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In my previous article, “‘Dear Alan…’ Letter to a Deconstructor (Part 1),” I explained how my friend, Alan Bondar, issued a challenge to Christians to read a pre-publication copy of his book titled, How to Kill God the Easy Way. Alan, who was once in Christian ministry, now refers to himself as an “agnostic atheist.” To receive that copy of his book, I had to agree to finish reading it and share my results with him through his website by August 31, 2024, which I did.

Alan asked for two things: (1) an answer to the question, “If still a Christian, what is the reason you believe God exists?” and (2) a response to the following: “Share anything about the book that would explain your results. Please include supporting content from the book that you either agreed or disagreed with.”

My previous article answered (1). This article responds to (2). Together, both articles comprise my personal letter to Alan, the completion of which I am now sharing with you.

I remind those who read my previous article that Alan indicated that the publication goal for his book is the end of October, so some of the things I address below may be changed in the final draft.

Here is my response:

It’s hard to know where to begin beyond what I shared above in answer to your previous question, “If still a Christian, what is the reason you believe God exists?” I think what I wrote there provides a partial answer to your request here. This, of course, implies that nothing in your book shook my faith in the existence of the God of the Bible.

But if I were to pick my own starting point for explaining the conclusion I’ve come to as a result of reading your book, it would be this: You’re angry, Alan. You’re very, very, very angry. And I get it.

You admit to at least some level of anger on page 108 of the PDF copy of your book that you graciously shared with me when you write, “I am not angry at God any more than I am angry at gurrings. I am, however, angry that you and I were both brainwashed to believe in God.”

It’s good when we’re aware of our own anger because a lot of people walk around steeped in anger but don’t admit it to themselves and don’t seem to realize how much it impacts their behavior and how others react to them. But the fact that your writing style appears to thinly veil a furnace of rage makes me wonder how conscious of it you actually are. It’s as though you hope to drive away any believers you fail to persuade before they finish reading.

This is most evident in your vocabulary choices. In your 254-page book, you employed the slurs “brainwash” or “brainwashing” against belief in God an average of more than once per page, according to my PDF reader’s search feature.

After coming to the end of your book, I went back to assemble the following list of terms seemingly designed to provoke as much anger as they express:

1. “brainwash/brainwashing/etc.”: 255 times
2. “addict/addiction/etc.”: 217 times
3. “invisible friend”: 39 times
4. “mind-virus”: 34 times
5. “confuse/confusion”: 33 times
6. “ridiculous/ridiculously”: 25 times
7. “myth/mythical/etc.”: 24 times
8. “absurd/absurdity/etc.”: 22 times
9. “stupid”: 12 times
10. “unicorn(s)”: 11 times
11. “silly”: 8 times
12. “idiot”: 6 times
13. “farce”: 3 times
14. “make-believe”: 3 times

I think there are a few instances in which some of these terms weren’t aimed directly at belief in God or Christianity, but those cases nevertheless add to the terms’ cumulative impact on the reader. That impact will vary according to each person’s disposition.

I assume that as many angry atheists repeatedly encounter this kind of language it will serve to fortify their sense of self-justification. I have a feeling they will tend to welcome these negative epithets despite their redundancy. And if you’re simply writing to the already-converted, especially the most disgruntled among them, then I suppose your purpose has been served.

But if you’re trying to reach committed believers, or even those who may be sitting on the fence, I don’t think this approach will prove as effective as you might hope. As a believer myself, I reacted to the vast majority of these terms as I would to the crassest form of continuous question-begging. Simply lobbing salvo after salvo of insulting language at my view does nothing to persuade me, and I think you have to admit that this probably works the same way with most reasonable people.

The pugilistic posture maintained by this (can I be frank?) incessant verbal abuse of faith in God badly taints your brief, seven-and one-half-page coverage of the historic arguments for the existence of God (pages 71-78). The fact that you attempt to dispose of these arguments in just over 5,000 words neither grants them their due respect nor commands respect for your arguments from those familiar with them.

But more basic than that, it’s often said that when debating against a position, before presenting your case against it you should state your opposition’s case in such clear and sympathetic terms that those who hold it will agree that you’re representing it fairly. I do not think you accomplished this in your book.

As I kept reading, the sheer quantity of anger my mind was exposed to began to wear greatly on me. But I had committed to reading your book and knew I had to tough it out.

