Why I am no longer a Jehovah's Witness

So...I sit down ready to write and suddenly I am unsure how to proceed. After a moment of thought, I guess I can go on. This is my confession, after all. I suppose there's no wrong way to do it.

So in the end, I am not addressing this to anyone in particular. I don’t know who you are or how our lives crossed paths. Perhaps we are strangers. Perhaps we were lifelong friends until that no longer became possible. Perhaps I was in your congregation or was in your circuit. Or maybe we worked together. I cannot know who you are, but I have an image in my mind of the people I am writing to. The people I loved- still love- and respected.

I suspect you may read this with trepidation, or even critically, given the constant warnings we all grew up with against listening to those who have left the organization. I understand that, truly. Trust me. Even after I was disfellowshipped 6 years ago, it was 5 years before I let myself even think about listening to or getting to know those who had left. 'Fear' is the right word. It was something that came from 45 years of repeatedly being warned how dangerous it can be.

And yet, here I am now, on the other side, writing as a person who has left the organization. Even though I was disfellowshipped 6 years ago, I never stopped considering myself a Witness. Never. I still believed this was God’s organization. It was just me that failed. I that hadn’t lived up to Jehovah.

That is not to say that I didn’t have questions along the way. As you will see, I did. But this was my world- from my birth on. It was all I knew. Was the nest, the haven of love and safety I had grown up in. I had given my life to Jehovah- and to my brothers and sisters. From my teenage years on especially, this had been my life.

Michael, Tamara, Bill, Ma, Connor and Me

All my closest friends, the people who knew my heart, were here. Why would I want to leave? To be cut off from my loving mother, from my brother, my step father? To be viewed as dead, not spoken to by people with whom I had spoken every day of my life? To no longer have those precious relationships with the men and women who were my family?

To be looked at as the worst kind of person a human can be: someone who has turned their back on Jehovah and his organization.

Why would I do this?

So it is my faint hope to reach out to these dear ones and explain. Not to convince. It is not my place to try to tell you what is right or wrong; not to expose things or pass judgement;not to try to “wake” you up to "the truth".

I just want you to know why I, in February of 2019, finally realized I no longer believed; why I realized I was not one of Jehovah's witnesses; why I have taken such a drastic and irrevocable step.

I have made some small efforts to reach out to those who knew me to try to explain to some of them. But I realize that there are simply too many of you out there.

Please bear with me because I know this will be long and rambling. I will jump around here and there in time. Please be patient.

Because I finally feel like I understand myself and have found peace. That I am whole. And I want you to know who and what I am. Who I have always been, really, from my earliest  memories on, from my teenage years forward. Because it was those years that truly defined me, where I found out who I was. I want you to know who I have always been.

                After my father died in May of 1988, a number of men in the congregation took me on like a son. I love these men to this day and appreciate them dearly. I was 13 years old and desperately wanted a father, to learn how to be a man. These men (John Skidgel, Jim Adams, and many others) were there for me.

I remember laying on my bed in the early summer of 1988, a month or two after my father’s accident. I had been struggling with personal demons common to youth. I had thought the shock of his death- and my desire to see him in the resurrection would help me. Having failed, I felt such despair. And so I was reading Then is Finished the Mystery of God (1963, discussing Revelation 1-13). I was perhaps looking for some “fire and brimstone” writing to help. My mother saw me reading such an old book and told me that there was going to be something new on the subject soon. Somehow she had heard the Revelation book would be coming out at the Divine Justice convention that summer.

                That convention was seminal for me in so very many ways. While I remember conventions prior to that, they are only vague experiences, snippets of things: flashes of various dramas; drinking Shasta Lemon Lime soda; and my favorite, the chocolate pudding; Being at the Cow Palace in San Francisco, spending time in the signage department in its underground offices with Joe Barris and his son Andre.

I wasn’t very spiritually minded as a kid even though I knew the Bible stories like the back of my hand. I was 4 when the Bible Story book came out and had read them endlessly. My mother tried to study that book with both me and my nearly 3 years younger brother. But I was bored, being older. So instead, she started studying with me in the From Paradise Lost to Paradise Regained (1958), a large orange book that told the whole story of the Bible. Poor Ma, so tired after work, but taking time to study individually with each of us. I remember at times her falling asleep. She gave her all to teach us what was precious to her. And it was precious to me because of that.

