Six years ago, my father came out at nearly 50 years old, and that moment marked the beginning of my departure from religion. At the time, I was in my late twenties, married, and a new mom. Although it wasn’t a shocking revelation, I needed time to process it, especially since it came soon after my parents announced their amicable divorce. The initial years that followed were challenging as we navigated this new chapter together.
A couple of years later, my dad married a wonderful man, providing my children with an extra grandfather whom they adore. Meanwhile, my mom has flourished in her new life as a single woman. Although a lot has changed, our new normal brings us more happiness than we had before. Yet, one struggle remains: my relationship with religion.
My Upbringing
Raised in a conservative Christian household, my upbringing revolved around traditional beliefs. My parents were staunch Republicans, worked for Christian organizations, and our lives were filled with church activities and Christian music. I met my husband in church, and that faith was all I knew until my early twenties.
A Shift in Perspective
As I grew older, my perspective began to shift. Initially, I felt disillusioned with purity culture, but soon, I found myself questioning everything. Meeting diverse people opened my eyes to the shortcomings of my upbringing. I realized that my faith was often exclusive and didn’t allow me to love others as they deserved. It became increasingly uncomfortable to push people away simply because they held different beliefs.
I began to see the discrimination prevalent in many churches. Women were often not treated as equals, and I witnessed individuals being barred from ministry because of their size. The treatment of LGBTQ individuals was particularly troubling; many are forced to hide their identities. Understanding the extent of these issues prompted a significant transformation in my views.
Struggles with Beliefs
I found it hard to identify as pro-life while understanding the implications of denying women the right to choose. While I could hold personal views on abortion, I couldn’t justify voting to strip that choice away from others. I also couldn’t reconcile my faith with voting against LGBTQ rights or ignoring the struggles of immigrants and refugees. The realities of gun violence, police brutality, and racial inequality became glaringly evident to me.
As my social circle became more diverse, my disagreement with the beliefs of my youth deepened. However, I hesitated to walk away entirely. Instead, I sought out inclusive spaces where I could worship without ostracizing those I loved. I feared what life would be like without the church.
The Final Catalyst
Then my father came out, and that was the final catalyst. I couldn’t bear the thought of my children feeling confused or scared by messages about damnation directed at their grandfather. It was vital for them to hear the truth from me, so no harmful messages could penetrate their hearts. The idea of sending them to Sunday school to sing about a Savior whose love many believed didn’t extend to their grandfather was unbearable.
I attempted to stay connected to church, but when I sang worship songs, it felt hollow. The sermons seemed aimed at someone else. Even in the progressive megachurches in Nashville, I sensed that acceptance didn’t equate to full inclusion. Many would be friendly to my father while believing his loving marriage was sinful. They might allow him to help with menial tasks, but they wouldn’t let him teach or lead. It was disheartening to know that many followers of my faith would feel justified in discriminating against him.
Finding My Own Path
As the divide between God and organized religion grew, I realized I could still pursue a relationship with God without being part of an institution that viewed my father as a sinner. Rejecting that part of the doctrine made staying in the church feel absurd. I questioned what I was teaching my children; surely, I could love others as my heart guided me while still believing in God. However, I knew that this journey might require stepping away from the church for a time.
Right now, I’m still in this period of retreat. I miss the sense of community that church provided and often contemplate returning, feeling lonely in my absence. For a while, my family attended a church with my dad and his husband that embraced full LGBTQ inclusion. The environment felt welcoming, with diverse leadership and a focus on kindness. However, I eventually stepped back because I wasn’t ready to fully commit. I still want to return, but I need more time to process.
A New Understanding of Faith
During this transformative period, I came across the Thomas Merton Prayer, which resonated deeply with me. It emphasizes that I might not have it all figured out, but I’m doing my best by choosing love—something I believe a loving God would want. That’s the essence of my faith for now.
Ultimately, I hold onto hope that my desire to do right by others will be enough as I navigate this journey.
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Summary
The author recounts their journey of distancing themselves from religion after their father came out. Raised in a conservative Christian household, they grappled with the contradictions between their upbringing and their evolving beliefs about love, inclusion, and social justice. Ultimately, they chose to take time away from organized religion to navigate their feelings about faith and family.