March 21, 1998
Hey Tom:
How are things going? Are you still enjoying that psychology graduate program you're in? When do I get to call you Dr. Crhistiansen? You know, your name is sort of ironic. I bet your future students won't be expecting a specialist in the deceptive effects of religion with a name like Christiansen. You could have some good laughs with that one.
Things here are interesting, which is why I'm writing. Some days life just doesn't make sense. Do you know what I mean? Today was definitely one where that was true. Something happened to almost everyone I care about today. They say that it was God, but, being a reasonably intelligent person, I know better. It's a scientific fact that even if there is a god (which I doubt), it is not necessary for existence. It's sort of sad that both my sister and my best friend are so easily fooled.
Let me begin with a little bit of background. My sister, Heather, and my best friend, Joan, are also close friends with each other. They were classmates since 2nd grade. In fact, Heather and Joan were friends with each other long before Joan and I ever met. I met Joan when I as 15 (what they are doing taking physics in the seventh grade, I have no idea). I owed my sister for not telling on me when I snuck out with the car, so I reluctantly agreed to tutor Joan. Even back then I was fairly competent in science, so I was more than capable of doing the tutoring. I was just not looking forward to tutoring one of my sister's little friends.
Much to my surprise, that one tutoring session led to a friendship that has continued to this day, almost nine years. Now I know what you are thinking, and It's not what you're thinking. There is not now nor has there ever been an romantic attraction. Fifteen year-old guys don't fall for thirteen year-old girls (or if they do, there is something seriously wrong with them). A few months ago Joan did admit to having some crush on me in the beginning, but that disappeared as soon as she got to know me well (the story of my life). She hid the interest well enough, though, that I didn't notice at the time. Looking back, I am very glad that I didn't notice because it would have taken away a wonderful friendship I cherish today. I cherish this friendship even though she does act a little strange at times, like today.
I still can't say that I'm exactly sure how this whole "God changed our lives" thing came about. Heather and Joan had been going to church together for the past several weeks. I was sort of a sociology project for them (or so they said). They wanted to observe why this irrational God talk had such an impact on people.
As the weeks progressed, these two dear people in my life became more and more fascinated by the people at this church. Every week they came back from church seemingly talking about different people. If their descriptions are to be believed, there was everything from young couples to old widows and high school drop-outs to college professors. Personally, I have to wonder what kind of college professors one could find at a church. They probably teach physical education. They definitely don't teach science.
Anyway, after the service last Sunday, one of the ladies at the church invited Heather and Joan to a women's "Bible Breakfast". I guess this is some sort of thing where they use a Bible study as an excuse to eat a lot of food and gossip. Joan and Heather were naive enough to accept. I thought they were insane when I found out. My exact words were, "Umm...excuse me. You're doing what? Doesn't this go a bit beyond a sociological experiment?"
The girls didn't respond well to this gentle criticism. They started raving about a wide range of things. The rambling drifted from how nice the people were, to they're really not as stupid as I thought they were, to their belief that this really would be a wonderful sociological experience. Basically, they were throwing out pathetic excuses.
In spite of my eloquent and logical arguments, they went to the Bible breakfast. To be honest, I was curious about what would happen. I was waiting for them when they returned (trying to look as if I wasn't). They came in two hours late. I was getting worried that something had happened to them. In fact, if they were another ten minutes late, I was ready to drive to the church and find them.
When they finally walked through the door, I was barely able to pretend I was reading nonchalantly. I was debating how to begin the conversation, but there was no need. They began talking excitedly as soon as they saw me, which was immediately after they walked in the door.
Most of what they said made little or no sense to me. Joan said something about being a new person through a new birth(?) and Heather, who has always been sort of excitable, just kept jabbering about how great it was to finally know what life was about.
Tom, could you help me out here? Could you tell me how I can get through to them? I care about them too much to let them be deceived by psychological manipulation. Even if you could explain the manipulation to me, I would really appreciate it. Thanks a lot.
* * *
September 21, 1998
Hello Tom,
Obviously I didn't get this sent when I intended. I just re-discovered it, having forgotten about it completely these past six months. In a way, I am very glad. To be honest, I am not certain as to whether I should send this at all now. Everything has changed.