I enjoyed that time with my mother.  I did believe in Jehovah... but I wasn’t witnessing or really thinking much about it. Things like Star Wars, or TV shows like Buck Rogers or Star Trek or the Fall Guy, cartoons like Transformers or GI Joe, learning to programming our brand new Apple IIc computer, or girls kept my focus.

But it was at that convention that I first started taking a real interest in spiritual things. Partly, as I said, because I was trying to scare myself into doing better. But also, because I found it interesting in and of itself.

The setting was Dodger stadium and it was something to sit amid 40,000 people, finally a maturing young man, hot sun beating down us, to experience it. But most of all, I was intrigued by the talks and symposiums from various members of the Governing Body (over telephone tie lines back then) on the book of Revelation over the next four days.

July 8, 1989 Godly Devotion Convention, LA- My brother (middle) and I (right) baptism

I still have my notebook from that convention and what I recorded was pretty detailed for a 14 year old. (Though it IS funny to see those notes- along with a sketch of the profile of a very cute sister sitting a few rows in front of us. Heh, I guess some things never change.)  It was an exciting convention where, in addition to the Revelation book, we also received the Insight books. I eagerly (and jealously) looked through the copy an elder had gotten (they ran out early and also were relatively expensive at around maybe $9 apiece), loving the artwork and infographics in the color sections.

                One day, John Skidgel frankly told me that if I spent half the time I did learning things like computers or programming instead on spiritual things, I would be a spiritual giant. That stuck with me. Somehow it all came together and gelled for me then and I found actual direction in my life. Like I had found a purpose. Deep down, I have always felt inadequate, like I was never good enough.

I won’t go into any more details, but deep feelings of self-loathing and weakness have always been my companions, destroying any sense of pride and self-esteem I ever had. I do not know why, given how completely my mother loved me, but there it was, all the same.

But by pursuing spiritual goals, I could, for the first time, make some of that go away. The weaknesses were still there. But for the first time, I began to feel more confident. Others, people I respected, liked me. I received praise from those in the congregation. My mom and the men I viewed as fathers were proud. And maybe- just maybe- it felt as if Jehovah liked me too. I began to feel like I mattered to God.

And so that was it. I dove deep into trying to learn more about Jehovah and tried to live my life as a witness at school. I ended up studying with a classmate who became a brother (his whole family ended up becoming active witnesses) and he and I developed a reputation throughout all 4 years of HS for informal witnessing, writing papers or giving presentations based on the Bible or the publications. At lunch, we would sit together and study books like the “Man’s Salvation out of World Distress At Hand” or “Paradise Restored to Mankind by Theocracy.”

What amazed me was how it all fit together. I loved the vast “cosmology” of what I had learned, the whole story of the Bible, the universe, heaven and earth. It was a pattern of history and truth from the eternal past to those years, 1990, 1991, 1992. And I was a part of the organization God was using. I could- with eyes faith- see God’s hand guiding it. During that time, we studied the Revelation Climax book at the book study and I have fond memories of looking at history through that lens- the trumpet blasts of Revelation corresponding to the convention resolutions of 1922 to 1927, for example.

                For personal study, I read the Your Will be Done (1958), a study of each verse of the book of Daniel, delving the 2300, 1335, 2520 and 1250 “days”and their relation to the early days of Jehovah's organization- the period of inactivity and captivity, of the refinement from 1922-1927, of restoring theocratic order in 1938. Of the king of the north and the south and their "clear" struggles that had played out and were still being played out in my lifetime as the Cold War between the Anglo-American world power and the Soviet Union.

                It was one vast glorious puzzle that I was slowly piecing together. At times, I felt like Jehovah loved me and was blessing me. And other times, not. I imagine that is true for all witnesses. You go through feeling like you are doing well and being blessed. And then at other times, like you’re not doing enough or just going through the motions. At those moments especially, but others as well, I dove deep, trying to make Jehovah realer to me, studying and praying and meditating, looking for things to help me see and feel close to someone I could not see.

I remember using the 1935-1985 Publications Index and just going through each of Jehovah's qualities. One of them, "Appreciation" stood out. Jehovah appreciated our efforts. It was a new thought. I discovered the Watchtower of February 1,1978 article "Your Maker Cares Deeply for You." It was perhaps the most powerful thing I had ever read and I took it to my deepest heart. I wanted to love Jehovah and wanted him to love me. This seemed to be an answer to my search. Such finds were helpful and just enough to keep me going.

