When I was 10 years old, I remember attending Easter Sunday at my grandma’s church in NC. We used to spend every Easter there. My grandfather used to let us help him fill up all the cups with grape juice for communion. This Sunday was different. I was finally old enough to understand what the children’s leaders were talking about. For the first time, the significance of Easter clicked. I had gone to church most of my life, but the understanding of who Jesus was didn’t settle into my heart until then. 

Flash forward into my teen years, and I never really had to think much about religion. I went to church, I knew God existed, and I was confident and comforted in that knowledge. But as I got older, I felt the pull to fit in with the crowd. So I tried. But I couldn’t be bad even if I wanted to. The worst thing I ever did was drink alcohol before I turned 21.  

When I was a junior in high school, at church on a Wednesday night, I felt a conviction to rededicate my life and get back on track with God. So, I did.  

I spent the next eight years living my life to the book. THE book. I lost several friends because of my faith. I was labeled a Jesus-freak. 

When I didn’t get into the college I dreamed of, I felt it was a curveball but also a part of God’s plan. I pivoted and went to a private Christian university. 

Not all my college years were a bust, but they were full of challenges. I changed my major my sophomore year because I couldn’t pass Organic Chem, which crushed my dreams of becoming a doctor. That same year, both of my parents were diagnosed with cancer. I was stuck two hours away at school, helpless while they faced it alone back home.  

Despite feeling like my life was blowing up around me, I clung to my faith, believing it was all for a reason. 

I spent five years at Anderson University, studying hard, praying daily, attending church every Sunday, chapel every Wednesday, and BCM every Thursday. I surrounded myself with people who were supposed to better my journey with Jesus. 

By the time I graduated, my parents were cancer-free, and I had earned my bachelor’s degree. Life was good. Prayer works.  

After graduation, I moved home, got a job I loved, and became an aunt. 

Life was moving along. 

Now I realize I’m giving all this backstory and right now, you’re not exactly sure why. Am I writing a memoir, what’s going on here? 

Well, the point to all of this is to help you understand me as a person, to understand my intentions and my beliefs. To know who I am at my core, because what you may read further down may surprise you. Or not, I don’t know. 

Looking back, I saw the cracks forming in my belief system even then. 

I’ve always felt misunderstood, a product of being an introvert. A lot of my thoughts and feelings stay in my head. People either get me or they don’t. That sense of being perpetually misunderstood only grew stronger as I transitioned into adulthood.  

In 2016, the world seemed to tilt on its axis. The person running for President was—well, not a quality candidate. But the Christians in my life—Sunday school teachers, pastors, and friends—were adamant he was the “right” choice.  

At that point, being conservative was all I’d known. It had always aligned with my belief system. So, I overlooked everything that felt wrong to be what I thought was right. I judged the underdog. I went against those less fortunate. And deep down, what I felt was regret.  

It was during that presidency that I started to question everything. Working in a career where I encountered real people with real stories gave me a new perspective. And for the first time in my life, I was traveling to new places and experiencing life outside of my bubble. 

You see, attending a Christian college can feel like living in a fishbowl. You’re inside, shielded from the outside world. But once I left the fishbowl, I began hearing stories and experiencing life from people with different worldviews and faiths.  

My generation (the millennial) is often labeled the “digital natives” because we were the first generation to grow up having access to the Internet. And in school, we were required to provide 8-10 reliable sources from anything we found online, and it couldn’t even be Wikipedia or a .com source. So you can conclude that my whole life has been about researching and providing reliable sources for all facts. And now, I was doing that in the real world. 

Looking retrospectively, I saw how my belief system and worldview no longer aligned with the ideals I’d been taught, nor with the political leaders many Christians were championing as “sent by God.” 

Even still, I pretty much lived a quiet life in those years, just going through the motions and doing what I believed to be true, such as volunteering every Sunday at my church to help run the A/V. I prayed daily, read my bible each night, and continued to do what I had always been taught to be right. 

Then the pandemic hit in 2020, and everything unraveled.  

I’ve lived with anxiety and OCD for most of my young adulthood. One of those things is Contamination OCD, which is a form of OCD that causes intense fear and paranoia about sicknesses. And not just a common cold, but a sickness that puts people you love in danger of death. My brain was already hardwired to spiral into worst-case scenarios, and COVID-19 accelerated that. A global pandemic was my worst nightmare. 

I did everything I could to feel safe—wore masks, washed my hands obsessively, wiped down groceries. Yet the people I once admired—church leaders, friends, and Christian mentors—mocked those precautions.  

People took a global pandemic and made it a spectacle. They made it political, when it was simply a matter of public health. 

And I’m a person who went to college with the full intention of going to medical school. I believe in science. I respect people who dedicate their lives to saving others and doing research. I respect experts and understand that they know more than me. 

I watched in horror and sadness as people from my church posted things on social media about “sheep who decided to wear masks to protect themselves” or how if I came to church on Sunday, I shouldn’t wear a mask there to protect myself because it “wasn’t necessary.”  

I’m downplaying a lot of what was said, frankly because I’ve blocked out most of it but my favorite post of all ....”The government can’t make decisions about what I do with my body,” says a man who held a leadership position in the church. 

The irony was not lost on me.

I never stepped foot in that church again. 

