Ever since I’ve become an atheist, I’ve been lectured by Christians on my lack of “humility.”

This seems odd to me, because I’m actually more humble than I was when I was a Christian. I mean, before I thought that the beliefs I had were taking me to heaven. My faith had the answer; it was a pity those headed towards hell refused it

Faith (especially faith like that) is a very prideful decision to make. According to Hebrews 11:1 (NIV), “faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see.” After being an atheist for three years, it boggles my mind how much pride one would need to have in their intuition and emotions to decide to have faith in something that is beyond what can be empirically seen. That’s a level of arrogance I don’t think I’d ever be able to imitate again.

And the other thing is…I’ve gotten to know people more openly since I’ve left Christianity. When I was a Christian, part of having faith was believing that those who didn’t believe the right thing would be judged by the Bible’s God. But the more I’ve gotten to know people and sought to understand them, the more I’ve been humbled by them. Right now I’m humbled to the point that I think everyone has a story, and I respect their humanity and seek to understand their stories even when they are things I really disagree with, or things that make me upset.

Before I though some were saved and some were damned, and now I think we’re just people on a pale blue dot spinning in a mind-bogglingly vast universe, as we each figure out how to spend our seventy years (give or take). And while I care very much about this venture, I don’t have the pride or sense of superiority to say that anyone struggling through this life deserves eternal torment after leaving it. The humility of my journey in atheism has planted too much love in my heart to think anyone really deserves that.

It’s also, to tell you the truth, a bit stunning when a Christian answers detailed discussions of evidence regarding the veracity of amazing claims of things that supposedly happened 2000 years ago with, “I just have faith.” I can’t relate these days. I can’t “just have faith” — I am not proud enough of my intuition. The humility of my atheist experience has led me to be open to mystery, to look at probabilities and carefully come to decisions, to think about evidence and to invite skepticism. It is difficult for me to imagine, these days, having enough pride to say that something is “just so.”

It’s a beautiful journey for me, and part of its beauty is in its humility. The humility I feel as resident in the universe is similar to what you might find when looking down a powerfully moving stream, and the calm I feel is like the peace I that comes over when I walk through the Fort Worth Botanic Gardens.

I’m not saying it is this way for all atheists. But it is for this one, and several others I know.

I don’t think I will ever again have enough pride to reject and ignore so much empirical experience, and my fellowship with humankind and existence, for a faith that is immune to these experiences.

Hopefully that clears some things up.

Thanks for reading.