The day I stopped fearing Hell
When I was a child, I believed that God was real, but I never believed that he was the only god in the world.
I grew up in a cultural Christian home (going to church maybe 3 times per year, including end-of-school-year ceremonies), in the Lutheran/Evangelical Swedish Church, and I spent years in youth groups. The Swedish school system had this clause for many years, that children should be raised in Christian traditions and values. I remember my teacher reading from the Children's Bible by candlelight. This was a few days before the Winter break and she was reading about the nativity. Nothing about Herod or babies being hurt. Just the nice thing about not finding shelter and Jesus being born in a barn. I also remember thinking it was dumb for a very pregnant woman traveling on a donkey at the risk of her and the baby, but chalked it up to different times. I was 11 at the time and thanks to the youth group leaders, I already knew that doubting the stories told in the Bible would send me to eternal torment.
To answer the question on when I stopped believing in Hell, the short answer is - too late. The long answer is, I was 31. I'm going to turn 33 this year. I stopped believing in the Abrahamic God when I was 14, and it took almost 18 more years for me to shake the fear of Hell. So thorough was the indoctrination I was exposed to in the relatively secular country of Sweden, that I still feel that small twinge of fear whenever I think about the fact that I don't think that there is a god.
How insidious is it that we enforce a nightmare like hell, pushing it onto impressionable children, so even in their adult life, any break from the norm feels like a death sentence? What right do parents and adults in society have to plant this nightmare in children's heads, on the off chance that their all loving deity actually exists and needs to eternally punish those who do not obey him without question? My fear of hell didn't stop me from shop-lifting, lying, stealing, or fighting as a teenager. It wasn't until I stopped fearing punishment that I learned to not be an asshole, because I left more room for empathy and compassion.
I am finally free from my fear of torment and it has made me a more compassionate person. Instead of doing good and expecting a reward, I do good because it is the right thing to do.
I grew up in a cultural Christian home (going to church maybe 3 times per year, including end-of-school-year ceremonies), in the Lutheran/Evangelical Swedish Church, and I spent years in youth groups. The Swedish school system had this clause for many years, that children should be raised in Christian traditions and values. I remember my teacher reading from the Children's Bible by candlelight. This was a few days before the Winter break and she was reading about the nativity. Nothing about Herod or babies being hurt. Just the nice thing about not finding shelter and Jesus being born in a barn. I also remember thinking it was dumb for a very pregnant woman traveling on a donkey at the risk of her and the baby, but chalked it up to different times. I was 11 at the time and thanks to the youth group leaders, I already knew that doubting the stories told in the Bible would send me to eternal torment.
To answer the question on when I stopped believing in Hell, the short answer is - too late. The long answer is, I was 31. I'm going to turn 33 this year. I stopped believing in the Abrahamic God when I was 14, and it took almost 18 more years for me to shake the fear of Hell. So thorough was the indoctrination I was exposed to in the relatively secular country of Sweden, that I still feel that small twinge of fear whenever I think about the fact that I don't think that there is a god.
How insidious is it that we enforce a nightmare like hell, pushing it onto impressionable children, so even in their adult life, any break from the norm feels like a death sentence? What right do parents and adults in society have to plant this nightmare in children's heads, on the off chance that their all loving deity actually exists and needs to eternally punish those who do not obey him without question? My fear of hell didn't stop me from shop-lifting, lying, stealing, or fighting as a teenager. It wasn't until I stopped fearing punishment that I learned to not be an asshole, because I left more room for empathy and compassion.
I am finally free from my fear of torment and it has made me a more compassionate person. Instead of doing good and expecting a reward, I do good because it is the right thing to do.
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