In the meantime, because I was making spiritual progress, I had more and more friends in the congregation. I enjoyed going in service (and the occasional scriptural “jedi” battles  about the Trinity or hellfire or the rapture, in which I felt "justified' in proving that I had the "truth".)

And I was a normal teenager too. I enjoyed going to Magic Mountain with my friends on Thanksgiving or Christmas (it was so sparsely visited on those days.) There were a couple sisters that I had crushes on and with whom I sort of "dated" (in the teenager JW way: phone calls and service.) Going to a friends house to swim after a long brutal summer day of door to door in 110 degrees as we regular auxiliaried in the summer of 1990 and 1991 in Bakersfield, CA. Convention trips, going camping to Yosemite. It was fun time for me.

I still had my normal weaknesses, of course. As if to make it up to Jehovah, though, I threw myself into my spiritual activity even more, reading and meditating constantly, praying incessantly, assembling a library of our publications and reading and filing away everything I could, especially from the older books. I wanted to show Jehovah how much I loved him. (There is a picture in the w90 12/1 p.17 that shows a man rowing strenuously just to keep from going over a waterfall. When I saw it, it resonated with me. That was how I felt and was what I was desperately doing.)

My mother got remarried to a wonderful man and we settled into a peaceful family, pursuing spiritual goals and relying on Jehovah. Eventually, in July of 1992, a month after I turned 18, I packed up everything I owned into my truck, and drove 1000 miles from my home to live in a small town of about 5000 people in Kayenta, AZ. I had spent months in prayer up to this point, trying to determine if this was what Jehovah wanted for me. To go to serve where the need was great.

It was the middle of nowhere. I was terrified and completely untrained for work and had only my HS education. (I had pressured heavily by worldly family and school counselors because of how well I did in school, but college was not anything I was going to do. Armageddon was so close anyway and we only needed to just last for a short time)

I stayed there for 7 years, doing whatever odd jobs I could find to support myself- cleaning carpets and floors, trimming trees, landscaping and gardening, selling satellite TV, substitute teaching, data entry, hauling garbage to the dump, installing wood stoves- whatever I could fine, while I pioneered and served as a ministerial servant.

It was an adventure and I truly loved being able to explore and make new friends across the circuit. There are so many families that I still think of with fondness, my spiritual fathers and mothers and brothers and sisters. We had fun driving out an exploring the vast deserts if Northern Arizona.

But something had always nagged at me. Little doubts about things. I loved science and read as much as I could. Cosmology, particle physics, biology, science history. I understood the scientific method, how it worked and how reliable it was- it was responsible for all the advancements of the last 400 years! And I knew about dating techniques, that there are many of them. And they reliably dated humans back tens of thousands of years. And yet when I tried to find an explanation for the discrepancies between that and Bible chronology that set man at 6000 years, I found nothing that made any sense.

There were even moments when I doubted Jehovah was real. Were the things I experienced merely the decency of people and (what I later learned is called) confirmation bias? I struggled to try to read and reread publications and do research to shore up my faith. I dove deep into the publications. At times I cried as I found my mind in some sort of logical trap I could not get out of. May of 1990 was one I'll never forget and I'm not sure I ever found an answer. (I'll get to that shortly.) On the few occasions when I opened to my mom or someone else, I got social support and love. And that helped for a time. Nothing was answered, but I could at least put it “on the shelf” for a while. Could let it go.

 It was not the first or the last time I struggled and was in that state. Not just with questions about Jehovah’s existence. I struggled with many questions in my mind as I studied and studied. Like, how can free will exist if Jehovah created us, including our minds? I wondered at why some people would be saved and others wouldn’t, given that their entire life’s experiences LITERALLY shaped the way they thought and saw things. It didn't seem fair or just.

The accident of my birth as one of Jehovah’s witnesses felt unfair to me in comparison to someone born in a deeply Islamic or communist country where- even to this day- the preaching work barely penetrates (2+ billion people not reached.) Sure a few may hear.

At to that the thousands of babies that are born every day. So if Armageddon were to come, what would happen to them? They were blameless, really.

