If you throw this question out in China, “why are you an atheist?” in most cases it will be taken as a joke. This is also perhaps the only thing that the communist Party has done right to this country, that is, to seed a strong scientific spirit in China’s education system, but which doesn’t by any means excuse its brainwashing of Chinese students with Marxism and Maoism. Sadly rumor has it that Christianity is growing rampantly in China, which I suppose is due in large part to the fact that the majority of Chinese are suffering, a topic that I should spare for the thesis here. Had I grown up in a religious environment, I barely think I could break free from this sort of ideological slavery. For this reason, I always keep an extra piece of respect for the atheists in western countries, now and in history.

I came to the States three years ago as a newly college graduate, with a thirst for higher education from American universities, something I had always been dreaming of attending. My first stop was the University of Minnesota, which really didn’t disappoint me with its strong research background. In retrospective, what was sort of disappointing was that University of Minnesota is in Minnesota, a place filled with “harassing” Christians of assorted denominations.

My first clue was the ceaseless invitations from numerous churches to participate in their friendship meals. Considering that China has gone not too far away from its once massive poverty, enticing Chinese students with food is indeed a good strategy. I myself fell for many times, but every time I had to eat with prayers and preaching, which indeed undermined the flavor of the already-not-as-good-as-Chinese American food. There were some other churches taking a less confrontational way. They formed “volunteer” organizations to help Chinese students in settling down such as airport pickup and provision of free furniture, but none of their activities didn’t wind up with Jesus.

Believe it or not, back then I was not as of new atheism as I am today. For one thing, I had never heard of PZ Myzer. Candidly, I had no inkling what was really going on in Christianity, although I might have been under a vague—but, of course, illusorily mistaken—impression that Christianity leads Americans to behave. As a person (a to-be scientist!) curious about almost everything, I couldn’t help but explore the intriguing question “in such an era in which almost everything can be reasonably explained by science, why people are still believing in nonsense?”

I thereby accepted many of those invitations—again, partly for the meals. I went to church on an almost weekly basis, which perhaps outperformed most Christian peers, and I attended quite a few bible studies. My best friend was an American Lutheran, who doubted evolution because scientists haven’t figured out the origin of life yet, which, translated in our words, means because evolution conflicts with the literal version of Bible. And I even had an American grandpa, who was, to cite his own words, “still open about whether the earth is 6,000 thousand years old or billions,” under which circumstance, I rarely bothered to spell out the number 4.6.

Looking back, along the years of intensive interactions with Christianity, I did grow in my knowledge of what a thing it really is, thanks to both the repulsive content of their holy book and, more importantly, all the speeches, debates, blogs, books by those outspoken, heroic atheists whose names are too familiar to be mentioned here. It may sound a bit implausible that a person from the far East has joined in this New Atheism movement, but I did turned from a mere listener to now a brave—brave in the sense of in a foreign country—refuter whenever I hear nonsensical religious ramblings.

I am an atheist partly because of the environment in which I grew up, but more because of the fact that, even though physicists haven’t figured out how the universe begun, posing creators does not answer any questions whatsoever, let alone a monstrous one as the Judeo-Christian god.

More excitedly, atheism has become such an important part of my life. I will continue combating religious doctrines, as should all atheists, for protecting our lovely and innocent kids. My resolve has been especially reinforced upon seeing Hitchens’s special care for a nice-year-olds in this latest reception of the Richard Dawkins Freethinker of the Year Award. The contrast between the dying hero and his attempt to list suitable reading material for a thriving young mind is exceedingly heartwarming and stimulating.

I could go on and on, but let me stop here. One last point, let us atheists help those personal faiths be kept personal.

Fred Young
China and United States

Unlike most atheists I have come across, I am an atheist because I am a profoundly irrational person; my life is dominated by narrative, by fictions and lies, performance and artifice. In other words, I am a literary scholar. Two factors shaped my early life: I was raised without early first hand exposure to religion by an artist and a psychology professor who self-identified as atheists, and my extended family concealed a dark secret about my grandmother. Because I was not exposed to religion until the fourth grade, when little friends started trying to “save” me, the Bible stories I encountered struck me as no more believable than any of the many, many other narratives I had been reading. Middle Earth, Wonderland, Oz, Avonlea, Villa Villekulla, the court of King Arthur, and even Narnia had primed me to look upon the Biblical Judea as just another historical fiction.

The fact that no one in my family would tell me why my grandmother had only one leg sparked any number of possible explanations in my overactive imagination, each one embellished until it became a pathos-filled romance of suffering and redemption. This early lesson in my own brain’s ability to speculate wildly illustrates perfectly the psychology of religion and the drive to find unambiguous answers to things that, for various reasons, are beyond our ken. And even when, as a young adult, I was given the “real” answer in the form of newspaper articles describing the incident, it quickly became clear that this “answer” contained yet more unanswerable questions (no one will ever know why my grandmother’s step-father attempted to murder her in a drunken rage, or why he missed and ended up shooting her in the knee). I am a relativist through and through, largely at ease with ambiguity. Science per se has almost nothing to do with my atheism.

