
Notre Dame Basilica, Montreal, 2008
Like many (if not most) atheists, I was raised Christian and lost my faith gradually over many years. From the time I was a preschooler, my faith was threatened by my curiosity. Many factors influenced my ultimate transformation: the numerous inconsistencies in doctrine, knowledge of the history of Christianity, a decent understanding of science. Add to that the obscene prosperity of evil versus the grinding misfortunes of the innocent and the absence of modern-day miracles (the loaves-and-fishes variety, not just someone’s cancer mysteriously going into remission).

Blaise Pascal
I’m almost ashamed to admit that, for at least a decade, I continued to “believe” only out of fear of what might happen if I didn’t. Silly as that was, I learned that, in so hedging my bets, I was in august company.
Finally, though, I faced facts. Pretend as I might, I couldn’t hide my lack of faith from an omniscient god. If he existed, he already knew I didn’t believe in him. No matter how I protested, he would consign me to hellfire anyway. So I embraced my doubts, stopped mentally torturing myself, and began exploring other philosophies. Long story short, I quietly acknowledged my atheism about 10 years ago, in my early thirties.
It was after this ultimate break with religion that my eyes opened to the most compelling reasons not to believe. While my mind was shackled by faith — even the mere attempt to hold onto faith — I couldn’t see the things that make a god not only unnecessary for, but a barrier to, a life well-led.
What really makes a god at best superfluous are the wonders that surround us — both the things we create and the things that this wondrous, perfect mix of atoms we call earth presents to us unbidden.

Muir Woods, 2008
Which inspires more awe: That a magnificent stallion, a majestic, old-growth forest, or a crystal-clear, blue-white diamond was simply plopped down before us by some far-off, inscrutable being whose prejudices and temperament are suspiciously similar to our own, or that those things emerged over millions of years through natural, knowable processes that required no divine intervention?
What makes a god potentially harmful is the irrational demands he places on one’s conscience and morality.
Which is more comforting: Believing you must carefully choose whom to befriend based on whether they value — and abhor — all the same things you do, or being free to associate with anyone who is kind or funny or helpful, without having to judge them or feeling obligated to convert them to your personal code of behavior?
Which wastes more energy: Continual mental grappling with latest evidence debunking religion, or accepting the world as it is?
Which offers more validation: Thinking you must rely on the aforementioned inscrutable being for your complete set of moral values and ethics, even when it tells you to shun people who aren’t hurting anyone, or knowing that the elegant logic of the Golden Rule — which is demonstrable in evolutionary psychology — is all anyone really needs?
Which is more emotionally satisfying: Believing that, when family and friends love you and look after you, it’s really just a god working through them as if they were marionettes, or that they do these things because hundreds of millennia of evolution have endowed the human brain with an innate sense of empathy toward others?
Living in the Deep South, on the buckle of the Bible Belt, I frequently suffer the sting of isolation. I understand a little of what a closeted homosexual must feel: Most of the people who populate my day-t0-day life would be horrified to know I’m not guided by the same values they believe to be immutable and essential — that my absence of belief is just as strong as their belief.
But I find solace in the knowledge that I see the world with greater clarity. I suffer from fewer irrational fears. I didn’t just accept a certain philosophy of life because my parents told me to, but rather put much thought and effort into a rational examination of the world and my own mind. And I know that letting go of an enormous source of emotional stress hasn’t made me one iota less moral.