Sense of Community

Lately, I'm noticing a lot of former believers discussing the hardest part of their deconversion experience being the loss of community. I guess I am a little different in that regard.

First of all, I never felt at home in the church setting. My palms would sweat the minute I walked through the doors because I knew it meant having to greet all the adults and mingle for a bit before Sunday school started. I felt a little more at ease in my Sunday school class because I had a couple of close friends there, but I was by no means comfortable. Aside from a couple of close friends, no one really knew me. Granted, I didn't know myself either at the time - but I was, of course, unaware of that. All I knew was that I was restless and reserved.

Church was certainly not to blame for my anxiety. It was my personality and it affected all social settings, including school, weddings, parties, etc. For me, there was never anything fulfilling about traditional weddings, for example. They were chock full of things I had no interest in, such as mingling, dancing, fancy dresses, itchy panty hose, and the ritualistic aspects which often felt forced. I guess I was a strange little girl, never having once fantasized about my wedding day. In fact, when ever the thought did occur, I would dread it. I was more about the idea of true love which is supposed to inspire the wedding. I dreamed about what it would be like to find a life partner. As I got a little older, I imagined what sex would be like. The actual wedding, though, had no appeal whatsoever. Even today, the only thing I can enjoy about one is the booze (if available).

This uneasiness associated with social situations and formality even affected the activities I did enjoy, such as youth activities and missions trips. Less so, because the setting in these instances tended to be a bit more laid back and genuine, but there were moments of discomfort in these environments as well. For example, when it became time to share what was on our hearts. The spirit was supposed to be present and moving within us and the pressure to report such feelings while coming up dry was often too much to bare.

My relationship with Jesus was real but my personality did not allow for expression of that in the publicly passionate versions which often surrounded me. Of course, I didn't know that at the time. I assumed this lack of an urge to sway, cry, and hug everyone due to the power of God's love was just another indication of my sinful nature, leaving me to feel guilty and out of place. Looking back, I see that I expressed my feelings for the idea of God's love in the form of art, music, and prayer; all of which were things I did while alone. My private time was an opportunity for me to recharge. It was my relief, my time to think and reflect; In short, it was my happy place. According to psychology, this is because I lean toward introversion. Again, I didn't know any better at the time.

Anyone who knew me well as a young child could tell you that I was by no means anti-social, however. I loved to communicate with others; just not with anyone and everyone. Also, I needed some time to warm up to people. I had a warm relationship with my father, for instance, and some of his fondest memories with me (of which he reminds me whenever we are together) are the instances where I let my feisty side shine. My mother always colored this personality trait with a negative brush, calling it rebellion thus one of her nicknames for me, snippy. My father, on the other hand, encouraged this kind of behavior; not blatantly but with his positive reactions. He sent the psychological message that it was good for me to be tough and to stand up for what I think. "My Bee tells it like it is!" I can recall him saying many times. It made him happy when I was strong and vibrant.

It is pretty obvious that my father respects strong, opinionated women; my mother is certainly evidence of that. Unfortunately, being a conservative Christian, this often leads to a respect of those strong and opinionated about the silliest of things. Even dangerous, at times. I think I got the more introverted aspects of my personality from my father, who is much more reserved than I. Having sparks here and there of my mother's competitive nature, I think my father took particular notice and especially encouraged those traits. Sadly, my mother's stronger and more intimidating personality overwhelmed my father's subtle encouragement. I think this had a lot to do with my nurturing my timid side, especially the older I became.

For me, leaving behind my church family behind was indefinitely a relief. Leaving some close friends from the church behind, while having many relieving aspects, was disheartening. The relief had more to do with my inability to open up completely from the beginning. I had messed up in that regard. I was too ashamed of my own nature to question why I had this inability when in reality, my best friends should have been the first with which I discussed this. I cared about my friends, encouraged them to be open with me and accepted them no matter what --- but I did not allow them that opportunity with me. I always kept so much to myself because I was terrified of being judged. Would they have judged me? I'm really not sure - but I should have given them the chance.

It was not until I left home in order to escape the oppression of fundamental Christianity that I came to know liberated, down to earth Christians. Finally, people who saw the same flaws I did with religion. They showed me that Christianity is not a religion, but a relationship with God. All of which I bonded with over the internet, which was an easier form of communication for me. It was the sense of community that I guess most Christians get at church. The only thing holding me back was lack of a home internet connection, being able to afford only the basics. By the time I was in a better place financially with computer of my own, I was beginning to see the flaws of even a personal relationship with God, minus the religious aspect often connected. Eventually, I began to lean closer and closer an agnostic approach.

