I was raised alternately in general Protestant and Lutheran churches, and my parents can’t be blamed for a lack of trying. I can’t claim ignorance, so I’m among the worst of the damned in the eyes of some. I started out believing, right up until I got a less than satisfactory answer to the doctrine of ignorance and original sin and salvation. I came from an abusive home, and obsessed over fairness since punishment in my home was often disproportionate and arbitrary. It was at that moment I recognised God as he’d been described as an abusive parent. I could not believe that such a being as my stepfather ran the universe, or rather one so apparently powerless as my mother stood by and allowed suffering and death. I was eight. This was the beginning of my doubts. I realized that the people claiming to know God’s will were like me claiming to know when I’d be yanked out of bed over a dirty dish, or yelled at for literally doing nothing. Whatever there was, they had no idea when it would act or why.


