Why am I here? I’ve been pondering Why questions a lot lately. Although I often struggle to find motivation to write, there’s some solace in putting my thoughts out there, even if just for myself. When I timestamp my thoughts in writing, I commit to my personal goal of introspection, reasoning, and self-improvement. Today’s Why question is: Why did I become a Supernatural Atheist? Explaining my answer might take a while, so let’s start with the first step.
In reality, my journey to this way of thinking spans decades. I’ve tried to pinpoint an exact moment when I had my “Aha!” realization and declared, “Well, I’ll be damned, I’m an Atheist.” Like many, Atheism evolved in me over years of personal trials and reflections.
Nearly 28 years ago, both professionally and personally, I was at an all-time high. I’d graduated from college late, nearly 30, while juggling night school and raising a family. I’d landed my dream job, was earning more money than I ever imagined, and had a happy, healthy family, a loving wife, and a lake home in southern Indiana. My wife and I shared a faith in God that we passed down to our children. The old me would call myself “Blessed.” I was even the designated prayer at family gatherings, embodying the Catholic Father figure.
When my wife expressed a desire to help her sister conceive, I was taken aback. What did this mean, and why did she want to do this? My wife, inherently kind and decent, aimed to please. Her sister had survived Hodgkin’s Lymphoma in high school, leaving her unable to conceive naturally. Looking back, this was one of the first times I began questioning my faith. How could my deeply religious wife defy our faith to assist her sister when the Catholic Church clearly didn’t support it? Months passed, my wife underwent fertility treatments, and I found myself grappling with the idea of her eggs being used to conceive a child with my brother-in-law—a morally complicated situation. I struggled to pray to a God who seemingly disapproved of our actions. Instead, I resigned to God’s will. After multiple failed attempts at embryo implantation, I interpreted it as a sign that God didn’t want my sister in law to have a child, maybe even causing her cancer in the first place. My confirmation bias was reinforced. I confided in my Christ Renews His Parish group, seeking answers in the Bible, only to find further confirmation bias. This incident marked the beginning of my religious doubts.
Shortly after our attempts to help her sister, my wife and I decided to have a fourth child. Fueled by fertility drugs, we were overjoyed to learn we were expecting twins. It was both thrilling and terrifying—our family of five was about to become seven. However, during a routine ultrasound at 12 weeks, we received devastating news: one of the twins had died in the womb. We were blindsided, consumed by grief and guilt. Were we being punished by God for trying to help my wife’s sister? Were we foolish to have pursued this path?
Fast forward and at 25 weeks, our remaining baby seemed healthy, but further scans revealed concerning discrepancies in bone development. Our pregnancy was deemed high-risk, and we faced more frequent ultrasounds and medical tests. An amniocentesis yielded inconclusive results, adding to our anxiety. Our journey became a rollercoaster of emotions, clinging to the belief that God had a plan.
During another ultrasound, we were informed that our baby, whom we believed to be a girl, might actually be a boy with a severe condition called Hypospadias. Our world crumbled. Had our actions led to divine punishment? Had my casual remark about preferring a boy or a girl but nothing in between offended God? We were at a loss.
This event marked a turning point for me personally. In retrospection, it was a true turning point in the lives of my entire family. It was also at this point I began to think, reason, and question and slowly remove my God glasses. As I explored the possibility of why these things happened, my cognitive biases started to dissolve. And thus began my journey of introspection, curiosity, inquisition and profound doubt.