All the Things I’d Like to Tell My Parents
Dear Mom and Dad,
I want to tell you more about what I think and why I’ve changed my mind on so many things—I want to tell you because of course, just like anyone, I like to feel understood, and I’d like there to be more of an understanding between us so we can be closer as a family as well. I don’t like that nowadays I avoid talking with you about a lot of the things that are most important to me and do little more than nod and smile when you bring up the things that are most important to you.
The reason I haven’t talked to you about any of this more extensively than by sending you that one brief text message, just detailed enough to say that I had changed my mind about religious things and didn’t want you to worry about me, is that I’m afraid that having to think about any of this makes you sad, and it’s been easier to let everyone act like nothing has really changed than to make you think about the specifics of things that make you sad.
Most importantly, I don’t want you to think I’m going to hell, but I don’t see how your beliefs allow for any other conclusion. Of course I’ll be elated if I find out that you actually believe something much different from what you used to, but unfortunately I can’t pretend that that’s likely since you’ve always expressed agreement with what your church says on the subject and it doesn’t seem like anything has changed. I know that when I was convinced that God was real and Christianity was the way to be right with him, I worried and felt sad for family members of ours who didn’t claim Jesus as their lord. I didn’t want to believe that their good, well-intentioned lives were destined to end in eternal suffering, but I didn’t see any way around that conclusion.
The last thing I want is for you to feel like you’ve lost a child spiritually, and for that reason I almost want to try to convince you to see the deep flaws in Christian beliefs that I’ve found over the years. If you see that Christian claims are untrue, you’ll be able to feel happy about where I’m at. You can rightfully be proud that you raised someone who wanted to find the truth and has never stopped looking for it. But I’m so afraid that you’ll lose more than you’ll gain, and that’s why I still haven’t spoken up. I’m afraid that if you come to question your Christian beliefs you’ll lose something that has given you joy, structure, and purpose in life. I’m afraid that you’ll regret the choices you’ve made over the years. But I don’t want you to regret them! I know that you’ve always made choices with my best interest at heart. Everything you’ve done and everything you’ve taught me was guided by your sincere beliefs about what was best for me, so how could you have chosen any differently than you did?
I’m glad that you raised me the way you did even though I no longer agree with the ideas behind it. I’m glad that I grew up in a strongly Christian environment even though I no longer agree with Christian beliefs because if it wasn’t for this background I might never have thought deeply about theology and philosophy and why the world works the way it does; I might not know what I believe so strongly right now if it wasn’t for all the experiences I’ve had thanks to you. I wouldn’t want you to regret any of that for a second.
And I wouldn’t want you to feel bad for any of the unhappiness I went through searching for God and eventually ending up where I am now. For one thing, I hope you can see how happy I am now, and I want you to know that ever since I reached a place of certainty about my convictions I’ve felt so good about life that it’s almost like the bad times never happened. I hardly think of them as more than a dream; what I remember from all the preceding years are the good times with family and friends and all the places I’ve been and the fun of discovering new experiences. You’re part of all that, and I want us to keep making good memories together, hopefully from a place where we can be more open with each other.
If I felt certain that you would be happy without the beliefs you have now, I would already be trying to convince you to change your mind about religion. But I’m afraid that it’s too important to you. I’m afraid that I’ll ruin your lives if I convince you to see things the way I do because you’ve invested so much in your faith and seem to take joy and inspiration from it more than I was ever able to.
So for now my fear of taking something precious from you is winning out, but I wish there was a way I could avoid hurting you and still make you see that you don’t have anything to worry about when it comes to me. And there are so many other things I wish you could see too.
For one, I don’t want you to think that I’m an enemy combatant now. You know that I’ve always like to write and that I want people to have good lives and know the truth about foundational things. Well, since I’ve come to the conclusion I have about Christianity, I’ve written a lot about that conclusion. I’ve written out detailed explanations of all the reasons I know Christianity isn’t an accurate view of the world because I think people deserve to know. I think people who are in the same position I was will have better lives knowing these things, so I have to tell them. I’m afraid that from your perspective now you’ll be ashamed to have a daughter who is writing against the things you believe. To you it must look like I’m actively trying to make the world worse, and this is another reason why on one hand I want to convince you to see things as I see them, but still that fear that you’re already at a point where changing your mind will be too painful holds me back.
