Funny enough, weekly indoctrination isn’t all it is cracked up to be.

From baptism until age 9, I attended church regularly. I went to Sunday school. I recited prayers at mealtimes. And yet here I sit, devoid of any belief in a higher being.

During those regular hours of church attendance, I didn’t feel anything special, even though everyone told me I should. I was never consumed or touched by the power of God. My sister and I entertained ourselves by coloring on church bulletins. We looked forward to going across the street to McDonald’s afterward.

During Sunday school, my favorite part was the free cookies. I didn’t see the point of most of the exercises. I spent most of it starting off into space.

Mealtime prayer was nothing more than a chore. I felt thankful to my parents for putting the food on my plate, not to some inivisible man in the sky. When asked to recite the prayer, I regularly chose the shortest one.

When we moved to Colorado, my parents couldn’t find a good church, so they gave up. I felt no personal sense of loss. I guess they figured we were Christian enough for the time being.

Wrong.

I had never really been into the whole religion thing in the first place, so I found this lack of church a welcome reprieve. Plus I got to sleep in on Sundays for the first time ever.

For a while, I didn’t really concern myself with religion. I didn’t actively pray or think about God, nor did I question his existence. I was apathetic for many years. Not wanting to be taboo, I defined myself as agnostic. It seemed a safe choice.

In high school, I went to a youth group retreat with a friend. I felt like I was in a cult. People kept touching me and praying for me. They made me write a message to God in the sky with a sparkler. They thought I was strange for not owning a Bible. I felt completely out of place.

Other than that incident, I didn’t really concern myself much with religion. Most of my friends were Catholic, but they didn’t talk about it much beyond complaining about people from their church. I was extremely annoyed by Andrea’s friends that tried to argue that there are dinosaurs in the Bible.

In college I moved to the buckle of the Bible belt. I kept my mouth shut about my beliefs. I went to Church on Easter, thinking maybe something would change. A friend sent me a book that tries to “scientifically” prove creation. I engaged in a number of religious discussions. All any of it did was further convince me that there’s nothing out there but matter and energy. I kept my agnostic label though.

Last year, during a conversation with Andrea, the following exchange happened:

Me: I guess I call myself agnostic because even though I don’t believe in God, I know that I can’t prove that I’m right.
Andrea: So, you don’t believe there is a God?
Me: I’d say it might be possible. Anything is possible. But no, I don’t believe it personally.
Andrea: Megan, that makes you an atheist.
Me: Oh, ok. Cool.

Since then, I have realized that being an athiest in the South is not that big of a deal. I know a few other people who are, and my religious friends don’t really care one way or the other. Nobody has tried to convert me, and I have not yet been chased by an angry lynch mob. All in all, things are good.

Also: Not sure my parents have realized it yet. They will stumble upon it eventually I am sure.

And I’m not gonna be sad about skipping church this year. I just liked going because I get to sing and play with fire.

Grew up in a not particularly religious family in a somewhat religious part of the country. Parents dutifully took us to Sunday school and said prayers at dinner. I doodled on the church bulletins and my favorite part was breakfast at McDonald’s afterward.

Moved to Colorado; for whatever reason our parents stopped taking us to church. Religion was not a big deal among my friends so I never really thought about it. Then one day, one of the girls in our tight-knit group of four “found religion” and sent us a form letter explaining why she could no longer be our friend. She disappeared off the map; the other two are my best friends to this day. Hmm…friends or jesus…tough decision. Around this time I started to become skeptical of religion, but didn’t really have the words for what I believed.

Went off to college, realized that there are atheists in the world! I finally had people to talk to who felt like me. It was amazing. One day sophomore year, happened to mention to my parents over the phone that I don’t believe in God. Not like a big shocking confession, just in passing during some conversation about who knows what. I might as well have said I was pregnant and moving to Cuba with my crack-smoking boyfriend, because the reaction I got was one of sheer shock and disappointment. I don’t even remember what was said (“I thought we raised you better” may have been used) but I will never, ever forget that feeling…like I was an embarrassment to my family. They’re better about it now, but sometimes I can still sense that they are uncomfortable, I guess because it’s taboo. If anything, that incident made me even more vocal…now I want people to know that they know an atheist, and yes she is a very genuine and moral person, and no she does not worship the devil.

2006: This may be the first year ever that we don’t go to church on Xmas. I go along with it because of Grandma, and I will again, but I’d really rather not. The issues I have with religion have become clear to me this year in a way they’ve never been before, and I don’t know if I can go watch the absurdity of a church service without collapsing in a fit of hysterical laughter (which will most certainly get me kicked out, or worse, prayed for). Maybe it’s time to think up a new Xmas Eve tradition. Mario Kart anyone?