Letting go of Jesus was the most difficult part of my deconversion experience. He was someone to whom I could relate even when most of the Christians in my family and church family were against me. The truth is, I didn't understand genuine friendship until moving out and starting a fresh life for myself; one that better suited my needs and desires. I became so fixated on Jesus, I think partly because I did not get the sense of community from religious Christians. Being exposed to relationship Christians on the internet gave me a small taste of what community was like.

Today, even though I am less socially anxious, I still use the internet as a main source of communication which in turn provides a strong sense of community. As it was hard to find relationship Christians offline in the past, it is even more difficult to find fellow atheists now. They are easy to find online, and so free to open up and express themselves, as am I. To me, the fact that these connections are not happening face to face has no bearing whatsoever on how genuine they can be. In fact, some of the online friends I have come to know are closer than family to me in the sense that they know and accept the core aspects of who I am where Christian family members cannot.

It would be an added bonus, however, to meet in person. That would be difficult to turn into reality, considering distance. I also entertain this idea of an online gathering for atheist friends. A web forum, perhaps.

I often hear of Christians claiming atheists needing to gather in this way, mimicking their version of fellowship, is evidence of a spiritual craving. Of course, that's bullshit. It may very well be a spiritual craving, but not in the sense they imagine. Humans want to interact with other humans. They want to be loved, accepted and to relate to one another. Our personality helps to determine how we go about this, but we are social creatures. There is no shame in atheists gathering. In fact, I think it's far better to bond and gather with those willing to adjust their views. They not only provide spiritual comfort but also stimulate the mind.

If ya don't stand for something ...

"If you don't stand for something, you'll fall for anything".

This quote has become such a bother. Though, the quote itself is not as bad as the implications can be. After all, it is good advice to stand up for what you believe in. However, that something shouldn't be just anything. What if that something you decide to stand for is really one of those anythings you should have avoided? Should you be justified in sticking to it, despite new information that suggests otherwise?

This is why the main thing I stand firmly for is critical thinking. I aim to apply it to every aspect of life because it's really the only thing I have against bullshit, other than maybe common sense for the easy stuff. I'm not quite sure who the original quoter was or what he/she intended, but I do know that it is only my Christian friends who pass along this little gem. The popular interpretation (at least among the Jesus-happy crowd) seems to be in favor of strong, Biblical beliefs and against free thinkers who are, to them, as ungrounded as they come (not to mention slaves of satan).

In reality, free-thinkers can be quite grounded. They are so in something much more useful than a belief system based on a holy book, supposedly written by a God that can't be proven to exist, but who expects his followers to follow blindly anyway. Why would you want to ground yourself in something that can't be proven and forbids you to doubt its contents, even when it directly counters new information? Doesn't that come off as shady? It certainly would in any other context. Wouldn't it be better to ground yourself in something that would always provide assistance in avoiding traps than something that keeps you too naive care and/or too guilt-ridden to explore the potential flaws?

It is true that if you always allow emotions to be the driving force in decision making, you will go wherever the wind takes you. Perhaps the quoter was thinking along those lines? Regardless, the brain is great for keeping the heart in check -- and even though Christianity loves to insert that the Bible keeps the heart in check, in reality, it is a horrible substitute. Let the heart enrich your life, but stand for the logic and reason in order to shed light on those detrimental anythings that so many passionately yet ignorantly stand for.

Life without God's Love is like a Donut

Apparently, our lives are like donuts and Jesus is like ... a munchkin? I've always loved munchkins! I'm kind of a bit of a health nut these days, but I remember as a child looking forward breakfast at church. Someone would always bring something good - sometimes it was coffee cake, other times, muffins. Most often, however, it would be a box of donuts, considering the local Dunkin Donuts happened to be right across the street. Munchkins were bought typically for the youngsters, but they were always my personal favorites.

I think munchkins are special because they are the shape of fun - sweet little balls of dough joy! The original donut is also fun in its own right, being round as well with a happy little hole in the center. What separates typical donuts from the kinds with cream or jelly filling and other pastries is the hole. That hole is what makes the donut awesome! The dough ball from which the hole was created would be no fun at all had it never been removed!

