I’d like to make an observation from my own personal life. In the parlance of professional arguers (and their understudies) this is called “anecdotal evidence,” but I can attest to its authenticity because it comes straight out of my own first-hand experience, and recent experience at that. I’d like to observe that the moral support I’ve seen from godless heathens lately has far surpassed the support I’ve seen from the Christians I know. Yes, I know that’s an incendiary comment, but let me explain.

I’ve always found writing to be a satisfying and constructive outlet and I’ve done it sporadically for years. When I was a Christian I started a blog and eventually wrote a book as well. Many who know me already know that. What they may not know is how precious little support I actually received in that process, and how little encouragement I received from the people from whom I needed it most. Toward the very end of writing the book, I found one fellow writer (well beyond me in experience and maturity) who was supportive enough to help me find a small publisher for the book. He also offered helpful and detailed criticism, which I appreciated as well. A couple of friends whom I asked for editing help contributed to that cause, too. But the people closest to me, from whom I needed support? Not so much. I’ll give a few illustrative examples and then explain what’s different today.

Writing can take a lot of time and energy, so it’s important to have the support of people around you. I don’t want to go into too much detail here, but I’ll say that the people closest to me didn’t see much value in what I was doing. My readers seemed to appreciate it enough, but I needed support from people in my personal life as well. Instead of support from them, what I got ranged from indifference to subtle resistance. I remember being asked, “Why exactly are you doing this? Is anybody really reading it? Who do you expect will benefit from this? I just don’t understand why you feel this is a good use of your time.” At least they tolerated the process of writing for the blog and the book, so I had to be happy with that. I kept going because I felt it had value and it seemed to connect with those who actually read it. I often quip that my writing received wild accolades from all twelve people who read it.

When the book was done, thanks to a ridiculously well-connected friend I was approached by a publishing company with a pretty decent national distribution, and they said they really liked it and wanted to put it in stores all over the country under their label. Before you get too impressed, they were a subsidy publisher, which means authors have to put in an initial investment of their own to get the first printing done and the company handles the distribution side of things; if it does well, future printings become the responsibility of the publisher. That’s how they limit their losses on books that flop while giving an opportunity for unknown authors to get off the ground. Unlike many such publishers, this one had a solid reputation and my friend was able to vouch for the quality of their work. I saw their books all over the place once I started looking. So I went to a very close family member who had financial resources to ask for help with this project, but he told me that he didn’t think it was a reasonable investment to make, so he declined. “Come back to me when you’ve written a book that even I would want to read.” Ouch. Well, it’s his money, his prerogative. I happen to know that he had already invested nearly twice the amount I needed on another family member’s “hobby.” Evidently, he deemed my work less valuable than what this other family member was doing (or maybe he just thought my writing sucked). Strike one for me.

Meanwhile, I had an ongoing ministry relationship with a much older minister who had published quite a number of successful titles over several decades. He had appeared on popular Christian broadcasts and owned his own small publishing company. I had supported his ministry in a number of ways, including helping him out with a couple of his own writing projects and also publicly coming to his defense when his character was impugned by a group of rival ministers (there’s an interesting phrase). I asked for his help in the book writing process, but he was clearly more interested in getting me to help him on his so that never went anywhere. I finished the book on my own and asked him if he’d be interested in publishing it. My theological emphases were virtually identical to his own, and I felt it was well-written to boot. He declined. In fact, he wouldn’t even give it an endorsement because I also received an endorsement from another writer of whom he did not approve, and he said he didn’t want his name on the same book that featured the other man’s name. Huh, okay. Strike two.

Before finding the older gentleman scholar who actually offered real support, I had hoped that one more published writer friend might help me make some connections. He was another whom I had helped out on a previous project, contributing large chunks of text to one of his books. I spent a good portion of my free time over a period of several months buried in libraries in two different states digging up obscure historical details for a research-based book which I very much wanted to see make it into print. I compiled my findings and presented my conclusions to him in the form of several papers, complete with detailed footnotes and appendices. He kept praising my work and promising I’d receive glowing accolades for my contribution, but all I got was a brief mention in the acknowledgements. No big deal, really. I didn’t care about the credit; I just wanted to see this book make it into print and I was happy to be a part of it.

