith. If you are going to believe something, (by all means) believe it, but you had better be able to back up that belief with a stronger argument than, “Because.” Thus, whenever my daughter would come home and regurgitate a story I already knew all too well, I would require her do some critical thinking exercises. If nothing else, she now knows the Bible better than her Christian friends, and I can honestly say, it hasn’t affected her faith or willingness to learn and experience religion. So, to you who would scoff at Atheists and our requirements for critical thinking in adolescent instruction, I say an openly immature, “Nanny, nanny, boo, boo.”

You see, being an Atheist doesn’t mean you have to run around protesting Tim Tebow or religion as a whole. In fact, you will never find me protesting or scoffing at your belief system, or the beliefs of my children. I give respect to my Christian friends, because the spiritually they attain through their deity makes them happy. That, in turn, makes me happy. So, the next time you hear about your friendly neighborhood Atheist, remember that we aren’t all sign-toting hippies with an axe to grind against God. In fact, we might be even more open-minded than you are. And, our kids might even be just a little bit more educated about your faith than you give them credit for.

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