Why I am Giving up the Recovering Faith Podcast and Blog

Welcome back to the Recovering Faith Podcast and Blog. As you have undoubtably noticed, I have not had a new episode of the Recovering Faith Podcast and Blog for almost a year now, for which I apologize. Since I just abruptly stopped producing content and didn’t say a word about it, you have probably been wondering why, and some of you may even be worried that something traumatic and terrible has happened in my life to cause me to abandoned the podcast after not missing an episode in two and a half years. Nothing quite so dramatic has happened, and the answer to the question as to why I haven’t been posting is a bit complex, and I myself have been struggling to put it into a cohesive thought, which is what this episode is attempting to do. 

Some of you may be greatly surprised by what I am about to say, and others probably saw it coming for a long time.

I have always been an introspective person, sometimes to my own detriment, however, it has not always been easy for me to explain, even to myself, exactly what I was feeling or why I was feeling it and it takes me a while to parse it all out. My hope is that by the end of this work I will have untangled the gnarled mess of a web that is my mind and that I will have explained myself so fully and succinctly that you can understand where I am coming from. After I have said my piece and put my thoughts out on the public chopping block, I hope you will be able to empathize with, me even if you can’t relate, and that if you feel the need to comment you do so from a place of love and mutual respect. However, being a realist, I know how the comment sections of internet pages work, and I don’t expect everyone to play nice. With that said, let’s begin.

First off, I have a confession to make, I am an addict and was so for as long as I can remember. No, I am not addicted to alcohol or any substance, or even any vice, I am addicted to religion, and try as I may, I have never been able to shake the addiction. For some reason, whether I am participating in a religion or not, religion and theology have always been maniacally important to me, and I have no clear idea as to why. My sisters were raised in the same culture and environment that I was and subjected to the same religious fervor and teachings, and they share no such obsession of religion, which offers some interesting insights into the nature vs. nurture debate, but that is not the subject of today’s podcast and blog, so we will move on.

In order to fully understand why I haven’t been posting for quite some time, and to understand why I have taken such a long time to talk about why I haven’t been posting, I must first discuss why I started the podcast in the first place. As the name of the podcast, Recovering Faith, indicates, it was an attempt to help both myself and others recover their faith after coming from an abusive or controlling religion, or after loosing faith altogether. All of the before mentioned scenarios apply to me and my situation as I was involved in, not one but, two different cults, and then I completely lost my faith in a rather public and dramatic fashion, putting my hatred of all things religion on display for the world to see.  

For the sake of those who may not have read all of my earlier blogs, or listened to my earlier podcast episodes, I will go through a little of my religious journey. Hopefully in doing so I’ll provide an understanding of my life and mental state leading up to the founding of this blog and podcast so that my reasons for starting the project in the first place will make sense. 

My first encounter with religion was, realistically, my first day on earth as I was taught my father’s particular brand of hell fire and damnation, fear the end of the world, everything that is not part of the religion is of the devil, fundamentalist Christian religion from birth. My mental state as a child is a bit difficult to explain as I thought that everything my parents taught me must be true because they were teaching it to me while, at the same time, doubting literally everything they told me as it was painfully obvious that much of it was not exactly congruent with reality, and demonstrably so. 

In the religion I grew up in, physical and mental abuse in the name of God were the norm, the rules and doctrine were constantly in a state of flux, and almost everything that happened in the world was a sign of the end times and therefore cause to panic. While I logically knew from an extremely early age that the religion of my birth was not correct and that noting about it was good,  wholesome or holy, a deeply instilled fear kept me from admitting, even to myself, that I was questioning the faith. I was taught to believe that if I were ever to question the faith even slightly that by doing so I would be committing a mortal sin that would not only offend God, putting my eternal destiny in jeopardy, but I would also be betraying my family in the most vile and disrespectful of ways. I also could not lightly dismiss the real possibility that if I questioned my father’s teaching too much that I may disappear to never be seen again, or at least not alive. Some of my father’s favorite things to say were, “I could be like Jim Jones if I wanted to be,” and, “If you ever betray me no one will ever find your body.” 

I eventually broke free from the faith, but it took years and countless hours of therapy to mostly root out all of its tendrils from my brain, but the years of intense conditioning caused me to think I needed to replace the false faith with one that was true. Honestly, I am not sure that I will ever be able to completely undo all of the harm and mental conditioning instilled in me by my childhood. When I gave up on my father’s religious teachings I am not sure that I had what could be described as a “God shaped hole” in my soul as I had never had what could be considered a true religious experience, but the abandonment of my faith certainly left a noticeable void in my psyche. Breaking free from an oppressive religion gave me too much freedom and I wasn’t sure what to do with it so I subconsciously felt the need to give away some of my freedom for structure and some sort of a promise of future happiness. 

