Note: This is the latest installment of “Leaving the Garden,” a weekly series in which we ask someone to reflect on their encounters with religion and uncertainty. Religion is filled with stories of faith; here we will collect narratives of unbelief. If you’d like to share your story of doubt, please leave a comment indicating your interest and I will contact you with guidelines.

This week’s contributor is Isaac, who is a technology geek by day, a religion scholar by night, and an elbow-throwing hockey player by weekend. He has a bachelor’s degree degree in Religious Studies and has been known to ramble ad nauseam at uncouth.net. [Note: John and Isaac belong to the same work-friendly Religious Studies department at Cal State Long Beach.]

Did I have a garden to leave?

I was raised in a non-religious family. The important point here is there was no effort by my parents to make me believe their beliefs. It was just never an issue. My father was an atheist and my mother is an agnostic. I was introduced to concepts of morality, social contracts, philosophy, and the like without ever needing to tie it to a religion. I still find it amazing that people propose that these be necessarily tied together, but I suppose I am biased because they were never done in that way for me. As a kid, it was enough for me to simply be good because it was right.

I started my religious exploration in high school. It is probably important to note that I was not introduced to the concepts of Christianity, or any religion for that matter, until then. A friend who was deeply devout sat me down one day and started explaining things. Not in a zealous, proselytizing way; he was simply matter of fact. After explaining the basic concepts, as he saw them, of Christianity–something about sin, about Christ and his role of arbiter with God–he asked me to pray with him. It was the first time I realized that prayer was not something fictional characters did but really was something that people did as part of normal life. It was an astounding revelation. I was hooked on a quest that would come to be a corner-stone of my life: to learn and understand religion.

When I started going to Bible studies and going to churches, my parents were supportive. Aside from the occasional sarcastic rib which was common friendly banter in my household, I was given free reign to go and find myself. I met some great people and had a lot of fun.

There were a couple of defining moments for me early on in this search which shaped things to come. The first was when I went to go get baptized. The friend who originally talked to me about Christianity brought me up to the pastor of his church one day to get baptized. The pastor asked me if my parents knew. This is important. He did not asked if they approved, he asked if they knew. I had not told them my plans so I answered, honestly, “no.” He refused. He refused to baptize me because my parents did not know I was going to do it. I can, especially in post-perspective, understand the concern of the Church. But the honest truth is he was very dismissive and made no attempt to explain things to me. It was exceptionally disheartening.

The second is when I actually get baptized. This may be foreign to some people, but it happened in a common swimming pool by a common person. He ran the bible study I went to, but he was not an authorized agent of a church. The church that he attended and the bible study was a part of was a “non-denominational” church and definitely had the non-authoritarian approach. I will admit, I had no religious transformational experience from this baptism. But I did have a revelation–if I could not get baptized in a Church by an authority figure, but I could in a pool by a common person, well, there was something wrong with the Church.

The dichotomy of these experiences really speaks to me of the difference between religion based in a church authority and religion as an experience by individuals and communities. As an essentially life long atheist who has devoted much time and energy to the study of religion, I do not harbor any resentment or anger–I am not a militant atheist. I see the value in individuals and their beliefs. I just wish there could be better dialogue, better understanding, and less hatred.

So, did I have a garden to leave? I guess ultimately I feel like my garden is life itself and I would never dream of leaving.