What I make of the donut/life analogy: if you want to have fun with life, remove Jesus and eat him separately. (^_-)

So, about the 'hole in the middle of our hearts' ...? I say, what of it? Jesus won't fill that hole unless you really want him to. For some people, art fills that hole. For others, music. There is always more than just one hole, too.

Christians, don't kid yourselves - filling it with the idea of supernatural love instead of that unsatisfying worldly stuff does not set you apart. It makes you the same as everyone else, only with the addition of an inflated ego to go along with your choice of filling. Not to mention the ultimate denial of that ego, as you hide behind the idea of a supernatural god, expressing your own fear and desire in the form of his love or judgement.

No matter what you fill your hole with, there will always be another. When you fill it with God, it just becomes natural to believe that future holes are simply 'moments of weakness'. You fill it with the same old stuff after each weak moment and it becomes a comfortable pattern for you.

It may feel nice to be comfy cozy, but you can't make a discovery unless you test your limits. For that, you must go out and explore. You may feel at times as though you are in fact exploring, but 'journeying' while locked inside the same frame of mind is kind of like painting the walls or rearranging the furniture. To journey, you must be willing to think outside the box your mind urges you to stay within.

There is always something new to learn about yourself within these holes and the possibilities are endless. Holes are naturally scary - we just can't stand the idea of not knowing what 's at that bottom. On some level, we'd all rather rely on a satisfying idea that has no evidence than go through life not knowing the answer or if we'll ever figure it out for sure. Where would we be as a whole if everyone gave into this fear? Isaac Newton, Einstein, Christoper Columbus (even if he was an asshole, he did question and crush a set belief) and even the evil Darwin?

It is only natural to be a little uncomfortable or even scared of these gaps in our understanding. It's a sad thing to let that fear rule your life and even sadder to try and push it onto others. To then view anyone for expressing a curiosity and willingness to face the world as inferior seems to be the next step, which is just backwards and quite simply, bullying. Why all of that? If you stick with the uncomfortable stuff and face the scary feelings, the journey can be fun and discoveries, deeply satisfying. No, it doesn't soothe your fear or your ego, but if you wait it out it can do so much more!

I don't know about you, but I am at peace with my holes - and that's without Jesus!

Jesus Loves Bukake!

I may have kicked Jesus out of my soul (Okay, maybe not kicked, exactly ... fear of change kept me pretty gentle and patient for that ordeal! ^_-) but the holy spirit can come on me any time he likes. Sadly, I doubt he ever will - I'm not exactly the type of gal he'd want to give a facial to. While I do have a submissive streak about me, it's not prominent enough to satisfy his bukake cravings. Nah, I think I'm more the type he likes to 'watch'!

In all seriousness (sort of), even back when Jesus was my personal soul-dweller, I never felt his power deep within. I had faith that it was pure truth even when some things didn't make sense, but I could never get to quite the level of many of my friends, some of whom would practically cream their panties over the power of his love. Why them and not I? Some say it's because I was never truly saved, which is apparently the only way to explain my leaving the light ("once saved, always saved", they say!) It's what they have to believe, I guess, in order to justify their precious bullshit: "If it didn't fulfill her too, it must not be for everyone. WAIT NO, SCARY EASTERN PHILOSOPHY, LALALA, THAT CAN'T BE IT!" *ahem* but that's a rant for another day!

Anyway, I was sure there must be something wrong with me, that I wasn't a good enough Christian, perhaps. Was I not praying enough? Was I masturbating too much!? Fellow Christians certainly never said anything to deter me from such a degrading line of thought. I was never good enough. No one was though - it's just that they were more okay with that idea than I ever was. I did accept it for sure, but in me it set off the bullshit alarm that I'd always ignored, fearing that such an exploration would lead me astray (which it did indeed, and thankfully so)!

It didn't even cross my mind, at the time, that maybe I was simply less emotional than some of my friends. I was also more inquisitive, which is a trait I have come to respect, both in myself and in others. Unfortunately, back then it served only as another guilt trigger - what a shame! If I decide to put my baby maker to use one day, I will be sure to help nourish such wonderful traits in my own children - there's certainly no shame in wanting to make sense of your world!

I came alive the day that I left God and all of his baggage behind. I thrive on the freedom to explore my own thoughts rather than ignore or hide from them, and I am more than okay with that now. While I know the Jesus juice can be a powerful drug for some, I'd rather live life sober. A little blasphemy is a nice high to spice things up now and again, but where it counts, knowledge is power!

