Off a tip from snowqueen, I’ve been watching the Mr Deity videos on YouTube. Wickedly funny! I had no idea that God was like a Hollywood executive. But suddenly a lot of things make sense. ‘Mr Deity’ is occasionally scathing, as though written by someone who’s heard all the lame rationalisations for God’s inaction.

And so I wasn’t surprised to learn this from Mr Deity’s FAQ.

Brian, what is your stand on Religion?
I am a formerly religious person (non-bitter), and as such, have great sympathies for the beliefs and feelings of religious people.

The first and great commandment is: Thou shalt not be bitter.

But notice:

In future episodes, I intend to turn the tables a bit and poke fun at what I call the “angry atheists” (of whom I am not fond). We’ll see if they take it so well.

And the second is like unto it: Thou shalt not be angry.

I suspect that this is a stereotype we’re going to see for the next several decades: The Angry Atheist. Too bad it’s being promoted by a funny satirist like Mr Deity. It was pulled out by Fox News asshat John Kasich, who angrily asked a smiling Brian Flemming (of Blasphemy Challenge fame) why he was so angry. Are we going to have to walk around with big fake churchy smiles on our faces, just so we can debunk this meme?

But maybe this is a good chance to address the Anger Issue. Richard Dawkins was once mystified during a talk when someone asked him if he thought anger was a natural part of the deconversion process. He wasn’t sure, so he turned the question back on the audience, who responded resoundingly: Yes.

Yes, we are angry. I am angry. Why shouldn’t I be? I have wasted hours and years of my life on a flimsy set of ideas that claimed to be true. I’ve paid thousands of dollars to a religious organisation that promoted fiction. I knocked on doors for two years of my limited life in the hope of convincing someone of a set of absurdly stupid beliefs. I testified that these beliefs were true for the very worst reason: I had had a feeling that they were true.

While I’m thinking about it, allow me to take this opportunity to make an apology. People of Perth, Australia: I am sorry that I ever troubled you for one second about religion, the fictional plan of salvation, and made-up gods and scriptures. In a small way, it’s a comfort that so few of you believed me.

And yet, who am I angry at?

My parents? Not really; they were fooled too. They were just trying to do their best, and get me to heaven where we could live as a family forever, la lee la lee la.

Myself? I feel like I should have figured it out sooner. But I was given shitty tools to find truth. And it’s hard to overcome years of training, especially when you’ve received (as you suppose) a message from God confirming everything. And invested so much in it. So I guess I did figure it out eventually, when it was difficult. In a way, I’m actually sort of pleased with myself.

People who still believe? I confess to a flash of ire now and again that people can still be theists, but that’s because I sometimes forget what it was like, and how hard it was to change. When I remember that, I can forgive them for continuing.

I’ve heard that one of the important psychological jobs of adulthood is to be able to forgive your parents for their failings. I’ve seen twenty- and thirty-somethings that still burn with rage over things their parents did, and that’s not healthy. In like manner, it’s important to forgive your religion of origin (and the people therein) for promoting the God delusion.

Angry atheists: your anger is real and justified. Now sort it out, and be healthy. Fight theism with relentless cold reason.

I finally came out to my Mom and sister. As an atheist, that is. I’ve noticed that atheists use the term ‘come out’ like gay people do. The comparison is apt. In both cases, you’re confessing something shocking! secret! and socially undesirable. You know your family will be disappointed, and wonder what they could have done differently. And in both cases, there’s really very little you can do to change your orientation. You could fake it, of course, and some people do, but what a waste of your life.

Here’s what family members do when you tell them you don’t believe in God.

They are floored. Then they babble for a minute, asking questions like “Do you think we just evolved? Don’t you know that Satan is working through science? Dad would be rolling over in his grave!” and so on. You can tell they’re thinking, “If I can just say the right thing, then he’ll feel something, and believe again. Now’s my chance! What do I say?” Because of course, what really matters is whether you feel something’s true.

Then they relax a bit and start asking questions. I tried to listen, and answer gently, and be supportive.

“What about all those spiritual experiences on your mission?”
Hey, I’ve had lots of ‘spiritual experiences’, not just on the mission. But experiences are anecdotal, and good data isn’t. A feeling means you had a feeling, not that some spiritual being exists.

“You know, Satan is really working hard, trying to lead people astray.”
What’s that you say? I’m in the grip of an invisible spirit being that may not exist! Oh noes!!!!!!111111!!!!!1one!1 Okay, I admit it was hard to respond to meathead comments like this one gently.

“Are you going to try and lead others away from the Church?”
This was particularly galling. If you believe in all that, you’re meant to shout it from the housetops, but if you believe the opposite, suddenly you’re just supposed to shut the fuck up. Well, a lifetime of evangelism has had its effect, and yes, I will continue to influence people to understand about good evidence, and I will teach critical thinking in my classes, and I’ll be right here on the blog, telling it like it appears to be.

“Well, at least you’re not going to become an atheist, are you?”
I am not kidding, Mom said this. “Well, Mom,” said I, “if you don’t believe in God, an atheist is what you are.” Oh.

The most telling thing was something that both Sis and Mom said. Sis said, “Well, then, what’s the point in all this? Why do you think we go through all this horrible stuff in life?”

I was surprised. “Is life horrible?” I asked.

“Yeah, it really is,” she said. “If I didn’t think I was going on to something better, I don’t know how I’d get through it.”

Atheists are sometimes criticised for saying that there’s no point in life, something I have never heard a real atheist say. It’s true that what we do as individuals really matters very little on the cosmic scale. But my life has a point for me because I give it a point. The only people I hear saying that life on earth isn’t very important is Christians. And, given their assumptions, it makes sense. Compared to eternity, life is just a jot. So why would it matter as long as you get to heaven? Fortunately, most believers act as though they don’t actually believe this, otherwise there’d be an awful mess, no one painting their houses, people plundering the earth’s resources, blowing themselves up for their religion — oh, wait.

Mom said much the same thing. “If I didn’t think Dad was up there waiting for me, I just couldn’t go on.”

And that’s when I thought maybe I was wasting my time saying anything. It’s not like she’s going to change. Some paradigm shifts can drive people insane. And when your worldview or your self-image depends on not understanding, you will not understand. It really gave me an insight into the desperation about life that religious people feel. But it’s not just desperation. It’s hatred. I remembered all those lessons in church about staying unspotted from the World. Don’t get any of the World on you. Hymns describing the earth as a ‘vail of tears’. That’s the view of someone who doesn’t really like life.

Finally Mom said, “Well, the important thing is that you’re a Good Person. And I know you are because of the way you take care of those boys, and the way you live your life.” It seemed important to Mom that I was still a Good Person. I guess I always had the same misconception as she did; that people who break from the Church turn into drug-taking Satanists. But she realised that I had an internalised moral code. So, good for Mom.

I finished my calls with each of them. If I’d called either of them right after that, I’m sure both of their phones would have been busy. And now my open secret’s out. It feels good.