Confessions of a Former Evangelical

Confession: I’ve never actually met a Jew. Well, maybe I did. Growing up in the Bible Belt, the "Jesus" I practically had tattooed across my forehead may have scared them away. So I haven’t knowingly met anyone Jewish, anyways. My experience with Judaism extends to the Bible, a Seder meal at church, and what I’ve seen on television. (Fiddler on the Roof used to be my favorite movie!) If I did, they probably wouldn’t have liked me very much. While I didn’t feel I was superior as a person, I did feel that my religion was superior.

See, we weren’t anti-Semitic, per se. I did not hear many of the racial slurs and ridiculous rumors until I reached adulthood, or nearly so. On the contrary, growing up in a conservative branch of evangelical Christianity, we loved Judaism. I remember someone pointing out a Jewish woman at a church service I attended, and I was filled with awe: so that’s what one of G-d’s chosen people looked like! Though because I didn’t actually meet her, I can still say I’ve never met anyone who is Jewish.

As respectful of Judaism as we were in some ways, we weren’t quite in others. Instead of racist, we were more religionist, if you will. We were evangelical Christians. So while we backed, almost fanatically, Jewish causes in the Middle East and looked up to Jews, we still thought that Jews were going to hell. See, somehow, to us, Jews used to be G-d’s chosen people, but when they rejected the Salvation He provided for them, Christians became G-d’s chosen people. (See the parable of the banquet found in Luke 14.) As annoying it may be for non-Christians, it really is well-intentioned, if not sorely misguided.

Fortunately, I got out of that situation and am no longer an evangelical Christian, but an atheist. So how did that happen? How did I go from on fire for G-d, conservative Baptist minister’s wife to active, passionate atheist? Not just an atheist, but one who has gone on a sort of crusade against the beliefs I once held very dear? I am not against religion in general, or even Christianity in general, but fundamentalism. Of course, there are people who are happy in their fundamentalist lifestyle, but it damages so many people, both in and out of conservative Christianity.

I would say I was the ideal Baptist girl, but I wasn’t really. Not mainstream Baptist, anyway – the Good Christian Girl who never got into any trouble. I was caught somewhere between conservativism and ultra-conservatism, which meant I didn’t really fit in anywhere. I bought everything handed to me hook, line, and sinker: Christianity, salvation, purity, and men’s superiority. At the age of 18, I felt the "call" into the ministry.

I got into ministry because, at the time, I really just loved the Lord. I wanted to share that with people, Jews included. I thought Jesus made me happy. I didn’t realize, like so many people don’t, that allowing Jesus into your life seems to help solve all of your problems at first, but later creates them if you allow yourself to fall deeper into conservativism. It isolates you from friends, family, the outside world, creating more loneliness and more need for Him.

At the age of 19 – having never been kissed, having never had a boyfriend – I met my future former husband. A ministry student at my conservative Christian college, I thought he was The One. We were married eleven months later. After finishing my degree in 2006, I settled in to become a stay-at-home minister’s wife, and, that July, a stay-at-home mother as well.

Things were not going as well as Jesus promised. My husband did not understand the word "no" or the concept of boundaries in the bedroom. Having the level of purity I walked in to marriage with didn’t make me attractive once there, because I was so naïve. Many things he wanted made me feel dirty and used. I did them, as a submissive wife and because saying "no" didn’t really matter: eventually, we did what he wanted. Usually, when he wanted, too.

I know now that many of the things he did constituted as emotional abuse, too. An insatiable need to be right about everything, interrupting me constantly, and rarely showing me any respect all led to some pretty miserable times. Not to mention, that now that my husband was paid clergy, the church he worked for felt that I was their property as well. Friendships, hobbies, and happiness slowly faded from my life. Meanwhile, I began exploring theology on my own. I found that much of it didn’t hold up to impartial consideration. Applying rationality to it didn’t work. Of course, the answer in this case was always "You have to have faith." My faith – and my sanity – began to crumble.

In 2007, we moved to a town very close to Harrison, Arkansas, which is home of the largest faction of the Ku Klux Klan, the Knights of the KKK. While I didn’t ever have any direct experience with them, I did hear a lot of racism about the Mexican immigrants in town, even in the church. I felt powerless. I felt like I didn’t have a voice. I couldn’t do anything about the racism. I didn’t have any friends. I lived three and a half hours away from family. I had no job, nothing to call my own – except for school. My conservativism had melted away, and I became more moderate. I began working on my Master’s degree in Counseling. Unfortunately, the school I chose was also conservative, so everywhere I went, there was this expectation of perfection and religious pressure to do more, be more, and "grow in Christ" more.

One night, I fell completely apart under the pressure. I decided to commit a horrible sin: I was going to drink alcohol with my husband and a friend of his. Having very little experience with alcohol, I became more intoxicated than I meant. During that time, my husband decided to assert his will in the bedroom. Suddenly, he climbed off of me, and asked his friend to come watch. My cheeks burned, but I didn’t say anything. He climbed off again. "Here, you take a turn," he told his friend. At that point, I broke.

That incident became the wake-up call I needed to get out of my bad marriage. Never had I felt so used, so betrayed. So I left him.

For the first time in my life, I felt free to figure out what I believed about religion and what I wanted out of life. I explored the Presbyterian church, and settled on the Episcopal. Eventually, however, I gave up on it entirely and I couldn’t be happier. There are so many ways evangelical Christianity kept me from living my life and being who I am, and I didn’t realize it until it was gone.

That’s not to say there was no fallout from this. As a stay-at-home mother, I had no resources. This is one of the reasons many women who want to get out of their marriages stay in them anyway. Unable to find a job and attain financial independence, I wound up giving up on sole custody and agreeing to joint custody instead. It has been incredibly agonizing to go from stay at home mother to part-time mother. In the job field, all of my references were conservative Christians and pastors, so I have suddenly had no one to vouch for me. I have tons of volunteer work and nobody to back my story, except my parents. Between a sketchy job history (because I believed that was staying at home and not working was G-d’s role for women) and lack of references, I am nearly unemployable.

Overall, though, I am much happier, and confident that eventually, those problems will be solved in one way or another.

So, That’s a brief outline of who I am and where I come from. I didn’t realize how little I know about modern Judaism until I began writing this article. I say Biblical times, you say. . . I have no idea. And I had heard that many Jews hyphenate G-d, but I hadn’t ever actually seen it until I began reading some of the material and comments on this site. It has been enlightening. Any Jews in Fayetteville, Arkansas who care to give me lessons in Judaism, give me a shout out! And if anyone has any questions about the evangelical perspective of Jews and Judaism, ask and I will answer.