Come to think of it, maybe there is some Jesus bukake in my future. I'd resist of course, so it'd have to be bondage style, yeaaa that would teach me! hmm ... sounds more like a job for his dad ... :)

The Transition: Part 1

I can split into three phases, my gradual transition into agnosticism/atheism. For this post, I will be focusing on the first phase, which was liberal Christianity. In Liberal Christianity, I had decided that the angry Christians (those that focused more on sin, judging others, and seemed to have a fetish for the Old Testament) were going about it wrong, but that the message Jesus brought to the world was beautiful and real. In this phase, I sought connections with loving Christians; those whose personalities mirrored my idea of who Jesus was.

One Christian in particular was there for me when the angry Christians really had me down (I'll get to her in a moment). With them, emphasis was always on my sin. I was a terrible witness for living with my boyfriend, as new believers could become confused by this, thinking premarital sex was okay. Next thing I know, it is thoroughly assumed that I am indeed having sex (which I eventually chose to do, but was not in the midst of all the assumptions) According to my highly respected uncle, a 70-something "graduate of Bible college who had been preaching for 40 years, many more years of experience than I had", God was probably going to give me cervical cancer for my sexual immorality. I might also die young for having dishonored my parents (it's all in the book).

Did anyone care that I was in a beautiful relationship with a man that I loved with all of my heart? Did anyone care that in spite of his depressing childhood, he came out strong, sane, and caring? Did anyone even care to get to know him? No - apparently, his background was more important than all of that. He was 'unchurched' (I don't even know if that's a word) and his family didn't have a lot of money. Even when he showed interest in being born again, he still was not accepted by these types. My mother had her eyes set on pastor's sons and missionaries. This guy was scum, and he had no business being associated with me, let alone my boyfriend. Well, that's how the angry Christians viewed it.

I didn't blame Jesus or Christianity for the actions of these angry Christians. I knew that God was perfect even though man, having a sinful nature, managed to screw up what God meant for good. At some point, I got in contact with a former youth minister's wife. I never knew her well, but her husband was the kind of Christian that I looked up to. Even though they no longer served in my church (although, it wasn't my church anymore - my membership was suspended and eventually terminated due to my sinful lifestyle), I knew they were in ministry together at another church in South Carolina. Being his wife, she probably held similar views.

This wishful thinking gave me the courage to open up to her about my life; I needed a mature, loving Christian to talk to and she was the only one within my reach, at the time. As expected, she was very understanding - she even said that she thought D (my boyfriend of the time) and I were 'the real deal'! It meant so much to have another Christian say that. She did not judge and in fact, was kind enough to share her own experiences in the early stages of dating her husband. From these conversations, I learned that she engaged in premarital sex, had mommy issues, and shared a similar frustration with those angry Christians. Not only could I relate in general, but these characteristics also set her apart from the unthinking 'bubble' Christians I was used to in my peer group - she had a 'dark past'.

Now, she was technically against premarital sex; in fact, she and her husband became 'born again virgins' at some point before they married. Of course, she gave reasons as to why it would be a good idea for my boyfriend and I to do the same. She also encouraged me to try and find a church that was 'alive' - she did not necessarily agree with my disinterest in organized religion and believed that a church alive with the true spirit of Christ was worth the search and a wonderful (and important) thing to be a part of.

Even though there were many things we didn't agree on, I enjoyed our conversations because they inspired me to look a layer deeper within myself. She didn't push anything on me and never treated me as though I were foolish or evil for questioning her words. She made points that were interesting on the surface, but it always came down to interpretation of scripture and, more importantly, whether or not the Bible was even true. Conversations involving this theme were what eventually led me into phase two: spiritual explorations.

Atheism is a Scary Word!

As of now, I do not believe in any gods, or an afterlife. At the same time, I don't think anyone can know can know any of these things for sure. This makes me an Agnostic Atheist. I secretly hope reincarnation is true, but recognize this as an after-life fantasy, one to ease the fear of death. While it's fun to think about from time to time, I could never in good conscience obsess over it. I like to be comfortable, but I think it's only possible to progress when the mind is out of its comfort zone. As much as I love comfort (and ohhh, I reeeally do!), progression is better in the long run and must be my top priority.

I've considered myself, both publicly and personally, more strongly agnostic than atheist, even sometimes denying the atheism all together; lately, I have been wondering why. So far, I've concluded a couple of things. First is that I am, on some level, afraid to fully consider myself an atheist. I am more afraid to admit it to others than I am to myself, but there is discomfort to be found in both instances.

