Dive right in.

I can tell you the moment I lost my faith in God. It was one night I decided to go along with my family to Youth Group.

Well, call it a tipping point, as it didn't just occur in a flash of light, one moment I was a devout believer, next moment I was an atheist. Coming to terms with my atheism was a process which took years. Back then I would have called myself a Christian, albeit one who thought too much.

Back to the evening in question.
That night, the youth pastor had devoted the meeting to talking about atheism. I found it to be an interesting subject. I wasn't an especially devoted Christian, but I didn't understand how someone could simply not believe in God.
As the subject progressed, I started to feel uncomfortable, because the talk eventually and inevitably turned to the subject of damnation. How could it not, when the subject was atheism? Hell and damnation was the one part of Christianity I thought a lot about. I was terrified of this Hell, as anyone would be. But I spent a lot of time thinking about it. As I grew older,  I eventually found myself praying to Christ for forgiveness, not because I wanted to, and not because I loved God. I prayed because I was afraid of dying and spending eternity being tortured by evil spike tailed demons, chewing my bones, burning my flesh, all that nastiness. How could this kind of thing happen to anyone, what with God being so merciful and loving us?
Coming to his grand declaration, the pastor paused, looked around the room at all of us and said "Every atheist will die and will see God. They will say 'You are the real God!' And then they will be cast into Hell." And he really said it, just like that.

It caught me off guard. I knew full well that being atheist didn't make you a bad person. In fact, you can be a true humanitarian, donating to charities, feeding the hungry, helping children. But if you don't believe in God, it's hellfire for you.
Forever.
And ever.

It made me realize something. The Christianity that church taught was predicted in the idea that words speak louder than actions.

Yes, it did.

I tried to talk to some in my family later on. They argued with me, saying that anyone who had Christ in their heart would be good, naturally. I would say "Well, I don't have Christ in my heart. Am I good? Or am I going to Hell?" Sometimes, they'd say "Oh, you're going to Hell!" and laugh about it. But I didn't find it funny. Even though I had started really doubting Christianity, I was still terrified of burning in Hell.
Other times when I brought it up they would say "God really knows your heart, Zachary. You won't go to Hell." But I knew they didn't believe that. And I knew they were probably scared for me. Maybe even scared of me, a little bit.

You see, being good isn't enough. You have to beg, every day, for mercy. Christians don't call it begging. They call it praying. But that's what it was for me. Who knows if you really mean it? Well, apparently God would. But then, wouldn't God know you meant it if you spent your time helping people? Making the world a better place? Feeding the hungry, giving to the needy, not asking for anything in return? Evidently not, if you don't believe in him.

The God I was taught about is not merciful. Not loving, not caring, not helpful, not anything but a tyrant.

Mercy is not granting forgiveness to those who beg for it, whether they deserve it or not. Real mercy is forgiving those who deserve it and never even ask for it. And those who deserve it and don't ask for it know the truth; they don't NEED to ask for it.

I eventually got over the fear of hell. But it took years.

What really helped me was to realize that not only did I not need god, but perhaps more accurately, I need to not have god. You see, for me, there is no god. No man with a beard in the clouds granting love and mercy to mutually exclusive groups that hate each other one second, then turning an apathetic shoulder to an eternity of human suffering the next. 

I certainly don't begrudge believers their faith, as it harms me not at all. What others believe is their business (as long as they don't legislate it into some kind of forced adherence). 

At the end of the day, I'm not worried about a man who turned water into booze, or a guy who saw a plant catch on fire. I don't know what happened thousands of years ago. I wasn't there.

What I know is that I'm here. Right now. And there can be terrible things in life. But there is also love and beauty and grace.

And those things are quite good enough for me.