A Better Relationship With Jesus Christ Through Atheism
In my discussions with Christians, I’m often told that I need to reach out to Jesus and build a relationship with him. As a former Christian, I understand the intent of such comments better than they typically expect. And recently, it occurred to me that my relationship with Jesus Christ as an atheist is better than it ever was as a Christian. Crazy, right? I can explain.
Recognizing Jesus for Who He Is
When I was Christian, Jesus was a friend and a confidant. Someone I could ask for advice and difficult matters. Someone I can seek guidance from when I felt discouraged. Someone I can trust to have my best interest at heart and ensure my long-term success.
As I grew up, I gradually came to realize that the advice Jesus gave me was only ever consistent with my own values, purpose, meeting, etc. With every other relationship in my life, I had disagreements and arguments. Never with Jesus.
Something about that uncanny level of agreement struck me as odd. Wasn’t he supposed to be a moral guide? Could it really be true that I’ve never been mistaken such that he’d correct me? Sure, my friend Jesus would tell me when I made mistakes, but they were mistakes I already knew I had made. Jesus never give me insight into other people's thoughts or future actions. Gradually, I came to realize that I had no clear way to tell if the voice in my prayers was and omniscient deity or simply my own imagined conversational partner.
As I came to realize the limitations of my conversational partner in prayer, I struggled to consider possible explanations for the strange things I had noticed. How could God be omniscient, yet so constrained in my prayers?
There was one explanation which I was afraid to consider. Terrified. It would destroy the foundation of my universe and I would have to rebuild from scratch. Worse yet, considering this explanation could put my soul in eternal peril of suffering. But Jesus promised. He told me that a loving God would NEVER punish a person for honestly asking questions or expressing doubts. Jesus promised that there was strength in asking the hard questions and facing reality openly and honestly. Jesus Christ encouraged me to ask the simple, terrifying question that forever changed the nature of my relationship with Him:
What if all this time I believed I was praying, I was actually just imaging a conversation in my own head?
I still remember the moment I first had the courage to think that thought in my head. I was as the back entrance of my church above the stairway to Calvin Hall and below the stairs to the music wing.
My conclusion wasn’t immediate. I carried that doubt around with me for many years as I attended weekly youth group, completed confirmation class, and joined First Presbyterian Church as a full member. The hard questions were something I learned not to share with other adults, as some of them would insult my integrity when they found out. My parents knew my doubts, though I learned to keep the extent of my position to myself as those conversations became increasingly uncomfortable with time.
As time went on, it became increasingly clear that the most likely explanation for prayer was not the invisible omniscient deity I had been taught to believe as a child. It was my own imagined conversation with an archetype I had learned to project my values and hopes onto. Jesus was my own idealized “good guy friend.” I spoke with Jesus in the very same way that I imagined a conversation with my mom, dad, brother, or sister. he fact that Jesus seems unable to affect objective reality is so much more consistent with him being imagined than with him being an actual god. How could I ever have thought otherwise?!
At first, I was embarrassed to continue praying. “Why the hell would I talk to myself?! That’s crazy.” But as time has passed, I have come to realize that I carry on mental dialogues all the time. With friends, colleagues, bosses, my wife, my kids. These dialogs help me mentally prepare for important conversations. They help me broaden my perspective on challenging issues (e.g. What would my friend Seth think about this business opportunity?).
Now that I understand that Jesus was just my own imagination, I have far more reasonable expectations for the advice he can provide me. When I pause to reflect on values our purpose in life, I know the voice in my head is my own. I don’t expect it to solve problems for me or to provide me insight I wouldn’t otherwise have. It’s not magic. It’s me. And this understanding has improved my relationship with Jesus Christ (as played by my imagination) dramatically.
Jesus Christ is Not Alone
In my life, there are different people I approach with different problems. And there’s no reason my own internal dialogue should be any different. As a Christian, I came to depend on prayer and my relationship with Jesus for all the challenges in my life. Now that I understand that the Jesus I conversed with was merely my own representation, I’m free to turn to other mental characters to help sort through an issue. I can summon mental representations real friends and colleagues or fictional characters of my choosing.
When struggling with a business decision, for example, the Jesus archetype may not be my best thought partner. I can imagine a conversation with one of my former managers or corporate Vice Presidents. The advice is my own, of course, but the meditation exercise gets a part of my brain thinking from a different perspective. Considering the way I expect them to think and it improves my own diversity of thought.
There’s legitimate value to engaging in mental dialogue, and there’s no shame (so long as you can remember not to speak the conversation out loud — that’s CRAZY). Recognizing your internal dialog for what it is makes it more valuable. Learning that Jesus is not alone allowed me to broaden the set of diverse perspectives I can easily summon.
Ditch the Formalities
When you believe you’re speaking to the Almighty Creator of the universe which holds your eternal destiny in its hands, there’s a certain level of formality you feel compelled to obey. Recognizing that it’s just your own consciousness means you can simply ask a question and engage in a conversation without groveling or begging. No need to worry about your “eternal soul.” That sure takes a load of anxiety off my mind, improving my relationship with Jesus now that I’m atheist.
To Conclude
It’s hard to convey to a believer how I came to stop believing Jesus is a god. In short, I was mistaken about the nature of the voice that answered my prayers. But that doesn’t take away the value the voice can have in helping to guide my life.
To those Christians tempted to say, “See! You still hear the voice of God in your prayers,” I’d like to remind you that the voice helped me know that it is not a god, so … good luck reconciling that.
Life is better on the outside of religion. In all ways. Even my “personal relationship with Jesus Christ” is clearer and more valuable as a non-believer.