With a mindset such as I had at that time, it wasn’t long before I was deceived by yet another cult. The new cult was enticing to me because of how nice the people were to me and because of how much they truly seamed to care about me, and also in no small part due to their persuasive recruiting tactics. I was searching for meaning in my life but wasn’t sure what that would look like so I was a prime candidate for conversion to the faith. 

 I had severe doubts early on in my new faith that persisted throughout, but not willing to admit that I had been deceived yet again, only this time by my own doing instead of it being forced upon me from birth,  I convinced myself that the problem was with me and not the religion. As a result of thinking I was the problem and not the church, I devoted my entire life to the church for more than ten years, giving everything that was asked of me, and then some, even going so far as to spend two entire years fully committed to converting others to the faith. I really should have learned my lesson and cut my losses sooner, but I have not always subscribed to the notion that a person should not continue in a mistake just because he or she had so much invested in it. 

When I finally broke free from the second cult that had ensnared me, I decided that all religions were false and that there were no God and I set out to prove to the world that god was nothing more than a fairytale, and an insidious one at that. For the better part of five years I could accurately be described as a militant atheist, or even a militant anti-theist. The point is, I made it my mission in life to destroy religion, and honestly, during that point in my life I was so angry at having devoted my entire life to a lie that I was often an insufferable jerk, to put it politely. 

At the time, I worked for a tour bus company and the boss, who was also atheist, thought it was hilarious to put me with church groups as he thought it would make me uncomfortable, and sometimes it did. Mostly though, I just ignored the religious passengers and never let on that I did not buy what they were selling, partially because I thought it may effect my tip, but mostly because I just didn’t want them to try and convert me to their brand of religion. You see, if they thought I was already deeply converted to another sect they would just let me be, but if they thought I was lost they would make it their mission to save me. 

Eventually I was at the right place in my life where the right group would have some effect upon me and I started to reconsider religion and the existence of God. I was just starting to recover mentally and financially from a horribly contentious and devastating divorce, and I felt there was something truly missing from my life, and since having some sort of meaning was always exceedingly important to me, when I was invited to join in on the group I agreed, and the event affected me the way in which it was designed to, I eventually started considering the possibility that there may be a God, and I even started attending church. 

I’m not sure why I thought attending a religion would give purpose and meaning to my life as faith in God and participating in religious activities had never given me a sense of purpose or meaning before, but I thought that perhaps I just hadn’t tried the “right” one. 

Despite the fact that I was attending church every week, reading the Bible daily, praying, going to Bible study, and doing all of the things a “good Christian” is expected to do, I was still plagued by doubt and determined that I should organize my thoughts as to why I doubted and thought that perhaps it would help with my faith.

After a while I decided that my faith journey may even help others in a similar situation and I started the Recovering Faith podcast and blog. The ultimate goal, or as some may say, the prime directive, of this podcast and blog was to work through all of my issues of doubt, and in the process, grow and strengthen my faith, hopefully helping others in similar situations along the way. Sounds simple, right? Well, it was not always as easy as that, and despite often sounding confident in my faith, not only were my efforts not having the desired effect upon my faith but I began to struggle mightily with the motivation to continue the podcast and blog and I often had to force myself to produce new content, which was sometimes almost more than I could mentally handle. For the record, because I hosted a Christian podcast, some people came to the conclusion that I was solid in my faith, despite the fact that I never actually claimed that I was, and I was always fairly honest and upfront about my doubts.

Part of the reason I struggled so much in producing new episodes is that, while others had no way of knowing this, I was struggling so much with faith that I felt like a hypocrite, a poser, a fraud, a fake Christian and a charlatan in urging people to have faith in something that I myself struggled with so deeply and on such a fundamental level that it kept me awake countless hours at night. I felt stuck. By this point I had quite a following on my podcast and blog and felt like I would be letting people down to quit, yet I didn’t know if I could continue. When I finally manage to miss an episode, it became much easier to miss the next time, and even easier to miss the one after that, and the one after that, until I finally gave myself permission to quit. 

Looking back, I really should have just announced that I was going to take a break from the podcast, but I had convinced myself that I would start it back up the next week, and every week I told myself that until a year had passed by. 

From the day I decided to give God a second chance, I read the Bible almost daily and prayed multiple times per day. I persisted even though I didn’t get much out of reading the Bible and it felt like nothing more than reading a book I had read multiple times before and the act of praying made me feel silly and awkward, like I was having a conversation with myself. I chided myself, and even judged myself, for feeling that way, but I could not help how I felt and I didn’t know what to do to change the situation.