For days after the prayer breakfast (what I had called the Bible Breakfast before) I pestered Heather and Joan to give me a rational explanation of what they had experienced. Although looking back, their answers make perfect sense. I didn't believe they were giving me answers at all at the time.
Life continued to progress like normal, except that it wasn't normal. I was the same as always, but the girls were both very different. As much as I tried to deny it, the fact was that they had changed for real. Everyone noticed it. I suppose that I noticed it even more than the others. It frightened me more than anything else. The two people I cared about more than anyone in the world were changing more and more by the day, and I sometimes felt like they were leaving me behind.
The weeks wore on with the transformation in the girls continuing. My parents were so curious that they started going to church as well. Before I knew what was happening, they became Christians too.
This only confused me more. I knew that my sister could be prone to emotional manipulation, but I couldn't believe that my parents were. I had learned my objectivity and rational thinking from them. I couldn't imagine life becoming worse. Now everyone I cared about had lost their minds.
Life did become worse. This is an understatement, but I am not certain of how to transfer my feelings to paper. Joan died. It was a hit-and-run with no witnesses. At this point, my whole being went numb. I didn't know how to grieve, or even if there was any point to grieving.
The emotion I remember feeling most distinctly was anger. I couldn't tell you at the time what exactly I was angry at. I tried to convince myself that I was angry with the driver, even going so far as to harassing the police about not catching the guy. I was ready to go on a personal manhunt. Looking back, I can't help but think this was an attempt at self-deception.
When it came time for the funeral, I absolutely refused to go. My parents and Heather pleaded me to go with them, but I believed it would be far better for me to harbor up my anger and direct all my passions towards justice against Joan's killer.
Eventually my family gave up on taking me with them, probably from sheer exhaustion, and went to the service without me. I left the house, intending to scour the neighborhood where Joan was slaughtered for clues or witnesses, but found myself instead at the burial service.
At first I stayed hidden from view, just watching and listening. I suppose that it was the normal Christian service. I was surprised how many people were there who I didn't know. I stood there and listened to the words of the minister. Although I thought I was listening intently, I didn't grasp most of what he said.
Finally one statement passed my ears which I fully comprehended. He said, "Although we cannot understand why God would take such a beautiful person from us, we must know that there was a purpose. Everything God does is for a purpose, and we must accept that what has happened is for a greater good."
No sooner did these words leave the minister's mouth, then I exploded. I emerged from the bushes, screaming through the tears which flowed down my face, "Don't you people understand? Are all of you really that stupid? This God of yours, He didn't do it for some greater good. He did it to be vindictive! He did it to get back at me for mocking Him all these years! He is not a good God. He is a self-absorbed, power-hungry thing who has no greater joy in His miserable existence than to play games with us weak humans. Don't you understand that we are nothing more than toys to this monster? That's why Joan is gone. He took her away to toy with us! That is the god you pray to. That is the god you think you serve. He is not good! He is nothing more than spoiled child who uses us as toys. All this because He thinks He is more powerful than we are. Well, you are all my witnesses today that I am declaring my independence from your pathetic God. I don't care what He tries to do to me, I am no longer His play-thing!"
It was at this moment I realized that I wasn't really an atheist, and that I never had been. This realization calmed me enough for me father and a couple of other men to escort me away from the service.
After my father took me home, I was in sort of a daze. I stayed like that for about a week. Fortunately, all this happened during the summer so I didn't miss any classes.
There I go worrying about classes again when there are things far more important in life. Why do I do that? I guess I just haven't given up my academic mentality yet.
Anyway, I guess that I wasn't really in a daze. It was more like being entranced in deep thought. Not only did I have to deal with the loss of my best friend, but I had to consider who this God was that I now believed existed. In a way these two trains of thought converged. Somehow I knew that my view on the nature of God would be determined by the meaning I gave to Joan's death. If her death had real meaning, then this God could still be good. I needed to know if there was any purpose in her death.
Eventually I came out of my trance-like state. This did not meant that my search was over, though. I was determined to have an answer before classes started again in the fall. Looking back, I'm disgusted that I set this deadline, but that is what I did.
