Andy Livinggood (5:04)
So I was raised in a very conservative Christian household. We started out as Methodists when I was a real little kid. And then in second grade, we went to vacation Bible school and converted to Southern Baptists. And we were there all the time, like, three days a week minimum at church. Like, you had worship on Wednesday, you had church on Sunday, and Sunday night. Tuesdays were visitation night, where you'd go and visit the people that came to church for the first time. We were there all the time, and I was into it. I'd read my Bible every day. It was, you know, as Southern Baptist, it was very much like, you have a personal relationship with Jesus Christ. So my parents would talk to me as if, like, he was a person that they knew from down the street. Oh, well, if you prayed about it, well, just give it up to Jesus and he'll take care of you and Jesus a little bit more than Jesus loves you. Like, it was like, no, he's a real person. He knows everything about you and he's your best friend. I'd go to church camp, like, every single summer, and I was the guy that was singing with his eyes shut and his hands lifted up. You know, I was the guy that would witness to his friends. Like, in fact, I got the reputation of, like, don't talk to Andy because he'll bring up God very, very quickly. I never had a doubt. In fact, it was like, well into my 20s, before I first met anybody that was like, no, I'm not a Christian. And it blew me away. I didn't. Like, that never occurred to me that there was ever an option to not be a Christian. The other thing that's really important to know is that I am my father's son. My dad and I, more than anybody else in my family, have a weird connection because we are basically the same person, similar sense of hum, and we like the same things. We like the same type of TV shows and movies and books and things like that. I think that I always look back that, like, my dad was excited that he had somebody to finally share this stuff with. I remember it was second grade. He's like, you're gonna watch the Star wars trilogy. And we went and rented them, and we watched all three of them. And the thing I do remember is I got in trouble. I did something. I don't even remember what it was. But I wasn't allowed to watch Return of the Jedi until the next week. And I was so ticked off. I mean, like, it would go to, like, all sorts of nerdy things like, oh, you should read Lord of the Rings and stuff like that. Which, again, looking back in such a Christian household, seems weird to me that, like, that would be okay. We would go see movies. We'd go see. We'd go to the midnight show for Star Wars. We drew the line at dressing up, but we would go and we would do it all the time. It would always. We'd make an evening out of it. So I was in my mid to late twenties when I started having my first kind of doubts with faith. And it started out simply of just like, well, all right, some of this doesn't make any sense. And we were raised that the Bible was the word of God. It's not. It wasn't allegorical. It was like, if the Bible said Noah had an ark with all the animals on it, Noah did. But as I got older, I started kind of. I don't think that's. There's a lot of species out there. I don't think that's possible. And, you know, that would lead to all these other, like, finding contradictions in the Bible and going like, well, if it's the word of God, he shouldn't have contradictions. He knows what he's talking about. And that sort of started the seed of doubt again. The first time in my entire life that, like, doubt would come up. And it was the book of Job that really was kind of like, well, wait a minute. Because in that story, Job's a righteous man, and the devil goes to God and says, well, look, he's righteous because he's got all this stuff. So God allows Satan to kill his family, take away his possessions, like, leave him with nothing. And, you know, in the Bible, the moral story is he still praises God and God rewards him at the end. But for me, the thing that immediately stuck out was like, wait a minute. It wasn't that he just, like, took his cattle. Took, you know, Burnt down his house. Like, he allowed Job's family to die. They were the sacrificial bunt to prove a point. Like, if a person does that, they are a sociopath. And that was sort of the moment of, like, really starting to question this thing. And it just. Everything started adding up. I just stopped believing. And I remember the first time that I said it out loud that there is no God. I don't believe in God, and there's nobody else around. I was by myself, and I said it, and I was waiting for that moment of just, like, crushing guilt and shame. And I didn't feel that. I felt relief the first time I could say it out loud. I think one of the things that I really liked the most once I kind of came to grips with my lack of faith was that life is so beautifully complex and horrific and amazing, that existence is enough. I don't like the idea of this being a test for the next thing, I go outside and I see a beautiful sunset. That's awesome. And I don't have to see, like, oh, yeah, there's a guy that made this, and there's all this other stuff, and there's gonna be paradise beyond this, and you're gonna spend time with him for me to appreciate that sunset. And there was really. There was, like, this wedge kind of growing between me and my parents because I was going back and forth on, should I tell them or not. Sharing my lack of faith weighed on me more than sharing my faith ever did. But it really started to kind of fracture our relationship. I couldn't talk to them about anything. If I had something really amazing happen in my life and I told him