Why would I be afraid when I know what atheism is? It seems silly on the surface. I know that atheists are not 'Ebeneezer Scrooges', bitter and angry at God', as implied by many of the Christians in my past. I know what it's like to think from a Christian mindset - and that from that point of view, it's difficult or even impossible to step outside of oneself enough to realize: just because you love God, it does not mean that someone who refuses to share that passion is simply angry at your God. The possibility does not come to mind that one could be indifferent toward a supposed God while frustrated with the negative effects of a strong belief in such a being. This is a benefit to the logical position: it does not have to get in the way of an emotional view, but it allows one to see beyond it, if needed (and it's always a good practice to analyze emotions). Even the more logical Christian (yes, they do exist), while able to analyze other aspects of his/her life, must turn off the brain in the area of (his/her) religion, in light of the faith requirement.

As a Christian, I did also notice the anger toward Christianity among atheists which, in my mind at the time, justified the 'angry atheist' argument. Now, I know (from my own experience as well as examples from others') that it's not God they have a problem with. I'm sure there are rebellious teenagers (for example) out there, going through anti-God phases, claiming atheism, the most opposing view they can find -- but that's irrelevant, considering the true definition (of atheism). I am sure, however, that when such individuals are welcomed back into the church, it only confirms to the Christian that the 'anger' theory is correct.

No - an atheist's anger is not toward God, or even toward Christian/religious individuals (usually). Their anger is more often concerning religion in general, because of how it is affecting humanity as a whole. The fact of the matter is that atheism is the logical position; it is irrational to believe in God; especially with such a fiery passion. Christianity on the other hand feeds on human emotion. Free-thinkers must aggressively fight for progression because there are still people out there, too afraid of reality and change, to abandon ideas that no longer apply. It is frustrating, to say the least, for the those involved in the effort to update the laws/views in light of what we now know. We can't move forward because the majority still refuses to look past their own comforts and feelings enough to adapt and improve.

This brings me back to the main question: why am I still afraid of the term (atheist)? Even though I am more concerned with progression and that the fact that we can't know anything for sure about the 'supernatural' (so why obsess?), it is still true that I don't believe in a God/gods. That means, however weak or strong, I am an ATHEIST! I think awareness of the misconceptions of atheism (having been so heavily exposed to them) is the main reason behind the natural tendency to avoid being associated with the term. The better solution would be to stand up for what the word really means, and to clear up any misconceptions that pop up along the way. That would require of me a willingness to defeat my inner wimp; the scared little Christian girl who avoids confrontation at all costs. It would mean getting out of my comfort zone, the very thing I claim to stand for.

Another reason (in conjunction with the former) I consider is that the misrepresented idea toward atheism was so ingrained, certain negative associations to the term still linger fruitlessly, much like the irrational guilt that I also deal with, despite all knowledge gained.

It's such an odd experience - living most of my life with a delusional view of the world, knowing nothing else ... and then gradually learning to break away, seeing what the bubble looks like from the outside. I do like that I have two different perspectives on the matter, but at the same time, it's been hard on my mind. The mind loves its comforts. It craves what's known and what's familiar. It can even bury memories that it would rather not deal with. In such a case, it could be a lot of work to bring them to the surface, but psychologists know that sometimes it is what's needed in order for the patient to heal and grow in a better direction. I think of how hard it is for ME, someone desperately trying (and struggling every step of the way) to fight MYSELF, and all of the instincts that get in the way of progression; just to think, at the very same time, there are millions of people fighting to justify these fears, giving them positive names, tying them with pretty little ribbons, and even selling them ... well, it makes me sick to my stomach.

Bottom line: I need to beat this fear! I am no longer blinded by 'the light'; there's no excuse. Staying silent, denying truths ... I think it makes me just as bad or worse than the Christians I speak against.

Relationships with Xtians? o_0

I've recently been thinking of former Xtian friends. (I say former, but they are still 'friends' on facebook. I am actually a bit torn as to whether or not I'd like to change that, but I'll save that rant for another day!) I should mention that I am well past the pain I'd felt years ago for having left these friends behind, but the relationship I aim to maintain with my father has got me wondering how far it can really go. This all has led to the re-evaluation of friendships with Xtians of the past. One in particular, we'll call her Jovie, was undeniably one of the best friends I've ever had.