We were taught that at Armageddon everyone without the mark of Ezekiel 18- which, according to the 2018 Pure Worship of Jehovah- Restored at Last is still dedication and baptism (chap 16, para 17)- would be killed for eternity. This included infants and children. It seemed unfair to me because the vast majority of those people never even had a chance.

(I know this bothers other witnesses and they often mentally resort to the same reasoning I did, despite what the publications explicitly say. “Well, Jehovah reads hearts. He’ll know.” But that's not what the "faithful and discreet slave" say! And even if that was the case, I would stop and think, “Well then what’s the point of preaching of Jehovah is just going to read hearts?” Back and forth, I wrestled with that, trying to figure it out. It was a logical loop I couldn’t get out of.

And there were so many others.

The complete lack of evidence for a worldwide flood 4000 years ago (An elder who worked as a geologist, when I asked him privately, admitted to me that apparently the flood left no physical evidence behind); barbaric parts of the mosaic law (Deut 21:10-14); actions Jehovah commanded, carried out, or blessed (Judges 19-21; 2 Samuel 24). Always wondering. Always questioning. Where was the proof? Why did this seem unjust?

BUT I could never share what l felt, the things that were on my mind. Or at least let anyone know the things that were bothering me. I was too terrified. I didn’t want to be labelled an apostate, especially if I was given an unsatisfactory answer and I wasn’t convinced. I prayed and then scoured the publications for answers but didn’t find much to sooth my mind.

I need to backtrack and explain something because I know, at this point you may not understand why these kinds of questions could eat at me so- could make me feel lost and trapped in a mental loop as I tried to work out satisfactory answers. I have been told I think too much (though I'm not sure how that is possible. I don't think making life-changing decisions should be made without thought. One shouldn't get married just because they want to.). I don’t agree. This is how I was raised to think!

We were always told to “make the truth your own.” And I ABSOLUTELY LOVED that the organization said that. It was so refreshing and honest. So different from other religions, I believed. I shouldn’t believe simply because I was told to. I couldn’t believe just because everyone around me believed. This was what set us apart from the churches of Christendom, after all.

I remember this vividly. When we were placing the Mankind’s Search for God (1990) book in the summer of 1991, our presentation emphasized this. (See, for example, the 12/1 km90 p1,2.)We’d open the book and show the colored map at the front inside cover illustrating that for most people, the “accident of our birthplace” was the reason we believed what we did. (The map showed various geographical locations in colors representing the dominant religions of those areas.) Our presentation included referring to the book and then making this point: "Do you not agree that generally people profess the religion of their parents, rather than search for God themselves? In other words, they were born into a certain religion." 

But not all religions could be true at the same time. Therefore, being born into something- even if it was very old, had a large membership, a hierarchical structure, or a deep body of traditions- was not enough. It couldn’t be. Many major religions had the same thing!

And as I had interacted with people in the ministry, it was also clear that simply being happy because worship made you feel good- or even if you had spiritual experiences!- did not make it the truth. One of my classmates in school was Pentecostal. At his worship services he would feel the spirit around him and it was euphoric. He spoke in tongues and described it to me. 

I’d spoken to many people who found joy in their worship services including my unbelieving family members- my deeply Catholic uncle who at one time wanted to be a priest; my Muslim grandmother who woke up even in the middle of the night to offer her nightly prayers in the direction of Mecca;  my evangelical cousins who raised their hands to feel the spirit as they sang praises at church.

I had spoken to many Mormons who believed implicitly that the way to know if something is the truth was simply to ask God, just as you would your father. It seems so simple, really. If you did so sincerely, he would open your heart and you would feel a burning confirmation of it all. The ones I spoke to all described it exactly as that- a testimony that Joseph Smith was the Prophet and that God and Jesus had appeared to him to restore the Church in these Latter Days.

1991 Lovers of Freedom Convention, LA

And me too. I had also sometimes felt what I thought was Jehovah’s spirit. The Conventions were my favorite times, especially at the Lovers of Freedom convention in 1991. I can still remember a number of the talks. When I left them, I felt like I was floating- on a spiritual high. In fact, the best (but not only) experience I ever had was at the end of the 1992 Light Bearers convention, just before I was to move away from home to the reservation. After the Saturday session and dinner and swimming I was in my room, going over my notes for the day. I just felt this spiritual euphoria come over me. I started praying and I almost felt as if Jehovah spoke to me- not in a voice. No. Not that. But by scriptures coming to my mind. It literally felt like a conversation as I asked questions or expressed myself and answers came to me from what I remembered in the scriptures. I felt a joy I could barely contain. Of course, going home, you eventually settle back in to regular life and feel normal again.

