There is a lovely interview with a member of the Swedish Humanist Association in SvD, titled “Att lämna tron var en befrielse” - “To leave faith was liberating”. Markus Anhage was formerly a very devout member of the Pentecostal church, a faith inherited from his parents.
The belief in God was as self-evident as the fil on the breakfast table. His family prayed and went to church regularly. But over Markus’ twelfth summer, something happened to his faith. He started burning, as they said in the pentecostal assembly. Every morning he got up an hour earlier to pray before he went to school. “God your will be done in heaven, your will be done in Sweden, your will be done at school. Let your kingdom come to me. Thank you Jesus for dying for me”, and so on.
Religion was everything to Markus, and consequently he was an outsider at school. The other kids bullied him and scribbled “hate god!” on his locker. But he wasn’t sad, after all, the bible said that christians should expect to be mocked for their faith. He saw the bullying as a receipt: He had the right religion.
Markus’ teenage years were mostly happy, but towards the end of high school he started experiencing doubts. How could there be so much evil in the world if God was good? He became depressed, and saw it as an attack from the devil. He refers to this time in his life as the “ambivalent” period. Eventually,
Markus heard that he could read about other religions, he would still find that christianity was the best one. For the first time in his life he read critiques of the bible, he devoured religious encyclopaediae from cover to cover, he studied philsophy and surfed muslim webpages. But instead of strengthening his faith, he lost it.
“I know that there are people, but I don’t know if there are gods. Therefore I focus on the humans. Science is limited and our intellects are limited. I have many questions and empty holes, but I don’t stick God, spirits or demons in them anymore.”
Two years ago his son was born with a heart defect, and needed a pacemaker when he was two years old. Markus couldn’t reconcile this with people’s claims of small miracles such as God helping them find an apple. He finally took the step and left his church. He describes the experience as physically liberating: It was suddenly easier to walk. No longer did he have to fear hell, no longer was he plagued by guilt over his human weaknesses. Finally, he was allowed to think for himself. But his wife is still in the church and he felt lonely. He joined the Swedish Humanist Association, looking for others like him, someone to talk to.
He points out that just like there are both wonderful and intolerant people in churches, there are both wonderful and intolerant people in non-religious groups. He wishes groups would intermingle more, instead of christians, muslims, atheists and others staying apart, refusing to communicate and try to understand each other.
To help people like himself get in touch with others in the same situation, he has started a network called Exkristen, “Ex-christian”.
Despite the very gentle tone of the article and the fact that Markus comes across as a very kind and tolerant individual who openly discusses the pain of losing his faith and how much better he feels afterwards, many of the comments to the article read as personal criticisms of his character and life choices. Especially against the choice of joining the SHA, which someone describes as a “religion devoid of feelings”. I have been subject to the same treatment when, about a year ago, I was in a similar article in the same newspaper. I was derided and accused of being a haughty and immature girl, thinking I know everything, and that “I’d probably come round as I got older”. I don’t understand why some people have trouble accepting that people might feel better without faith in an invisible friend, and why having strong opinions and a penchant for natural science translates into thinking you know everything. I don’t know any atheists personally who’d anonymously throw personal criticism in the face of religious people, but apparently the golden rule doesn’t apply if you’re religious and feel your faith’s being threatened.
It’s really depressing, especially given how few people are actually religious in Sweden. Thankfully, most of the commenters on Markus’ article seem to be nice, generous people who supports his decision and applauds him for being brave and open about it.
atheism, christianity, sweden, apostasy, ex-christian, humanism
I love New Year’s Eve. It’s completely arbitrary, unlike christmas which can at least be said to have something to do with solstice, but it’s still a nice custom. I never made any resolutions, and I won’t do it this year either, but here’s what I hope I will manage to do this year: Get my bachelor’s degree done so I can move on to starting on a Master at either Uppsala University or someplace even cooler.