I won't go into detail about this whole process, mostly because there is far too much. I delved into all the information I could find outside of Christianity. I avoided Christianity because I thought I knew how biased it would be. By mid-August I was about ready to give up and just say that I was right at the burial service. None of the systems I studied made any sense at all. The most plausible was that Joan's body had to die so that it could decompose in order to bring forth new life. This was far from satisfactory to me.
One morning I was so agitated that I went for a walk. This was very unusual for me because I never go on walks. As I was walking down a little neighborhood road with houses along each side, I saw a little girl riding towards me on her bicycle. For some reason, she looked familiar. As she came nearer, I knew why. She was at the funeral.
Before I could figure out a way to avoid her, she recognized me and rode over. "Hey, aren't you Joan's friend? You were that strange guy at the funeral. I remember you."
Without giving me a chance to respond, she continued, "My family has been praying for you for a long time. Joan asked me to pray for you before I even knew what you looked like."
This statement struck me. She stopped talking, but I wasn't sure how to respond. Why would Joan ask this little girl to pray for me? How could...
I could feel the little girl's eyes piercing through my thoughts. "Well?" she asked expectantly.
"Well what?" I responded, somewhat confused.
"Well, are you a Christian yet or not?
The sheer boldness of this question stunned me. Somehow this child, in her matter-of-fact tone and expressive voice, reached down and touched the inner-most part of my being.
"No," I stammered. "I am not a Christian yet." The "yet" that escaped my lips surprised me.
"Why not?" she asked.
"It's...it's difficult to explain. I have to go now." Immediately I started running away from the girl.
She called out to me, "I'll keep praying for you." These words hurt, but I didn't understand why. I was just confused.
In my confusion I ran. I didn't know where I was going. I just ran until my side throbbed with pain. Finally I stopped, out of sheer exhaustion more than anything else. To my surprise I found myself in front of the church where my family attended.
The next thing I knew, I was inside and knocking at the door to the pastor's office. The fact that I was doing this made me even more confused than I was before. My actions made absolutely no sense to me, but somehow that didn't matter.
When I heard the pastor's voice call out, "Come in, it's open," I froze. I couldn't move. My brain told me to go in, but my body wouldn't. After what felt like an hour, the pastor came and opened the door.
Pastor Robertson looked as surprised to see me there as I was to be there myself. After the initial shock, he recovered and invited me in. "You're Heather's brother, aren't you?"
"Yes."
"Well...umm...what can I do for you today?"
"To be honest, sir, I don't really know."
By this time the minister had fully regained his composure. "Young man, I think I do know why you are here."
For the next three hours we talked. We talked about Joan's death. We talked about the nature of God. We talked about the real meaning of life. After three short hours I understood everything. This may seem unbelievable to you, Tom but it's true.
Although Pastor Robertson never said it directly, I now know the purpose of Joan's death. It was for me. I can just picture her looking down from heaven with a huge smile across her face, knowing that she will see me again. If she hadn't died, I know that I would have gone on my merry way as little atheist boy. Somehow that little girl on the bicycle knew more than I did in my supposed enlightened maturity.
I have been a Christian for a month now, and I can feel myself growing more and more into being a true man. It isn't some physical manifestation, or reaching a certain age. It is a desire to grow to be more like the One who created me. You know how little boys try to be like their fathers? Well, now I am a little boy, trying to be more like my Father, who is the perfect role model. I think this is what the Bible means when it talks about being born again. It is a brand new growing process.
Tom, the last time I saw you, you were as convinced of a atheist as I was. I pray that this is no longer true. This letter began as a request for you to explain away the Christian experience for me. It ends with an appeal for you to experience it yourself. You may still believe that what I am expressing is nothing more than adherence to incompatible beliefs with an emotional phenomenon thrown in, but I can only tell you that that isn't true. From my new perspective, all the doctrines make sense. Even the trinity is coherent and necessary for a correct understanding of life. I pray that you can somehow see this. I pray that you can somehow experience the joy that I now know. There is nothing more that I can say.
Being held tight in His loving arms,
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