My parents took my sisters and I to church when I was 5 years old. Well, actually it was sunday school. They didn't say that we had to attend. It was just something new to try since we had just moved to town that winter. There were other kids to play with, activities to participate in, social functions, and so we continued to go. We didn't stay with that particular church, and I don't recall the reason why. I do know that at that point I did indeed believe that god existed, along with Santa, the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny, just like any other gullible 5 year old.

When I was 9 years old my parents took us to a Lutheran church. I met a boy named Tim in my sunday school class and we became instant buddies. Tim was my primary motivation for going to church. We had much in common, and church was the only place we would see one another. Tim's parents were very religious and he attended sunday school, church, youth group, bible study and confirmation classes, and as a result so did I. Thus I received a very thorough christian education complete with a cover to cover reading of the bible, intense group studies, oral exams, and eventually confirmation and baptism.

But there was a small problem. Through out my entire church experience I had the feeling of being at a magic show where every single person in attendance is completely, utterly convinced that the magician onstage is indeed performing genuine magic, except me. I was the one guy sitting there, applauding and smiling and nodding my head so as not to stand out, but yet inside feeling completely unconvinced of what I was seeing. It just seemed silly. Why does anyone believe this? I'd read the bible, myself, and it just sounded like a fairy tale. It didn’t make sense that the story of bible could actually be real. I couldn’t find the words to express why it didn’t convince me. It just didn't.

By the time I was 12 years old my doubt was like an anchor tied to my feet each time I attempted to pass through the church doors. I knew I was just going through the motions. It was like putting on a sweaty, ill fitting mask once a week. I finally told my parents that I was done with church.

I could write a book on the sheer, utter coolness of my Mom and Dad. But they aren't the topic of this blog so I'll try to explain them in as few a words as possible. My Dad is a former Marine Sergeant who met my Mom when she was waitressing in a diner in Kansas. She had been on a road trip from Colorado when her car broke down and she had to take a job to get some money. We were never rich, never really poor. My parents were hard working, honest, good people. As far as religion was concerned their belief was so casual and open to interpretation that you could have very well called them theists or agnostics instead of christians, but those words were alien to us at that time. We never said grace or talked about religion in my house. Christmas was for giving gifts. Easter was for finding eggs. When my parents took my sisters and I to church, they dropped us off and went out to eat. When I was 16 and my Mom found a copy of Slayer's "hell awaits" next to my record player, she shook her head at the gory demons-killing-angels artwork, then sprayed the album jacket with dust cleaner, wiped it off, and placed it gently back where she found it. When I was 14 and I decided to give up playing baritone in the school band and switch to playing bass guitar in a heavy metal band, my country-western loving dad went to the music store and bought me a guitar strap for my bass. Every friend, and every girlfriend, I've ever had has told me that I have the most awesome parents on the face of the earth. And their right. So you can probably guess, by now, that when I told them I didn't believe in god, anymore, they shrugged and went right back to fixing dinner and reading the paper. My grades mattered. My curfew mattered. Being a good, law abiding, tax paying, responsible individual mattered. My choice of whether or not to believe in god did not. At least not in the comfort of my own home.

It was 1982 in Kansas. All I knew, as a 12 year old boy in a medium sized midwest town, was that every single other person on the planet worshiped god, except me. I didn't even know that there was a word for my non-belief. I knew I wasn't a satanist because I was certain that the devil was as fictional as god, himself. But if you didn't believe in god and you weren't a devil worshiper, what was there? I had no clue. So outside of my home I kept my mouth shut. I didn't know what else to do.

Then came 10th grade biology class, and my introduction to The Big Bang and Evolution. I was stunned. I was blown away. There actually was a theory completely different from the bible. And not only different, but it was actually believable. It actually made sense. And it had absolutely nothing to do with god. I wasn't crazy. I wasn't stupid. Most importantly I wasn’t alone, because if those theories existed and were bring taught in a classroom, surely that meant that there were far more non-believers in the world than I had dreamt possible. The door to my imagined intellectual cell had finally opened.

The years went by and little by little, bit by bit, I collected fragments of theories, portions of ideas and concepts that continued to build upon and solidify my understanding of the doubt that I had felt as a young boy. The nagging questions that my pastor had tried so hard to avoid were being answered. The thousands upon thousands of pieces of that huge puzzle began to fall into place. And when the internet finally fell into my lap I was introduced to something faces, words, voices, opinions and support of those that I had known for so long simply had to be out there; others like me. Atheists.