Some of your grievances against the Christians and the church are legitimate, and I share them with you. I’ve had some of the same experiences, so I believe I can empathize with you here.

This proved especially true when I came to Chapter 36, “Shame,” where I read in the first paragraph:

“I’m not sure why anyone would want to return to a tribe or religion when the leader’s goal is to shame you by publicly declaring details about your private life that you entrusted to them.”

I resonated deeply with this. Decades ago, my wife and I had a horrible experience in what is known a “cult of confession.” Its leader claimed to believe in evangelical theology, and he had some superficial connections to legitimate Christians outside his little group, but they didn’t know that he maintained cultish control over his followers by, among other things, requiring confession of private sins. He promised not to disclose them, but he eventually broke that promise.

I can testify to the durability of the wounds and scars that result from this treatment. I can also testify to how enraging it is, and how long one can struggle with that rage after escaping this level of coercive control.

I am so sorry that something even somewhat similar to this happened to you.

Although you expressed yourself extensively on the subject of “Guilt” in Chapter 35, it seems to me that you really started becoming somewhat vulnerable—and relatable—in your chapter on “Shame.” I felt glad I had read that far when I finally came to it, but also sad because of what I was reading.

On page 214, you wrote:

“…I am constantly being told that either ‘sin’ or pain is the reason I lost my faith and left Christianity. And apparently, from what I heard from my former friends in their public rebukes of me, the reason I ended up as an atheist is that I never repented of my ‘sins’ and I just wanted to keep enjoying those ‘sins.’

“What they clearly don’t know is how much I poured my heart out to God in repentance and even tried to make amends with the people I hurt while I was still a Christian. I guess God’s expectation of repentance and the pursuit of righteousness once you ‘sin’ was too lofty for me to achieve.”

Just as it was heartbreaking to read about how you experienced a painful violation of confidentiality, so also I found this heartbreaking. Your description of your struggles with guilt and shame as a professing Christian echoed familiarly in my soul, as I think it would in every honest believer.

But it sounded like you were isolated in this pain. I wondered if anyone in your church was aware of what you were going through and trying to help you.

You felt condemned. Every Christian knows this feeling. That’s why we need reminders like, “There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus,” (Romans 8:1, ESV).

But you give no indication that you tried to appeal to that truth before God as you struggled with guilt and shame. I know you’re familiar with this verse, but it is not to be found in your book.

This is tragic.

You apparently cared enough about others to openly confess when you wronged them, and this was something your conscience could also have appealed to when struggling with other sins because it’s the kind of thing John was talking about when he wrote, “for whenever our heart condemns us, God is greater than our heart, and he knows everything,” (1 John 3:20, ESV).

The picture I get when I arrive at this part of your book is of you sinking in the quicksand of guilt and shame and despair, and the whole time there were abundant promises in Scripture designed to alleviate your burden. Did no one remind you of them?

I know few if any believers who are not familiar with the pain of succumbing to the same sins over and over. This can truly wear our souls down.

But Proverbs 24:16 tells us, “…the righteous falls seven times and rises again…” (ESV). In biblical literature, when we see the words, “falls seven times,” it’s understandable if we take them as a signal to think, “That’s it! Seven is the number of completion, so the righteous have fallen completely here. There’s no way they can recover from this!”

But the verse teaches the opposite. And I think the author’s reference to “seven times” is designed to induce astonishment that anyone can possibly arise from such complete fallenness. But believers do. The righteous rise again.

If the repeated falling makes us weary, and we need spiritual support, it’s right and good to find a trustworthy brother or sister to confide in about that. But it’s never right or good for that person at any time to break that confidence, even if outwardly it seems we’ve fallen for the last time. Maybe we haven’t.

I understand how it can come as a relief to think we can simply jettison the concepts of sin and guilt from our thinking, but that’s like jettisoning the concepts of legal employment and income tax because we’re tired of worrying about having no money in the bank. There is an IRS, and they will find you.

And there is a God, and He doesn’t have to “find” us. But there is also Christ, and He invites everyone to come. He invites you to come. And I know you’ve already heard this, but if you come sincerely, He promises to end your struggle against guilt and shame and condemnation, even if you’ve already given up on those concepts, and give you rest (Matthew 11:28-30). This is my hope for you.

I read the rest of your book, but this is all I have for now. Maybe we can talk sometime.

Thank you for giving me this opportunity.Ω

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