Christianity, As I Saw It (Chapter 1)

Well, I’ll open with a joke. This past summer, I was (wait for it…) the atheist working in the kitchen at a religious summer camp. I did more than cook delicious (and nutritious!) meals for the precious little youngsters- I also helped with their group talks and nightly assemblies. Yep, I upheld the lessons and teachings of Jesus Christ, while at the same time arguing with the counselors that he wasn’t holy in any way. And that didn’t spark any religious debates at all.
Believe me, there were conversion attempts at every turn. I’d get nice little notes in my staff mailbox with helpful Bible verses, or reminders that “God brought (me) here for a reason”. I used the time (the entire 10 weeks of my summer) to study these creatures called “Christians”.

And I’ve been around Christians my entire life. My family believes 100%, and many of my friends do as well (This isn’t, however, one of these “I’m not racist! Some of my friends are black!” kind of arguments. I’m just saying, I do have a little background on the faith). I had never thought very much about it, though. I just played along with the praying and singing, and never took the time to watch and learn.

Now, I’m not criticizing Christianity (wow, there’s a tongue-twister). I went to church with my family all the way through my 8th grade confirmation, and for that matter, they’re still making me go most every Sunday-I just refuse to participate in any way-before realizing that in my eyes, it’s all a load of BS. So I’m not trying to belittle the faith or anything. Just trying to show you the views of an outsider, who used to be an insider, forced to pretend to be a part of the faith for 10 weeks straight. Because although I did inform most of the counselors of my beliefs, there was no reason to tell the kids my dirty little secret. How could I bring that one up? “Hey, welcome to camp, here’s your bed, have a fun week, I don’t believe in God, okay nice to meet ya!” Awkwardness all around. And trust me, that continued through the whole summer.

My first experience there was a bonfire. We had all gotten settled in to our respective bunks, and we needed a bonding fire before we could really work together. Okay, s’mores and warmth. I can totally handle that. But it turned out to be a confessional. And I don’t mean a real confessional, the sit-down-and-tell-me-your-deepest-secrets kind. But rather an impromptu pouring-out of issues and fears. And before I knew it, I was telling the dozen or so girls gathered around the flames that I’m a bona-fide atheist. They seemed…well, confused. And then I realized something. Christians don’t really know what it’s like on the other side. That’s when yet another nail was hammered into my coffin of religion. Because when I went to church for those 14 years, I was constantly second-guessing my beliefs. I didn’t really trust myself to be a Lutheran, in a way. And when the rest of the camp staff was constantly questioning my non-belief, I realized that I am definitely not made to be a believer.

They would casually come up to me during the day, especially that first week of getting to know each other, and they would start a polite conversation. Nothing important to say, nope, just shootin’ the breeze. And by the way, how the hell do you not believe in my God? Okay, so maybe they didn’t quite phrase it that abruptly. But you could hear it in their voices. It wasn’t just a simple question. I knew my answer would be carefully picked apart and analyzed until they found a small percentage of a morsel of a bit of a chance that I was open to conversion yet. And then they used that slight vulnerability to try and save me from the Dark Side.

Right away, I realized I would have to control my language quite a bit. I’m not the type to swear horribly, or even very much at all. But when I need to, I’ll let a little profanity slip. No big deal around my friends at school. But around some of the big deal Christians? Very big deal. True, some of them weren’t so bad. But others were downright confusing. You couldn’t do or say anything to them that could be classified as derogatory to anyone. And at first, I couldn’t tell who these people were, so I was extra careful to censor myself around everyone. But I figured it out after a few weeks. Then I just had to remember when to use control and when to just let the insults fly. Plus, the phrase “Oh, my God!” doesn’t really go over well. And it took all of my restraint not to swap it for “Oh, your God!” Something tells me that one wouldn’t be very popular either. Oh, and “holy crap”? Totally out. Violating both imaginary rules may have gotten me in a little trouble.

I did see some interesting things, though. I noticed a certain classification in the Christians. Some were, as I’ve mentioned before, the complete, Bible-thumping, accept-my-savior-or-burn-in-Hell type of Christians. These both amused and baffled me. On the one hand, they preached tolerance and love for all God’s creatures. And on the other hand, they would routinely dish on the counselors that were less devout than themselves. I heard one of these conversations at the beginning of the summer. One of the guys talked about how he sometimes questioned his faith a little, although he still felt he was a true Christian, and he didn’t always agree with the structure of the church. Well, the girls I overheard didn’t like his attitude. They were bashing him for not believing enough, not being a good enough Christian. It was all I could do not to laugh. Yes, we’re all loving people. Come in to the church and be welcomed no matter what. But, wait, you occasionally think for yourself and doubt the existence of our Lord? Screw you, buddy, you’re outta here. Ok, I can see that last part may be a little offensive. But once again, this is merely what I observed and my thoughts on said observations. If it offends you, stop reading immediately.

The guy in question is another type of Christian. They don’t conform to every single aspect of the religion. Rather, they use their own discretion. Now, if I was a Christian, I think this is the type I would be. They believe, but they don’t force others to do so. I’m not just singing the praises of this classification over another, by the way. I just identified with them quite a bit. They were far enough from the center of the faith to still see a little bit of my perspective, yet they believed while I didn’t. And this intrigued me. Plus, they didn’t try to convert me at all. They talked to me about Christianity, and offered their side of the story. So, naturally, I liked them. This type was the group I talked to the most. And the counselor in question happened to be one of the sweetest, nicest, best guys to talk to in the whole camp. We became pretty good friends over those 10 weeks.

And there were those in the middle, of course. I just really can’t figure out where to put them. They were the happy medium. Content with their beliefs, but not rabid about them. I liked these counselors as well. Plus, they were the most amused by me. They didn’t judge me as much as the extreme Christians, yet they were curious about me because they were fairly strong participants in the religion.