I remember, from the time I was in third grade to the time I was fifteen, being almost constantly afraid of going to hell. I remember praying, when I was smaller, that God would not let me die before I knew all of my sins, so I could repent of them all. I was afraid that I would die, not knowing that I had sinned, and so have unconfessed sin and go to hell.
When I was older, I was scared to death of losing my faith and therefore, going to hell. I had heard very bad things about teenagers, that they were frivolous and didn't care about God at all. And I was scared to be one. I was scared, as my thirteenth birthday approached, because I had heard that teens were bad. I didn't want to be a teenager, because teenagers went astray, lost their faith, and disrespected their parents--when they weren't doing drugs, having unprotected sex and getting pregnant, or becoming Satanists. What should have been a purely happy time, looking forward to my birthday and later just enjoying life, I dreaded immensely. After all, in a church play in which I was involved at age thirteen, I remember very vividly that literally ALL of the teenage characters in the play went to hell!
But through all of that, I realize now, I wasn't truly afraid of hell. There was a much deeper, more sinister fear, one I still struggle with today, in spite of not believing that hell is likely to exist. Underneath it all, I was truly afraid of being a bad person. Underneath my fear of eternal torment was the fear of being someone who deserves eternal torment. (And it didn't help that I was told I did, anyway, no matter if the speaker believed themselves to be just as bad!)
I still fear being a bad person, and it comes out in so many subtle ways. I nearly hate myself if something bad happens to one of my animals, even if it's not my fault. And even if it's small, like the cat being trapped in my car for a few hours at night, or my disabled chicken possibly getting thirsty.
I worry sometimes that I don't work hard enough if I don't have a traditional or full-time job. I feel compelled to help people as much as I can, even if I need to help myself, first.
This also comes out in my perfectionist tendencies. I failed my driver's license test five times, and each time, it was devastating. It was hard to ascribe that to being a bad person, but I felt like I was a failure, not my driving (even though I wasn't "supposed" to feel that way). That I simply couldn't measure up to what was expected of me--what I expected of myself. It didn't help that I didn't want to take my driving test, for years, that I had a real phobia, because...well, can you blame me? I was homeschooled, too, so failing so publicly, in front of a stranger, was especially humiliating.
I felt like I should "just do it," and I felt so weak for not being "tough" enough to punish myself like this.
I think a lot of what reinforced my fear of being a "failure" or "loser" was my snooty aunt. She seems to, even now, measure the success of her children by how much unlike me they are. I remember when my youngest cousin was fifteen, and showed no interest in getting his learner's permit, that she blurted out, "He's going to be just like AJ!" right in front of my mother. My mom has never thought of me as a failure, and she didn't care what her sister said. But I think that was so telling. My extended family is very close, so it's hard not to care what they think. To this day, I sometimes find myself measuring myself against what I think she will think, even though she is not involved in my day-to-day life. It's a hard habit to break.
I must have gotten the notion that hell is where people go who hate God, and so I thought that if I went to hell, it must mean that I was a selfish, hateful person. A bad person.
I saw how Christians did not believe people, when they said they didn't hate God. When they said that they did not simply want to sin. That they weren't selfish, or hypocrites, or too self-centered to give their lives to Jesus.
These people were not believed about their own moral state, about their very thoughts and feelings. They were assumed to be lying, or lying to themselves. And they were condemned in the name of "discernment." And of course, Christians expected to be believed, when they said they weren't judging or condemning, just "telling the truth in love." But it wasn't the truth. In order for Christians to be telling the truth, all unbelievers had to be evil, hateful, selfish liars--ironically, what Christians claimed to be before being saved. The Christians thought they could throw stones BECAUSE OF their sin, not in spite of it, or because they had none.
So I didn't even believe myself, or believe that I was good, in spite of doing bad things, or in spite of a part of me not wanting to pray or read my bible that day, etc. I assumed that I was lying to myself. I was not allowed to trust my own instincts, even in spite of what other people said.
So when my brain was tired of reading the bible--in King James for a while, no less--I automatically assumed that it was my bad "flesh" trying to get out of reading God's word. I assumed that the devil was tempting me, and I was being susceptible. And this is just one example. I had severe insomnia for years, because I was so vigilant about my mind and not having one un-Christian thought, that I could not simply relax and let myself go.
I didn't realize that sometimes, it's hard to know what the right thing is. Even with all of the rules of Christianity, where your "relationship" with God is defined not by spending time with God, or even just talking to God (as if he answers back), but by how you live your life, whether your clothes are modest enough (though my family and I thought ankle-length skirts were cult-ish), and whether you can witness and have perfectly Christian conversations all the time.
It's hard for Christians to see prayer, meditation, and bible study, so they judge whether someone is a "real" Christian by outward appearances, or by statistics about said prayer and bible study--how many pages read, how long one prayed or "listened to God" or choose-your-euphemism, how "great" was the spiritual experience described. No other "relationship" is measured in that way.
Or by how one party lives or their personality. No one says that I don't love my mother, if I cuss, even if my mother hates cussing (she doesn't). But they certainly say that I don't love God, if I cuss, because they think God doesn't like cussing.
My biggest fear, to this day, is being a bad person, or being a "failure," or not responsible enough. But my mother never thinks that I'm a bad person, or that I'm a "failure." And there are many others in my life whom I'm sure wouldn't think that, either--even if my uppity Christian aunt isn't one of them. So I try to see myself through the eyes of people who love me, and who accept me and like me just the way I am. If this was someone else's life, I would not be judging them, I would be happy for them! So I try to be easy on myself. And I'm getting much better at it, though I seem to keep finding little insecurities every day.
Sometimes I tell myself, over and over in my own mind, "I am good. I am good." And it feels like I am getting high off of those words. I was never taught to believe that, not by my mainstream, "normal" evangelical Christian school, anyway. It was even frowned upon. And I'm sure they would wonder why I had such low self-esteem for so many years, and why I was depressed.
I'm supposed to love myself because God loves me so much and made me, and blah, blah, blah. But I'm also supposed to know just how fundamentally bad and depraved and evil I am, at least on my own. I'm supposed to love myself and have joy because God makes no mistakes--but I'm also supposed to hate my "sinful flesh." I'm supposed to love myself, while believing myself to be fundamentally unlovable. I'm supposed to love myself, while also hating a part of myself that I can't just get rid or choose not to have. (LGBT people, does this sound familiar?)
But love cannot be mixed with hate. The hate is the part that will shine through. Especially if the person you both love and hate is yourself.
The fear of hell does not scare me much at all, now. It took years, and my faith being "broken," to get to this place, but I've finally arrived. But the fear of being a bad person, lingers, and it will probably take years to get rid of completely--if I even can get rid of it completely.
I wonder how many other people, from both religious and non-religious backgrounds, have this fear, as well. I know some Christians who take it for granted that they are good and moral, because Jesus makes them that way. And I know some atheists who try to help others, as much as they can. Perhaps part of that is really wanting to think of themselves as good people, or perhaps they simply like to help others, in whatever form that takes for them. Who knows?
In any case, I do believe that most people do not think of the question, "Am I afraid of being a bad person?" But I think they should. Because I believe more people struggle with this, and don't realize it, than people that do not--especially if they are or have been very religious.
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