But then the book came out and I saw that several multi-page segments of the book were literally the papers I wrote, in toto, cut-and-pasted into the book without alteration. He didn’t even change any words, and all my footnotes were still there, unaltered, for pages and pages at a time. No mention of where all that text came from, as if he wrote it all himself. This is the kind of thing that Mark Driscoll got in trouble for a few months ago. It turns out some Christian ministers don’t have high standards where plagiarism is concerned. I didn’t put up a fuss because I was still young and very naïve; besides, eventually a much more well-known author came along and put his name on the book alongside my friend’s, at which point the more famous author’s staff went through and revised the content enough to virtually eliminate the cut-and-paste nature of those portions of the book. I didn’t really complain about all of that because I was still just flattered that my work had been so useful to the project (and I was still a kid as far as I’m concerned). But after this writer friend of mine landed a five book contract with a successful publishing company, I had at least hoped he might remember my work and put in a plug for me when I needed it. No such help came from him either, though. Strike three for me.

To be honest, I never got very discouraged by any of this. I never presumed that anyone was truly obligated to help me out (not even my family) so there were no strong expectations to disappoint. I never assume what I write will be meaningful for everyone, so I’m just happy when it connects with somebody. That’s how I felt when I wrote as a Christian, and that’s how I still feel now that I

write as a post-Christian. None of this struck me at the time as a failure to support me because I didn’t know anything else, and I had no other expectations.

Encouragement from Heathens

Since that time, I quit writing for a time and then resumed writing again as one no longer inside the Christian belief system. I started writing as an exercise to help me process my own thinking on a number of different issues. I also noticed that there was a preponderance of people writing and speaking critically about the Christian faith without having been devout Christians themselves (or at least not in the kind of traditions I came from). I felt like there was a breakdown of communication because of this lack of inside experience, so I started writing to try and describe what I’m seeing from my point of view. Evidently this has met a number of people where they are, because I regularly hear from people who identify with what I’m saying and they often thank me for saying it. For what it’s worth, the communication breakdown still happens much of the time because our conversation and our vocabulary are highly colored by our intellectual commitments, so that a Christian and a skeptic can look at and address the same set of facts but describe two totally different things. That’s frustrating but impossible to avoid, I think.

That’s partly why I spend relatively little time trying to dissuade Christians from believing what they believe. If they want to believe in spirits and such, I frankly don’t care, as long as they don’t try to guilt me for not doing the same. I mainly write to explain my own thought processes while I work through untangling all the things I was taught to believe as a child (something everyone should try at some point just to make sure they weed out whatever isn’t based in reality). I’m clarifying that because lately I’ve encountered some who seem to think I write in order to invalidate the Christian faith as a whole. I can see why they read me that way, but that’s not really a chief aim for me. As I’ve said before, I don’t consider myself an anti-theist (even if I don’t believe in any gods myself). I am an anti-fundamentalist because I’ve seen that belief system cause real harm. I will continue to explain why I don’t believe what others seem to require that I believe, but it’s only because they keep demanding that I justify my non-belief. I wonder sometimes if it’s not my disbelief that concerns them so. Maybe it’s theirs. Who knows? I’m digressing…

In the process of doing this, I’ve been pleasantly surprised to discover that my new godless heathen friends do a much better job of encouraging my writing than my Christian friends and family ever did. For starters, those closest to me now regularly encourage me to keep writing and several of them have offered specific advice and encouragement for putting my thoughts into print again by writing a new book. I’ve had popular YouTube video celebs message me, telling me they’re rooting for me and encouraging me to produce some videos of my own (I promise I will once I’ve got a video setup that I’m happy with). I’ve had a very high profile atheist blogger encourage me to write a book, giving helpful practical advice for making that work (this summer I just may do exactly as he recommended). Besides these I’ve had at least two other well-connected humanist spokespersons offer to connect me to publishers who would likely be interested in me telling as much of my story as I can. One friend felt so strongly that I should “put myself out there” and connect with people that he offered to help me cover my travel costs to make it to a conference of my choice. I’m feelin’ the love, here, and in light of my previous experience as a Christian writer failing to find much support from those who could have helped, I find the differences striking.

