An only child, from a very early age I was keenly interested in reading and learning, especially scientific books. In grade school I spent much of my spare time either in the local library or at home with my own books, such as The Dawn of Man and Cosmos (it remains beyond me why my mother would buy such imposing books for a grade schooler, perhaps I requested them). This early stage molded (some might say warped) my nature into a more reclusive and rational mindset. No doubt the incessant reading impaired me socially, not only because of the hours spent alone rather than interacting with others, but also because the children I grew up with seemed to genuinely loathe learning in general and bright kids in particular. I considered this an unfortunate aspect of public schooling, but I was fortunate in that I did not grow up in a part of the nation where the entire (adult) culture was actively anti-intellectual. That is until 7th grade, when my Mom remarried and we moved to Oklahoma City, smack in the buckle of the proverbial Bible belt. There I was to discover that much of what I had learned in my precious books was "utter rubbish" and was to be extricated from my mind in favor of the Genesis myth.
This confused and upset me somewhat, and despite the amazing flexibility of the young mind I never really managed to do away with the idea of empirical evidence in favor of faith. Nevertheless, I prayed the sinner's prayer that I might not go to Hell and became a good Baptist kid. Indeed, I thrived in the Southern Baptist environment, making many friends at the Henderson Hills Baptist Church (HHBC). I learned the Christian Scriptures (or at least the Protestant English translations thereof) through and through, and by the time I was a freshman in high school, I was teaching Sunday School to 4th graders. It wasn't until some time later, while in post-graduate school, that I began to seriously question my faith. I had always dealt with the occasional torturous bouts of doubt, usually at night, in which I'd lie awake and fret over the possibility that the metaphysical naturalists might be right, and there would be no afterlife for me or anyone. I saw this as a genuine possibility since I was initially steeped not in dogma but in science, and my undergraduate degree in physics had only reinforced the plausibility of such a notion.
Taking a straightforward approach to my doubts, I undertook to read the best atheistic arguments available, and counter them with the best apologetics available, thereby settling in my mind the question of God. I aspired even to perhaps become an apologist myself. As so I set out on my literature review. I did not make it far before being downright overwhelmed by the sheer force of the atheistic arguments. Most striking to me was the finding of the various schools of higher criticism which grew out of the German Bible scholarship of the 19th century. To see the incredible similarities between the gospels and other Hellenistic legends and Jewish messianic figures blew me away, as did the history of canonization and the progression evident in the Christian Scriptures. The possibility of mythical development of the gospels was so well argued by the likes of Mack, Crossan , and Wells that I could no longer treat gospels as reliable historical sources. Between the Biblical criticism and the moral arguments from evil and hell, I was rather quickly losing my religion. I tried to modify my beliefs to hold on to some vestiges of my faith, progressing rapidly through christocentric universalism, fideism, deism, and various combinations before finally realizing the futility of my endeavors. There was nothing in particular that pushed me over the edge, but there was a particular moment at which I admitted to myself (and my spouse) that I no longer believed. That was around four years ago this summer.