Another thing I don’t want you to think is that I’m just a wayward young person, just an insecure girl who would give up important beliefs in order to fit in with the values my peers accept. I know that you’re aware of how carefully I tend to think things over, but still, for as long as I can remember I’ve heard this message repeated over and over and over again—that everyone who doesn’t grow up to accept the values of their parents was drawn away from the truth by their desire to fit in or by some equally worthless motivation. I know you know me better than that (and that you also know my peers have always been Christians…I don’t have many friends right now although I’m working on it), but I’m afraid that you’ll write off the conclusions I agonized over and finally accepted because I couldn’t disprove their accuracy, as just the fickle allegiances of a kid who wants to be cool.
Maybe I’m underestimating you. Maybe I’m wrong to think you’re too set in your ways to be alright with major changes in your life. That certainly doesn’t sound like something you deserve to be labeled as. It’s just that there’s always a chance it could be true, and it’s extremely difficult for me to feel okay about risking the level of damage I fear would result if it was true. Maybe I’m wrong to think that you see me as an enemy or a lackey. I know you don’t want to see me that way. But I know this is how influential people around you are telling you to view anyone who has changed their mind in the way I have, precisely, I think, because these people are afraid of changing their minds and need to be able to explain away other people’s shifts in thinking as having been motivated by anything other than discovery of correct information. I know you value the truth, and so I have to think there’s hope for you to see through all of that.
I might be doing you a huge disservice by not simply speaking my mind honestly around you. Like I said, I know you value the truth, and it could be that your lives will improve from hearing what I have to say. I hope so. I know if we avoid this forever we’ll grow farther from each other, so chances are it will all come up eventually, and when that does happen, I hope the end of it all will be us saying wasn’t it silly that it ever seemed like such a big deal. I’ll have to tell myself that that’s the place we’ll come to eventually. But it is going to take time for me to warm up to talking instead of hiding.
I know that you’ll love me no matter what, and I hope you know I love you. I just need to convince myself of your strength. Until then, I remain affectionately and over-protectively,
Your Daughter
I want to tell you more about what I think and why I’ve changed my mind on so many things—I want to tell you because of course, just like anyone, I like to feel understood, and I’d like there to be more of an understanding between us so we can be closer as a family as well. I don’t like that nowadays I avoid talking with you about a lot of the things that are most important to me and do little more than nod and smile when you bring up the things that are most important to you.
The reason I haven’t talked to you about any of this more extensively than by sending you that one brief text message, just detailed enough to say that I had changed my mind about religious things and didn’t want you to worry about me, is that I’m afraid that having to think about any of this makes you sad, and it’s been easier to let everyone act like nothing has really changed than to make you think about the specifics of things that make you sad.
Most importantly, I don’t want you to think I’m going to hell, but I don’t see how your beliefs allow for any other conclusion. Of course I’ll be elated if I find out that you actually believe something much different from what you used to, but unfortunately I can’t pretend that that’s likely since you’ve always expressed agreement with what your church says on the subject and it doesn’t seem like anything has changed. I know that when I was convinced that God was real and Christianity was the way to be right with him, I worried and felt sad for family members of ours who didn’t claim Jesus as their lord. I didn’t want to believe that their good, well-intentioned lives were destined to end in eternal suffering, but I didn’t see any way around that conclusion.
The last thing I want is for you to feel like you’ve lost a child spiritually, and for that reason I almost want to try to convince you to see the deep flaws in Christian beliefs that I’ve found over the years. If you see that Christian claims are untrue, you’ll be able to feel happy about where I’m at. You can rightfully be proud that you raised someone who wanted to find the truth and has never stopped looking for it. But I’m so afraid that you’ll lose more than you’ll gain, and that’s why I still haven’t spoken up. I’m afraid that if you come to question your Christian beliefs you’ll lose something that has given you joy, structure, and purpose in life. I’m afraid that you’ll regret the choices you’ve made over the years. But I don’t want you to regret them! I know that you’ve always made choices with my best interest at heart. Everything you’ve done and everything you’ve taught me was guided by your sincere beliefs about what was best for me, so how could you have chosen any differently than you did?
