What I Gained by Giving Up God
By Charles Owens
I was an ordained minister for over a decade, but now I say, “I’m an atheist,” whenever someone asks about my religious beliefs. This is not my deconversion story. Instead, this story is about what I’ve gained by giving up God, and how embracing atheism has led to living a fuller and more authentic life.
At the age of twenty I had a terrifying realization. I don’t remember what triggered it, but suddenly a thought crept into my mind that left me numb and frightful. I realized that someday I was going to die. At that age I assumed I still had more years ahead than I had years in the rear-view mirror, but in the back of my mind was this nagging voice that said each passing day was one day closer to my inevitable end.
Looking back, I see how my existential crisis at age twenty propelled me to take a deep dive into the Christian faith. Christianity promises that there is a God who loves humanity, who listens to our prayers, and who prepares a heavenly home for us when it is our time to die. I took that message and wrapped myself in it like a baby would a blanket.
Fast-forward to my early thirties, and a new existential crisis took hold of me. This time, it was a crisis of authenticity. I stood up at the pulpit every Sunday and assured people there was a creator God who cared about humanity, and I preached at funerals about how someday we’ll be reunited with our loved ones in heaven with God — but did I believe any of this was true? I lived a double life where in public I was a Christian religious leader, but in private I had my doubts.
Leaving Christianity and giving up my career as an ordained minister was one of the most painful chapters of my life, yet it was also one of the most life-giving decisions I’ve ever made. I can look back and see how clinging to Christianity was an immature response to a serious crisis I faced as a young adult. I took off the security blanket of religion, and made peace with the knowledge that this life is all we have.
Every spring, wildflowers carpet the forest floors throughout Minnesota. Rarely do these flowers last longer than a few weeks. The sunlight no longer reaches the wildflowers once the trees are full of leaves. The wildflowers wither and die. I treasure the moments when I’m on a hike and the wildflowers are at the peak of their beauty, because I know the moment is fleeting.
The same is true for our lives. Our life doesn’t have meaning because there is a God or because there is an eternal life. Instead, our life has meaning because when it’s over — it’s over!
Each of us has one life to live, so how will we spend that life? Who are the people we choose as our loved ones? What kind of work will we do? What causes will we devote ourselves to? How will we make space for beauty, art, and creativity? How will we balance adult responsibilities with the need to occasionally indulge in childlike playfulness? How will we continue to learn and maintain a sense of wonder as we grow older? How will we help others so they can live their lives to the fullest? What do we want our legacy to be?
We are all going to die, so how will we make the most of this limited time that we have? Religious belief stunts our ability to live a full and authentic life by emmeshing us in a fantasy that says this is not the only life we have to live. As someone who has said no to God and yes to accepting that this is the only life I have to live, I find myself to be more at peace. I savor life’s moments — whether it’s a conversation with my wife, a delicious meal, a hike in the woods, a good book, and so on — because I know it will all someday come to an end.