about it. Oh, you know, you should thank God. That's awesome that he, you know, he provided for you, and, you know, praise God. It's like, well, you know, I'm the guy that decided to start working out and lose £100. Like, do I get none of that credit? So I couldn't talk about anything good. And what was even worse is I couldn't go to them for help or advice, because if I came to them with a problem, anything, their advice was always, did you pray about it? And I'm always kind of like, well, let's assume that I did, but what's the practical advice? And there was no practical advice, because it was all, just leave it up to God. He's got a plan, he wants the best for you, so just leave it up to him. So now I can't talk to them about good stuff. I can't talk to them about bad stuff. I have nothing to say to them. I live, like, 10 minutes from my parents, but I felt like I lived across the country. So then one day, my dad and I both noticed about the same time because we called each other and left. You know, we were. Oh, yeah, you saw it. You saw it, too. The local art house was showing Metropolis, which is a really cool, groundbreaking, black and white silent science fiction movie. Of course, I wanted to do like, we used to. Like, I always remember, like, let's go do dinner and then go see the movie. So we went to Outback, and my dad and I are eating dinner. And it is small talk. That's all I have to talk about with my dad. It was like we were strangers because there was nothing deeper to talk about. So the whole time this is going on, I'm having that internal debate again. You should tell him, you know. No, don't tell him. Don't tell him. Like, why? What do you have to gain? And I'm going back and forth, and I finally start kind of working up the courage of, like, no, I think I'm gonna tell him. So I take a deep breath and I swallow really hard, and I tell. I say, I'm an atheist. I don't believe in God anymore. And he is just, like, blindsided. He has no idea what to say. And we sit there in silence for a few seconds, and I realize I felt great. I really did. I was like, oh, this weight's off my chest. I feel so good. And then I looked at my dad and I could tell that I hurt him so much. And I feel horrible. Not because. Not because of the fact that I'm an atheist, but because I told him this is the moment that I could get disowned. It's. I mean, as much as they believe and as strongly as I believe, like, this is the moment my dad could, you know, I have no son. That's it. And just write me off. Like, he tells me that he would probably be able to accept this more if I told him that I was agnostic or that maybe I just was into a different religion. And I told him, like, well, I've been thinking about it for a year, and, no, I'm not either one of those things. I'm an atheist. And that's when I know. I heard him. Because now he knows that for a year I've been struggling with this and haven't told him. This was the first time in my entire life that I saw disappointment on his face. And this includes, like, stupid things. I did as a teenager when I'd get in trouble, there was always. There was never disappointment. It was always like, I'm upset with you, but I'm not disappointed. And I saw disappointment. So we pay for the check and we go back to the car. We're driving to the movie theater. It's that, like, deafening, awkward silence where neither one. Because we didn't have much to say before, and now we really don't have anything to say. So I'm scrolling through the radio, just trying to find anything that'll just fill the sound. And it's on scan and it stops on a religious station. And I'm very quickly turning that to the next thing because we don't need that right now. So we go and we sit down in the movie and like, from the very first frame, it is clear this is not the original version of Metropolis. Because in the 80s they re released it. It's colorized. They got like, Bonnie Tyler and Queen to do the soundtrack. So it's less of this, like groundbreaking sci fi classic and more of like a rock opera that's also colorized. And my dad is a purist when it comes to old movies. I remember as a kid, anytime they'd have like, the, like, they're showing It's a Wonderful Life. If it was the colorized version, my dad would call it the Communist It's a Wonderful Life. And I lean over to my dad and I go, I think this is the colorized version. And I could feel him kind of tense up. He's not digging this. I'm kind of enjoying it because it's kind of fun. My dad is not. And like, you don't have to, like, really look that hard to see that he's not. So the movie finishes and we walk out and my dad marches over to where the poster was because the poster was for the black and white one. And he's like, this isn't what they advertised. And he's really like, he's upset legitimately. So, like. And he's just like, this is loud. Like, I can't believe this. Like, he wants to kind of complain, but my dad's not that type of guy. He's never gonna be the guy that's like, I want to see the manager. So we're just going out to the car. And before we get to the car, I just start laughing and I can't stop. I am like, just uncontrollably giggling and laughing. My dad stops and he goes, what's so funny? And I just look at him. And I go, you have had such a shitty night. And I don't. I try not to curse around my parents. I certainly didn't do it when I was a Christian. And even now I try not to curse around my parents just as a courtesy because I know they don't really like that, but I did that night. I just told them, you've had a shitty night. And my dad just kind of stares at me for a second and he starts laughing. And that's when I kind of knew that we would be okay.