A little background information: It has always been a struggle for me to open up to people, likely due to the many 'sinful' urges I'd always felt pressured into holding back (sexuality of course, but in this case: the urge to doubt, to question, and to think for myself). Now, there were some Xtians I can recall that were stuffy or even downright mean to anyone who dared to question, blatantly viewing them as inferior/sinful. I must also remember those that made an effort to, at the very least, appear understanding as they attempted to ease the doubts or even understand. While I appreciate the kinder approaches of these individuals (obviously having sense enough know, at least on some buried level, that questioning is not in fact evil), there is no getting around that a 'child-like faith' is what is most highly praised in the Bible, as the term 'doubting Thomas' has definite negative connotations in Xtian circles.

That said, I'd always refrained from opening up even to close friends about certain things, because of the fear that they might judge harshly. Obviously, I'm speaking of religious concerns, but it went deeper than that; this fear infected the core of my being. Not only was I nervous of doubts concerning God/Jesus/the Bible/Xtians, but I became uneasy whenever I had an opinion of my own. I still spoke up from time to time within the home, if it was a non-religious differing opinion (although, my parents found ways to apply religion to everything, as 'good' Xtians often do), but that was linked to the knowledge that I may never be 'acceptable' by my mother's standards. I'd learned that early on and gradually became more and more concerned with finding acceptance outside of the home. I don't think it would be fair to blame religion entirely for my wimpish tendencies. I do however think the supposed 'positive' aspects of religion never did appeal to my personality type while the negative ones latched onto the insecurities connected to my timid nature, and fed on them like a leech.

Back on topic: I met Jovie at church, the only place I was encouraged (and eventually the only place I was permitted) to engage in social interaction aside from family, Xtian events, and acceptable extended family. We clicked on many 'important' levels (spiritual included, at the time), but more importantly an intellectual one, which was new for me. My other 'close' friends of the time had either taken it to such a shallow level that they may as well have been 'of the world' or they were more emotional than logical (not the brightest crayons...) thusly using religion as more of an emotional high. Jovie was not overly emotional and was in fact level-headed and rather bright. She took her faith seriously, but didn't get on weird levels with it the way another friend of mine did (Jesus orgasm, anyone?). She was far more bubbly than I, more confident and outgoing while also less questioning and a bit less imaginative. However, we thought on such similar levels and in such similar ways, which made me feel more connected to her than any other friend. All in all, I felt as though we balanced each other out quite nicely.

Could I have still been friends with her today? Could we still connect the way we used to, even as I want nothing anymore to do with religion? For me, the intellectual aspects of our conversations meant far more than the 'spiritual', which I, even as a serious Xtian, could never feel deeply to begin with (it was always rather forced). I can never know because I chose to assume that our friendship could not continue and acted accordingly. I'd already concluded that she could not handle the changes in me, and kept contact light and shallow until there was nothing left. It hurt, and I knew that I was hurting her too, but decided it was for the best. I robbed her the opportunity to try and understand. Maybe I was right. Perhaps one of the biggest connectors in her mind was in fact the 'spiritual' one. That certainly is often the case, and the reason behind the former fundamentalist's struggle associated with 'loss of community'. Still, I should not have chosen for her. Could I have been the one to provoke within in her the need to question, even her beliefs? She may not have had reason to doubt (she was not as abused by religion as was I, and we are prone only to change what we can tell affects us negatively) but she certainly had the capacity to see from another angle, if needed. I know that I made a mistake, but this is much more a lesson learned than a regret.

Even though I know it is important to give people a fair chance (those who have earned it, that is), I am still a bit uncertain as to how to handle certain quirks within the Atheist/Christian relationship. Should I really have the Creationism vs Evolution debate with my father, even though he, based on information slipped from our conversations, wants so desperately to believe that the nice things in the Bible are true? I'm not so sure about my mother, but I know that my dad genuinely loves me as his "feisty" (yes, as timid as I am, every so often my inner 'whipper-snapper' comes to surface) daughter and that nothing could change that. Still, the core of his belief system requires him to look at people through those black and white "believer-or-non-believer" lenses. This suggests a superiority complex, whether subtle or strong. Would this not get in the way of having a healthy relationship? I think as to what extent depends on one's personality (i.e. my mother is emotional and eccentric, so it gets in the way much more with us. My dad on the other hand is calm and level-headed). Still, it is just unfortunate that something as worthless as an outdated, fear-based mindset gets in the way at all.