When a Jehovah's Witness Grows Up to Be an Atheist

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The man smiled, told me his name, asked mine, and shook my hand. The woman offered her name and hand. They encouraged me to take a look at the pamphlet and went on their way.

I shut my door and gently locked it.

My son had not lingered at the door like he usually does for deliverers of pizza, but I had seen his hand at the blinds. He asked who was at the door, what they wanted. Just a man and a woman, I told him; They wanted to talk about what they believed. He was satisfied, moving on to another of the approximately 874 questions he asks each day.

Once his voice quieted, I took stock of myself. My stomach still felt abandoned. Holding up my palm, I saw without surprise that it was shaking. All this time, all these years, so many false degrees of separation later – I am still a child dissatisfied with their answers.

Their buildings are modest, their funds are not. Their beliefs are lowly, their lies lofty. Their army is filled with kind, loving Brothers and Sisters waiting to welcome me home, infiltrating the one I have made for myself. My blog is tiny and their website is translatable into languages I can’t pronounce.

They scare me.

Not the believers – the beliefs. They knock on my door, but prey on the hearts of others. Jehovah’s Witnesses are only one sect of one religion of three of hundreds of thousands.

I am small, but I speak. I speak so there is a voice besides their own.
Originally published at Wary Wonderlust


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