The other day, I was flipping through a self-help book given to me by a friend when I saw a quote that sent shivers through me. A well-meaning book, it nevertheless gave readers tips for how to deal with lies told by “the Enemy.”
As in Satan, the invisible, demonic creature that Christians blame for every bad thing that happens in the universe.
I grew up absolutely terrified of Satan
At night, I was convinced that Satan was waiting just outside the confines of my bed, and that if I did not pray myself to sleep, he’d get me.
Once I got to be a teenager and movies like Paranormal Activity came out, the commercials alone sent me into deep and dreadful fears about Satan possessing me.
I would pray fervently to Jesus and then, of its own dreadful accord, my mind would say, “Welcome, Satan! Come into my mind!” and I would nearly pass out from fear.
I was sure that I’d become possessed within seconds.
Once possessed, what terrible things would I wreak on the world? I could hardly stand the thought
My parents always told me that God loved me. My Sunday school teachers sang songs about it all the time, so God was less terrifying than his evil nemesis.
But only slightly.
The Romans 10 verse, “If you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved” started keeping me up at night when I was 5 years old.
Even at that tender age, I wasn’t sure if God or Jesus were real
It seemed like such a one-sided relationship.
I talked and talked to the two of them. They never gave anything back.
I begged them for the gift of prophecy. Of speaking in tongues. I knew that if I had the faith of a mustard seed I could move mountains, so one day I rallied all the faith I could muster and convinced myself that Jesus would be coming back after my breakfast bowl of oatmeal so I wouldn’t have to go to school.
He didn’t come, of course, and I figured there was some heavenly reason for this failure. Or maybe my faith just hadn’t been strong enough.
A tiny voice in my 5-year-old head whispered, “But what if none of it is real?”
I’d mentally flagellate myself for this unbelief, weeping alone at night because I was convinced I’d never get into heaven
I didn’t want to be left behind while my family enjoyed chatting with Jesus in the hereafter, all of them lazing around on an emerald street with lions and sheep.
Even worse, I didn’t want to burn in a lake of fire for all eternity. I could vividly imagine the fire burning my flesh forever and ever, and the thought alone made my throat constrict with panic.
Talk about religious trauma.
I look back on all of this and it’s no surprise that I now struggle with multiple mental health issues.
When I had my first child, I vowed that I would raise him outside of religion
My kids would not be brainwashed the way I had been.
I’ve never once regretted my decision. My oldest is 6 now. He doesn’t know what hell is or who Satan is. He’s aware that some people believe in God and that mom used to and doesn’t anymore.
He doesn’t lie awake at night crying because he’s scared to burn for eternity. He doesn’t worry about his salvation, or fear that Satan is constantly trying to get in his head.
He won’t watch people of the world suffer and wonder why a supposedly loving and all-powerful God (who will nevertheless separate you from family for eternity if you don’t give him all your praise and admiration) would allow horrific things to happen.
We do talk about religions because they’re a massive part of our world. I read Relax, It’s Just God: How to Talk to Your Kids About Religion When You’re Not Religious by Wendy Thomas Russell. I want my kids to be accepting of all religions and thoughtfully consider whether or not they agree with the ideas for themselves.
Or at least to be aware of them so that they’re not blindsided by some well-meaning proselytizer who dumps God, hell, and salvation on them when they’re emotionally susceptible teenagers.
It’s not always easy to break the cycle of religious trauma
The US, while getting more secular every year, is still heavily religious.
So to all you parents who are out there raising kids who are scared of normal things like thunder and spiders and not Satan and hellfire: I salute you.
Let’s keep it up.