I’m glad that you raised me the way you did even though I no longer agree with the ideas behind it. I’m glad that I grew up in a strongly Christian environment even though I no longer agree with Christian beliefs because if it wasn’t for this background I might never have thought deeply about theology and philosophy and why the world works the way it does; I might not know what I believe so strongly right now if it wasn’t for all the experiences I’ve had thanks to you. I wouldn’t want you to regret any of that for a second.
And I wouldn’t want you to feel bad for any of the unhappiness I went through searching for God and eventually ending up where I am now. For one thing, I hope you can see how happy I am now, and I want you to know that ever since I reached a place of certainty about my convictions I’ve felt so good about life that it’s almost like the bad times never happened. I hardly think of them as more than a dream; what I remember from all the preceding years are the good times with family and friends and all the places I’ve been and the fun of discovering new experiences. You’re part of all that, and I want us to keep making good memories together, hopefully from a place where we can be more open with each other.
If I felt certain that you would be happy without the beliefs you have now, I would already be trying to convince you to change your mind about religion. But I’m afraid that it’s too important to you. I’m afraid that I’ll ruin your lives if I convince you to see things the way I do because you’ve invested so much in your faith and seem to take joy and inspiration from it more than I was ever able to.
So for now my fear of taking something precious from you is winning out, but I wish there was a way I could avoid hurting you and still make you see that you don’t have anything to worry about when it comes to me. And there are so many other things I wish you could see too.
For one, I don’t want you to think that I’m an enemy combatant now. You know that I’ve always like to write and that I want people to have good lives and know the truth about foundational things. Well, since I’ve come to the conclusion I have about Christianity, I’ve written a lot about that conclusion. I’ve written out detailed explanations of all the reasons I know Christianity isn’t an accurate view of the world because I think people deserve to know. I think people who are in the same position I was will have better lives knowing these things, so I have to tell them. I’m afraid that from your perspective now you’ll be ashamed to have a daughter who is writing against the things you believe. To you it must look like I’m actively trying to make the world worse, and this is another reason why on one hand I want to convince you to see things as I see them, but still that fear that you’re already at a point where changing your mind will be too painful holds me back.
Another thing I don’t want you to think is that I’m just a wayward young person, just an insecure girl who would give up important beliefs in order to fit in with the values my peers accept. I know that you’re aware of how carefully I tend to think things over, but still, for as long as I can remember I’ve heard this message repeated over and over and over again—that everyone who doesn’t grow up to accept the values of their parents was drawn away from the truth by their desire to fit in or by some equally worthless motivation. I know you know me better than that (and that you also know my peers have always been Christians…I don’t have many friends right now although I’m working on it), but I’m afraid that you’ll write off the conclusions I agonized over and finally accepted because I couldn’t disprove their accuracy, as just the fickle allegiances of a kid who wants to be cool.
Maybe I’m underestimating you. Maybe I’m wrong to think you’re too set in your ways to be alright with major changes in your life. That certainly doesn’t sound like something you deserve to be labeled as. It’s just that there’s always a chance it could be true, and it’s extremely difficult for me to feel okay about risking the level of damage I fear would result if it was true. Maybe I’m wrong to think that you see me as an enemy or a lackey. I know you don’t want to see me that way. But I know this is how influential people around you are telling you to view anyone who has changed their mind in the way I have, precisely, I think, because these people are afraid of changing their minds and need to be able to explain away other people’s shifts in thinking as having been motivated by anything other than discovery of correct information. I know you value the truth, and so I have to think there’s hope for you to see through all of that.
I might be doing you a huge disservice by not simply speaking my mind honestly around you. Like I said, I know you value the truth, and it could be that your lives will improve from hearing what I have to say. I hope so. I know if we avoid this forever we’ll grow farther from each other, so chances are it will all come up eventually, and when that does happen, I hope the end of it all will be us saying wasn’t it silly that it ever seemed like such a big deal. I’ll have to tell myself that that’s the place we’ll come to eventually. But it is going to take time for me to warm up to talking instead of hiding.
I know that you’ll love me no matter what, and I hope you know I love you. I just need to convince myself of your strength. Until then, I remain affectionately and over-protectively,
Your Daughter
Comments
Post a Comment