I lost respect for so many “Christians.” And it wasn’t about whether they chose to wear a mask or get a vaccine, because I still believe everyone deserves a choice. But it was the way that “love thy neighbor” went completely out the window without a second glance. 

It was the way that the church didn’t even try to protect those who were vulnerable in the community that they serve. The elderly members in the congregation? They didn’t seem to care if they lived or died. 

The start of the pandemic were some of the darkest times in my life. I had never felt anxiety that strongly before. I had never felt more lost or ostracized.

Because I was taking health precautions, I was suddenly labeled a sheep or less of a Christian. My own salvation was questioned because I chose to wear a mask and get a vaccine. 

I spent a lot of my time trying to understand my beliefs at this point because I was NOT seeing Christ in church. I was not seeing the teachings of Jesus lived out by those I once admired. And all of it was being exacerbated by the sitting president. 

I went down a rabbit hole and ended up reading several books about deconstruction and navigating religion in a politically vile world. 

What I concluded is that I still love Jesus. But the Jesus that I was taught to love was not the Jesus that is being celebrated in the church. 

I saw someone say this once before so I'm going to paraphrase what I can remember in a few paragraphs below…

——

I was taught to pursue the kingdom of God first, yet everyone I saw was encouraging others to pursue America first.

I was taught to proclaim Christ as Lord of all, but when it came time to talk of real power, all I was hearing “Christians” talk about is presidents.

I was taught about purity and respect, yet watched church leaders and my pastor celebrate political leaders who continued to spout unwholesome remarks about women and people of color. 

I was taught that violence isn't the way to solve our problems and to love our enemies, yet I watched people who claim to be “Christians” storm the capitol on January 6 while trying to overthrow the government. 

I was taught to spread the gospel, yet so much of what I heard from Christians is the spreading of political ideologies.

I was taught to welcome the stranger as a friend and help those in need, yet I saw “Christians” talk so disparagingly about immigrants, refugees, and those in need of welfare, even though Jesus specifically helped people just like that. 

I was taught to repent, but when anyone mentioned wanting to repent from racism, sexism and nationalism, people treated us as if we are just politically misguided rather than gospel determined.

I was taught that all life is sacred, yet it seems as if it only applies to the unborn. When it comes to supporting life outside the womb, and making sure children don’t get shot while going to school for example, those lives don’t matter as much. 

I was taught that relationships were the way of the gospel and it had nothing to do with works or legalism, yet all I saw or heard is talk about working to get the right people in political power and to shape the legal system in favor of what we value.

——-

These contradictions became impossible for me to ignore. 

My generation has been called lazy, entitled, and been shamed for leaving the church. But I think that the church has become lazy and entitled over political power.

Which is why I realized that there's less and less room for my generation in evangelicalism because there's more of a desire to be a Christian nation than there is to be a Christian church.

I’ve seen praise from Christians over the recent re-election of Donald Trump and it leaves me wondering yet again, what would Jesus do? 

“There are six things the Lord hates, seven that are detestable to him: haughty eyes, a lying tongue, hands that shed innocent blood, a heart that devises wicked schemes, feet that are quick to rush into evil, a false witness who pours out lies and a person who stirs up conflict in the community.” - Proverbs 6:16-19

Here’s what we as a nation now have to come to terms with: Lives will be drastically changed forever. Racism, bigotry, sexism, homophobia, and hatred will continue to run rampant. And your daughters, sisters, nieces, or granddaughters may now grow up in a world where the lives of women are tossed to the side and disregarded.

This has weighed heavily on my heart for the past eight years, and I’ve deeply mourned the loss of the church I once knew. Not just the small "c" of my home church—though I miss that dearly—but the big "C" of Church as a religious construct. I’ve grieved it.

I’ve tried to tell myself that I’m wrong and I’ve tried to reckon my beliefs with what’s going on in the political world. But here’s what I know…people like me aren’t leaving the church because we didn’t learn enough about Jesus. We’re leaving the church because the church and its leaders trained us enough to develop a sense for truth and justice. You let me read the words of Jesus. And I got it. 

It is surprising to me, that is it surprising to you, that a person like me who grew up in church, doing mission trips to help underserved communities, and someone who spent five years at a Christian University studying the teachings of Jesus…would advocate for the less fortunate, the poor, the sick, and the foreigner.

If you’ve made it this far, congrats. I fully expect many people not to continue reading. But if you are still here, it must mean you at least somewhat care what I have to say, so here it is:

My name is Allison, and I am a person who feels empathy for others, no matter who they are. I am a person who loves and cares deeply for the people who reciprocate that same love and care to me. I am a person who will not put the price of groceries over basic human rights for my friends. I am a person who will pray without ceasing and love my neighbor no matter what the color of their skin or their sexual orientation is. 

And if there's one thing that this election is making me realize, it's that I am so confident in my beliefs. I love the empathy that Jesus taught me to have for others. I am grateful that the anger and sadness I feel right now is because I have deep compassion for others. And I love that I voted to move forward instead of voting to stay divided. 

If you’re a friend or family member, know that I love you dearly. And if you disagree with what I’ve shared, I’d simply say: I’m sorry you disagree. But I’m not sorry for being raised to have empathy.

With love,

Allison