So here I was. All of these religions were contradictory- and yet their members were having spiritual experiences that made them feel good, feel connected. To feel as if God was really part of it, with them. So had I. And yet they couldn’t all be true!!

Therefore, spiritual experiences- no matter how wonderful they felt- could not prove something was true. They just couldn’t or that would mean ALL of the others were true. If I relied on my own experiences (not just at conventions, but just general contentment) for confirmation that this was the truth, then how was I any different than the others? Logic cuts both ways. There had to be a way to know if something was true, objectively speaking.

I needed to make the truth my own based on objective facts.

But I already knew how to do that. I had been taught the way from my youth up.

One of the things that I always loved about Charles Russell was that he too, as a youth, struggled with those very kinds of questions. In his own words, he said that for him, as a young man, questions regarding predestination (free will) and eternal torment plagued him. He had been taught that prior to creation, God had already foreknown the coming fall in Eden and had already foreordained the ‘elect’, those that would be saved to heavenly life. As for the rest of mankind, too bad. They would be consigned to the fires of hell, roasted alive for all eternity.

His internal sense of right and wrong and logic rebelled against this idea, despite having no scriptural justification for it (yet!). He just could not accept that (jv 43)! As portrayed in the video Jehovah’s Witnesses- Faith in Action, Part 1: Out of Darkness he wrote: “A God that would use his power to create human beings whom he foreknew and predestinated should be eternally tormented, could be neither wise, just nor loving. His standard would be lower than that of many men.” (Emphasis mine)

To me, that was revolutionary. He held the things he had been taught from the churches about God to the standards of righteousness and logic that even his imperfect human conscience and mind knew to be true. Despite the church’s claim of authority, he rejected it as simply something he could not believe.

       So he struggled to reconcile it. Not finding any satisfying answers to his questions among the churches of his day, he turned to the religions of the east. But in them, too, he didn’t find anything that gave him peace. It seemed like there weren’t any answers anywhere. But, as he said, a chance encounter with an Adventist pastor strengthened his faith and he returned to the Bible to start a Bible study class (1876) that eventually led to the establishment of the Watchtower society in 1884.

               

September 1991, Italy: reading the Divine Purpose book.

I knew all this because I had read the 1975 Yearbook, and the Jehovah’s Witnesses in the Divine Purpose (1953) history books many many times. Then, in 1993, at the Divine Teaching convention we received Jehovah’s Witness- Proclaimers of God’s Kingdom, another volume I read repeatedly. I eventually amassed a large library of as many old publications I could find because this was our spiritual heritage. I got to know many of those books, became intimately familiar with our history.

      Anyway, the thing was, Russell was inquisitive and sought to figure it all out. He was hungry for truth and understanding and dove into it headfirst. But he needed it to make sense. He was not afraid, even as a young man, to ask questions that challenged something precious to him or from an authority he trusted if it was illogical, unloving or just didn’t seem to fit. He set the example for me.

     That was how I (and we, I thought) were taught to think. That was how we tried to reason with people at the door, after all. We tried to get them to consider their beliefs with an objective eye, to ask them if it was reasonable, if it was in harmony with the scriptures. Literally, that was what the ENTIRE Reasoning book (1985/89) was for. It was how I learned to think! This was my mother’s milk (as you will see, quite literally)!

Jehovah had given all of us a brain. I resented then (and still do, today) anyone who told me not to think or not to put things to the test. I felt that was cowardice. Truth should stand up to all challenges. Facts that are afraid to be confronted are not facts. Truth fears nothing. Truth beats all.

I asked people in the ministry to do it all the time. I always thought about Luke’s description of the Bereans in Acts 17:11: “Now these were more noble-minded than those in Thessalonica, for they accepted the word with the greatest eagerness of mind, carefully examining the Scriptures daily to see whether these things were so.” Romans 3:4: “But let God be found true, though every man be found a liar.”

