It sure seems like it was bound to happen, sooner or later. I was raised as a Jehovah’s Witness in a family with ties to the religion stretching back multiple generations on both my father and mother’s side. Any religion, if it is to survive, has to retain members; and it would seem that my family has historically been rather susceptible to the allures of this one rather peculiar vein of Christianity.

Growing up in central Georgia I was aware of this lineage. I have family stretching all the way from Portland, Maine to Tampa, Florida (a veritable seaboard of piety), and the expectation to carry on in the religion of my upbringing was obviously implied. So, I dutifully carried out that which was expected of me. I studied the bible, using the conveniently provided study materials printed by the Witness’s controlling organization The Watchtower Bible and Tract Society; I participated in the preaching work; and I shied away from forming close friendships with those outside of the congregation. I didn’t actually visit the home of a non-Witness friend until I was in High School (Ah! Now THAT got your attention!).

My immediate family had its collective faith shaken by the divorce of my parents when I was at the tail end of Middle School. He was disfellowshipped (a shunning practice similar to excommunication) shortly prior to this and the rest of us tried to continue on, drawn together by the camaraderie inherent in organized religion. One of the teachings of the religion is that a Witness should not form personal relationships with nonbelievers (read: Non-Jehovah’s Witnesses, not simply non-Christians). Moreover, a Witness should not have any dealings at all with a disfellowshipped or ex-Jehovah’s Witness. This posed a problem: my father was disfellowshipped, but he was also my father.

The leaders in the congregation will usually try to ignore this rule as it relates to children and their parents, terming it a matter of conscience between yourself and God. But the expectation is that you will drift away from your unrepentant parent as you get older. It was obvious that my father was finished with the Witnesses, and I had some decisions to make. I was 14 and my family was the congregation. I started to work towards getting baptized. (I should mention two things: I never actually stopped associating with my dad during this time, although I certainly saw less of him and felt awkward being around him at points; and baptism for the Witnesses is a personal choice taken on after learning the teachings instead of a ceremony performed shortly after birth.)

Another thing that began to happen at this same time relates to another important part of my life. I’ve always been interested in science and I would pour my heart into science projects at school. Of course, science and religion don’t usually get along, especially as you delve into the deeper sciences. Evolution was one of these sticking points. Want to know how I dealt with it? Simple, I ignored it! But it made a damn sight more sense than the creation myth, so I kind of ignored Genesis too. Fortunately the Witnesses don’t teach a literal 7 day creation so I didn’t have to deal with young earth hogwash. I eventually settled on God using evolution as a means of creation, but this too was technically against the teachings of the congregation. I decided on this in early High School, 18 months or so before I was baptized. It was the first time I really questioned a tenant of the faith; a change that would sit dormant for a few more years, waiting for the right catalyst.

It was also during the first two years of High School that I started developing closer friendships with my classmates. I had discovered friends! And girls! And girls who were also friends! Yes, I was a little late to the party, but I was dealing with a strange religion on top of the usual powder keg of teenage emotions. Yes, the religion was beginning to appear strange even to me.

So, my three sins were thus: I doubted the teaching of absolute shunning based on my desire to continue associating with my father, I doubted the creation myth based on scientific evidence, and I desired to have fun with people my age who weren’t Jehovah’s Witnesses because I was human. Make no doubt, I was still the awkward kid and a total flake but I honestly was trying. Still, during all of this I was working toward being baptized. Eventually, I was, late in my Sophomore year of High School.

So the stage was set, I was now a baptized member of the Congregation of Jehovah’s Witnesses. My “three sins” weighed upon me, but they were never something I received council from the congregation on, much less a reprimand. I had began to keep my personal life separate from my spiritual life. That distinction would have been alarming to my brothers and sisters in faith back then. I was essentially leading a quiet double life. Never once did I do anything elicit, I never even broke the tenants of the faith in my personal life, but the gap between the two sides of myself slowly widened in my mind. I began to realize that getting baptized had really been a last ditch effort to jumpstart my own faith. I asked myself an important question, “Why did I get baptized, and what does it really mean to me?” My answer? “I don’t know.”

I slowed and eventually stopped going to congregation meetings, though I would still go to the larger assemblies and conventions and to special events like The Memorial (a yearly celebration of the Lord’s Evening Meal, as outlined in the Gospels). Finally, it all came to a head right after Senior Prom. I stayed at a friend’s house with a group of my favorite geeks that night. Through an interesting fluke, that next day after prom was the Sunday of the “special talk”, given a month or so after The Memorial. I was having fun playing video games and hanging out with my friends when my mom called to remind me about the special talk. I tried my best to avoid going, but eventually relented.

I rushed home, threw on a suit and tie, and just made the opening prayer. I sat in the back and felt, for the first time, total alienation from the words being spoken on stage. I saw the faces of those I knew and loved sitting around me; my family and friends, the Elders who had helped me prepare for baptism, all my brothers and sisters in the faith. I felt that I and all those sitting around me had been deceived. This wasn’t the true religion. Furthermore, was there really a true religion? Was there a God? This time my answer was different, it was, “I don’t think there is.” The realization was swift, the two hours sitting there at the special talk in 2006 were my catalyst. I told my mom about my decision later that day. She broke down into tears, she even prayed with me, tried to study with me. She would later develop doubts of her own.

I told my best friend at the time at school the next day that I was done with the Witnesses. She was ecstatic. She told me what her mother had said upon seeing me fly out of her house the day before, on my way to the special talk. She’d remarked that it was surprising to see someone my age with strong enough faith to always make it to church. What irony!

I graduated High School and went to College. I studied art and humanities, taking time to look around for another religion that might fit me better. I never did. I was an Atheist from that moment at the special talk, even if it took me a little while to figure it out. I started reading Dawkins and Pharyngula along with anything else I could get my hands on. My love for science has been thoroughly rekindled after spending some time away from it. The awe and wonder that I never really experienced with faith now plays fiddle to every waking hour of every day.

My brother is also an atheist, although we took separate paths to get there. I spent twenty minutes on the phone with my dad while writing this. He is a deist, still believing in God but with his own ideas. My mom is somewhere in between, she doesn’t go to meetings any more, but she hasn’t given up her belief in God. I still get along well with my family, although I’m careful not to rock the boat too much when I’m around them. Admittedly, I took the easy way out chosen by many ex-Jehovah’s Witnesses: I simply stopped going. I could officially denounce the congregation, but that wouldn’t accomplish much. Those that still associate with me would be forced to stop, and I refuse to let the strangle of religion take anything else away from me.

So, why am I an atheist? Because my three sins weren’t actually sins after all.

Jesse Stapleton
United States