I longed for that deep relationship with God that people often tell me they have, but praying has never amounted to much more than talking to myself and I have never felt like I have received a divine answer to a question asked of God or divine intervention to a situation I brought before God, and I have never felt the presence of God in my life. Most of my life I felt like if there was a God who cared about his children and communicated with them that I must be doing something wrong as I received no such communication and never felt the unconditional love others talk about so fondly. I reasoned that either there was something so deficient in me that God did not care about me, or else everyone else was exaggerating their encounters with God, if not outright lying about them. As is typical with me, I went with the assumption that all of the people who were telling me they have a deeply profound relationship with God spoke truthfully and accurately when the described their experience and that the problem was with me.

I often say this, but it is completely true: There have been times in my life when I was absolutely certain there was a God and there have been times in my life when I was absolutely certain there was no God, but there has never been a time in my life when I haven’t cared either way, and I think therein lies the problem. Faith and religion have always been such a huge part of my personal identity that, honestly, I am not sure I know who I am without it. Often as a child when my sisters were thinking about the latest cartoon or toy, I was thinking about God and religion and otherwise trying to figure out life. My sisters always wanted to watch cartoons, but I would often get up early on Sunday mornings and watch the preachers on the television. 

I am well aware that at this point most of my atheist friends, assuming they even care enough to read this or listen to it, are thinking I was foolish to “go crawling back to religion” and my Christian friends, assuming they care enough to read this or listen to it, are worried that I am backsliding and putting my salvation at risk. There are quite a number of my friends at church, including the pastor, who say they listen to my podcast, and their reaction to this post, or lack thereof, will tell me whether or not that is actually the case.

I am still doing all of the things, or at least most of the things, expected of a “good Christian” man such as attending church, volunteering to help at church, leading a small group Bible study, which I did not volunteer for, and reading the Bible, but the honest truth is, my faith hasn’t grown, hasn’t been strengthened and I am just going through the motions. Despite the undisputed fact that I know the Bible better than anyone else in my small group Bible study, I think I am the person least qualified to lead it on account of my faith deficit and I feel like a fraud every time I teach, yet when I asked the church to release me they declined. So far as I know, no one in the group knows that I tried to quit. At this point I feel stuck as I don’t feel like I can quit, but I don’t feel right about continuing either. 

With all that I have revealed, you may ask why then do I go to church at all, and the honest answer is because I desperately want and need it to be true, but knowing this, I don’t think I can continue to put out episodes of a podcast encouraging people to have faith in something that I myself don’t have faith in. If I were to continue to put out episodes I would either have to be honest about my doubts, which may cause others to doubt, or I would have to be dishonest and disingenuous. 

I want to believe that there is an all-powerful all-knowing, all-loving God that has a divine plan for my life and that all of my suffering, and indeed all of the suffering throughout the world throughout all time, has been to further some greater purpose, but I would be lying if I said I actually believe that. Even when I was militant against religion, I wanted to believe there was a god who loved me and had a divine purpose for my life, I just couldn’t and I saw no reasonable argument for it. I still have seen no evidence that there is a God, or at least not a God that takes an active part in the affairs on this earth, and especially not a God that cares about my life.

The reason that I now consider myself to be a Christian and a “believer” in Christ is not because I have seen some irrefutable evidence, because as far as I can tell, no such evidence exists. It is not because I had some deep and profound religious experience, because I have had no such experience; the best I can claim is one time getting emotional during a church service, while I was also deeply depressed. The reason I go to church, the reason I call myself a Christian, and the reason I consider myself a follower of Christ is simply and truthfully because I want to believe it and I want it to be true. Religion and faith meets a deeply seated emotional need and I can’t otherwise justify my participation in it or my adherence to it. I am no fan of Karl Marx, but he perhaps was correct when he said, “Religion is the opium of the people.” Perhaps at this point in my life I need a little opium, but it may not always be the case. 

C.S. Lewis, who is widely considered to be one of the greatest Christian writers of all times, said, “Christianity, if false, is of no importance, and if true, of infinite importance. The only thing it cannot be is marginally important.” I completely agree with Lewis on his assessment, and I hope and pray that I will be divinely, or scientifically, shown that Christianity is of ultimate importance, but for now, it is fulfilling a utilitarian need in my life, but I am not sure how long it will remain so in the absence of evidence. 

So, as Paul Harvey always said, “Not you know the rest of the story.” Hopefully you now understand why I have not been posting episodes of the Recovering Faith Podcast and Blog, and hopefully you don’t now look at me in too unkind a light. 

This is Gene Curl signing off.