To some degree, this stark contrast may owe more to the circles in which I used to run. My Christian experience was limited to certain subcultures which may not have sufficiently possessed the generosity of which they were capable; I’ll grant that. And this is only one person’s experience, as told from his own selective and biased memory. But for me these differences have been real and tangible. As a Christian writer I experienced relatively little support from fellow writers or friends and family. As an atheist writer I’ve felt pretty steady support from multiple directions, and it sure does help. I’m not yet ready to diagnose what’s responsible for this difference, but it has definitely nudged me away from the notion that atheists don’t have community, or that you need the Holy Spirit to make you a loving person. These are prejudicial accusations which I haven’t seen borne out in my personal experience.

Come to think of it, I’ve seen quite a few examples recently of atheist generosity. Many have already drawn attention to the outpouring of support for Rebecca Vitsmun, who lost her home in the tornado that hit Moore, Oklahoma. Jessica Ahlquist received tremendous help from the atheist community after she was targeted for hate mail and death threats because she had the nerve to insist that her local government honor the Establishment Clause. They raised $44,000 in scholarship money for her to use toward tuition, room, board, and books. When Ryan Bell lost all three sources of income a few days after posting a blog announcing his “year without God” experiment, atheist groups raised $17,000 to help him meet his financial obligations while he figures out where to go from here. These are all high profile, public displays of godless generosity and I suppose those wanting to be cynical could argue that they are less about caring for those individuals and more about drawing attention to a common “cause.” I suppose the same can be said for very public Christian displays of generosity. Without the highly organized apparatus of denominational bureaucracy, it’s more difficult for skeptics to raise significant funds and visibility will inevitably be much lower. But that hasn’t stopped them.

I’ve also seen very private generosity playing out in the lives of friends that I’ve made through social networking. When a young family I know got evicted from their home and lost their car, I watched a group of virtual friends collect Christmas presents online to send to their kids so they could have a good Christmas. Some among them even gave enough money to get them caught up on several of their bills and even take care of their transportation needs. I was deeply moved by this spontaneous generosity for my friends. It’s one thing to read about a very public, viral gift-giving spree for someone you’ve never met. It’s another thing altogether when you watch it unfold underneath your own nose, and it’s happening to friends. These people aren’t giving to please an invisible supervisor, they are doing it because they care, and they want to see their friends thrive. There’s more I could say about this (the moral support alone can be a major pick-me-up when you’re down and needing a friend, let alone material support), but I’ve made my point for now. Christians tell me that without belief in Jesus, people won’t have a reason to care about each other, or to provide real support. They don’t understand that they’re wasting their breath because I’ve seen with my own eyes that they’re wrong about that.

One more thing I’d like to throw in here about pursuing something you care about and enjoy doing. I’m not one o

f those who believes you should always be able to turn your greatest passion into a successful source of income. In the current economic climate things are tough all over, and people like me have to work multiple jobs at once just to make ends meet. Well-meaning people love saying “Do what you love,” but it doesn’t always work out that way. Most of us end up working through a series of difficult and tedious jobs to pay the bills while our “passions” get sidelined indefinitely. That’s just the way it goes. But that’s no reason to completely discard what you love doing. Nobody wants to feel half-alive. So I want to encourage all of us to keep picking up the things we love doing whenever life permits. The only way to get good at something is to keep on doing it, even when setbacks get you down. Sometimes you have to set what you want aside for a while but you can usually pick it back up and do it again.

I’ll leave you with this little bit of advice which Mandy Patinkin recently gave a young man in an impromptu cab interview at the Sundance Film Festival. His advice was for struggling actors but his words struck me as relevant to all kinds of pursuits and passions. Plus, it’s Inigo Montoya, so that’s enough reason to share :)