Ellen Rees
Norway

I grew up very active in a conservative Southern Baptist church. I
served in music ministry, set up Vacation Bible School, went on
domestic and international mission trips, took Bible courses at a
Baptist college, and chaperoned youth trips. I truly believed in God
with all my heart, with all my mind, and with all my soul.

I always thought that Christians became atheists because they were mad
a God; that it is an act of rebellion against giving God total control
of their life. The complete opposite happened to me.

I drifted away from the faith for several years because I became
disillusioned with the mingling of right wing politics with the
pulpit, but then I discovered several progressive Christian writers
such as Shane Claiborne and Donald Miller, and I felt a renewed zeal
to study the Bible and pursue my personal relationship with God. It’s
funny that this pursuit of God led to my atheism.

Several years ago I traveled to Japan and China and visited Shinto
shrines and Buddhist temples and it occurred to me that these people
that I was meeting and getting to know have morals and ethics often as
great as or greater than most Christians I know. I read Confucius
Lives Next Door by T.R. Reid and pondered how can so many Asians have
such high moral standards, lower crime rates, strong communities and
families, all without Jesus?

Around this same time, over the span of several years, I began to
learn more about the world around me. When I was little, God was
bigger than I could imagine and there was no truth, no morality
outside God. One day I came across this thought exercise: “If God told
you to kill someone, would you do it?” Of course the answer would be
that God would never ask me to do that. “But if he did tell you, that
it was for the greater good, part of his plan?” I would have to answer
no. My morals would never allow me to take another life. I’m a firm
believer in non-violence and pacifism. At this moment I was almost
shocked to realize what this means: my values go beyond God – go
deeper than God. It is as if God got a little smaller, or the universe
as I know it got a little bigger.

As I studied the Bible more in my quest to grow closer to God, the
more issues with theology I discovered. Perhaps the greatest issue I
had was with salvation, or put simply, “who goes to heaven and who
goes to hell.” If salvation is though faith in Jesus alone, then it is
unjust to condemn those who have never heard the Gospel, and equally
unfair if these people get a “free pass” to heaven while those who, to
varying degrees, have heard the Gospel are judged.

The more and more I learned about the world, the more I disagreed with
the exclusivity of faith in Christ. Somebody who earnestly says a
prayer accepting Jesus, then goes about life as usual, is more
deserving of heaven than a Buddhist monk who dedicates his entire life
to feeding the poor and clothing the needy, and caring for the sick?
After all, Matthew 25 pretty plainly states that those who do “unto
the least of these” are rewarded with heaven and those who selfishly
do not are condemned. How do you reconcile “faith alone” with this
teaching? How does simply saying a prayer supersede this? Maybe just
praying the “Sinner’s prayer” and repenting of sins is not enough.

I thought that perhaps I am a Universalist – that there are many paths
in life and all people will eventually be reconciled to God. But if
this is true, then why is there a need to believe in God anyway?
What’s the difference, as long as I seek to live out the message of
Matthew 25 and seek to “love my neighbor as myself?”

Still, I tried fervently to seek God in spite of growing doubts. I
wanted to believe that he existed. I prayed that he would show me the
way. Lying in bed at night I prayed until I cried, begging that he
would restore my faith. I read more Christian books and studied the
Bible more fervently.

Eventually I accepted what my heart and mind was telling me – there is
not God. It’s not that I didn’t believe in Jesus’ teaching, but that
his divinity and the existence of a God seemed increasingly unlikely
in light of what I was learning about the world around me. I never
stopped believing in the Bible in the sense that it is the greatest
source of moral truth in my life. Jesus’ teachings such as the Sermon
on the Mount and Matthew 25 form the basis of my ethics. I will always
follow my conscience and seek peace, justice, equality for all people
through love.

I guess some Christians will say it is okay – people take many paths
and all people will be reconciled to God eventually. Some will say
that I’ll eventually “come back around.” Some will say that I was
never a Christian to begin with, or that I was not predestined, or
elected, by God. My faith was completely real to me for the better
part of two decades. I was certain that God heard and answered my
prayers. I felt his supernatural presence in still quiet moments of
worship.

But now I realize that it was just a creation of my own mind. I want
to be honest with myself and use reason and logic, not blind faith, to
explore the world. Life as a human being is very precious, and it is
something to be cherished. I want to spend my life creating “heaven”
on earth for the “least of these.”

James Willamor
United States