During my twenties I was the typical "angry" atheist. I was always looking for a fight. I would jump at the chance to confront a christian about their beliefs. It earned me respect and camaraderie in some, bitter enemies in others. As 30 drew near I found myself becoming more apathetic. I was still annoyed by the fanatical nature of christians around me, but I was dead certain of my own convictions. I had become comfortable and confident in myself and my place in the world. If just didn't seem worth the effort to fight against the ignorance of the faithful, and I had other things to focus on; my son, my wonderful wife, my music. I was in a cocoon of self content. But the world around me was changing. The voices of the religious right were growing louder. My blissful corner of the world was slowly being invaded. Whereas at one time it had seemed that I could simply turn my back on the foolishness of the religious, now it seemed as though there was a tapping on my shoulder and a voice saying "this is what we are, this is what we believe, this is our america, and if you don’t like it you can leave". I rubbed my eyes, blinked the sleep away, and took a look around me. And I realized that I had been quiet for far too long.

When the words first popped into my head it was like a trumpet blast on a battlefield. I was searching for a lyrical concept for some new music I had written, music that sounded like an army charging over a hill headlong into the thick of battle. I had never written a song about my atheism, before. I had heard a few, most of which had a dreary angst ridden sound to them. Dark, ominous songs sung by goth types in heavy makeup. They felt desperate and sad to me. I wanted a different type of atheist song. I wanted a song that felt as strong and proud and sure of itself as I did, an anthem. I wasn't content to be just a small voice begging for a fair chance in a cruel world. I was defiant and unafraid. And I had a dream. A dream of a Godless America.

As I write this the music video for my song "Godless America" is nearing 10,000 views on youtube. It's received almost 500 comments, the majority of them from angry christians. They tell me that I'm mean, aggressive, hostile and bitter. They say that I'm oppressing them. They say that I'm ungrateful to Jesus for his sacrifice. They say I'm going to hell. They say that I'm a foul mouthed child who doesn't understand god or the bible. They call me arrogant, stubborn and foolish. They tell me that I can't know for sure that god doesn't exist. They tell me that I'm immoral. I couldn't care less what they say. Because I know I'm right.

There is no god. There never was. The bible is a man-made distortion of history and nature. Theists will cry foul and insist that there is no way I can possibly say with complete certainty that god does not exist. They will demand proof. They will demand evidence, arguments, examples, debate. They will quote scripture and argue from design. And I could pour myself into an exhausting exchange of accusations and arguments, quoting endlessly from Darwin, Occam, Hitchens, Harris, Dawkins and Stenger. We could carry on with this relentless back-and-forth every minute of every hour of every day for years. And do I occasionally fall victim to the rehashing of the same old arguments? Sure. I'm only human, and I’m not above the snide remark at the expense of another. But in the end it all comes back to me as a child, sitting in a pew during church service, thinking to myself "why does anyone believe this?". Why, indeed.

So go ahead. Call me arrogant. Call me a fool. But we both know who the true fool is. It's you, the one sitting in that church pew nodding your head and mouthing "amen". It's you, the one pretending that the big bad scientists are trying to fill our heads with lies. It's you, the one insisting that your personal beliefs aren’t hurting anyone and your particular brand of religion isn't oppressing anyone; it's always those other fanatics that cause all the problems. It's you, the one who is certain that your god is real, simply because he says so. It's you, and you know the truth just as well as I. God is a lie.

A lie that has poisoned the human race for centuries. A lie that spreads fear and ignorance. A lie that creates prejudice and animosity. A lie that impedes learning and growth of science for the sole purpose of perpetuating it’s own selfish agenda. A lie that beats down self esteem and pride and replaces it with a false sense of security and purpose. A lie that lays claim to all natural wonders while belittling the true beauty of a universe that it’s authors could never have imagined. A lie that disguises itself as an open door, and systematically closes once you have passed through. A lie used to justify corruption and condemn dissent. A lie that plays upon the most basic fears of a small child. A lie meant to imprison the mind, heart and imagination of every man, woman and child. A lie that kills.

Call me arrogant. Call me a fool. Call me anything you want. But I won’t live that lie. And I won’t keep my mouth shut.