That to me meant the TRUTH was the most important thing, no matter how painful learning it was, no matter if every other person saying something different was proved a liar! (Not surprisingly, Let God be True, was the name of the Bible study book the organization used in the 40’s and 50’s to teach new students.) There were so many scriptures that said to put what we were taught to the test. (That even applied to divine communications! 1 John 4:1)

If something is true, it should not be afraid. Period. I have no fear of watching a video or reading a book by a flat-earther. Why should I? I have a brain and can look at the evidence for myself to determine if what they say is true or not. If I want to buy a car from a dealer and he tells me I can only read reviews from his site, I immediately know something is up. He has something to hide.

It was what we asked people to do in the ministry. To listen and think.

There was another example for me, too. A living example. As I said, this kind of thinking was with me from the beginning. It came my mother, born and raised Catholic. She had been taught that to even question was a sin. And yet, when it came down to it, as she studied with Jehovah’s witnesses, she was willing to put what was precious to her to the test, realizing, among other things, that Jesus was not god.

Such a contrast to those I would meet who were unable or unwilling to challenge their preconceptions.  When you pressed them, when you showed them proof, they became uncomfortable, changed the subject. It was (I now understand) emotional (though as a youth, I didn’t realize how painful it was for them. At the time, I felt that if this was true and that was false, they should just believe it and join us. I didn’t realize the agony that could cause a person. The callous ignorance and lack of understanding of youth, I understand now. The comfort of "certainty".) They didn’t have the emotional strength and courage to do so. But my mom did!

It made me proud to imagine it. And over the years, I met others who had done the same. Terrified, giving up everything they knew, as Ruth had to follow Naomi, courageous enough because what mattered to them was actual truth (not, ‘the truth.’ Most religious organizations say they have ‘the truth’. It doesn't mean they do.)

And so, for me, with those living examples- Russell, my mother, others who had left the religion of their birth- and with those verses, I never felt afraid to try to puzzle things out scripturally and logically. Logic is truth. It is the purest expression of truth. I later learned that as I studied geometry and higher mathematics. Once it is proved, it will always be true. There is no universe where 1+1 does not equal 2. Things needed to be proved, starting from a clear logical foundation. Otherwise there was a danger that no matter how elegant or elaborate the structure was, it wasn’t true.

This way of thinking, ingrained into me from the beginning from my family, the Bible and the organization is one of the greatest gifts I have ever received. These tools, these logical knives to pare away inconsistency and dig out deeply entrenched assumptions, the need for self-awareness and objectivity, the courage to face the unfaceable, the compassion to help them find a ‘truer’ truth helped me as I tried to reason with people or I gave talks, or even tried to reach my son.

Most of all, it gave me a way of examining and cutting to the core, finding and getting rid of errors. What I wanted most in ALL the world, was to have the truest truth, the deepest of reality. The complete and utter confidence that what I believed was correct and that I wasn’t being fooled. I had been steeped in helping others find truth.

But those tools cut both ways, though. There was no other way of thinking. To do otherwise would make me a hypocrite, asking of others (demanding it of them, actually) what I wasn’t willing to do for myself. Keep in mind, none of this was consciously thought out, at this point. It was just how I had been trained to think, from my infancy on. This is how you arrive at truth (my epistemology). It was simply my lens through which everything passed.

So when I was 15 (the year I learned how to construct geometric proofs in HS- no accident) I basically came up with how to do this for myself and deal with the growing questions I had. It wasn’t novel. In fact, I later found out that some publications used this very method (which told me I was on the right track of logical thinking.) The Is there a Creator Who Cares About You?(99) book, p. 78, gives an example of a logical tree like the one I ended up making in my head.

1.       Does an intelligence exist?

2.       Is it a person with feelings?

3.       If this being communicated, how would they do it?

4.       If they used written means, which of all the texts the purport to be of divine origin are from them?

a.       Is the text we have what was originally written?

b.    What evidence that that book is of divine origin?
c.    Is the text historically accurate?
d.    Etc.

5.       What does that communication say?

6.       Which of all the religions teaches what is in harmony with that communication?

....

Each of them had their own set of questions and sub questions. If I could go through of them, answer them to prove them, I could be certain of what was true. Each successive question rested on the one before. Each one was a layer, beginning with a solid foundation, in building my house of faith, each one tried, tested, proven, and true. As certain as if it had been proved mathematically. True truth.

There were publications that helped me go through various aspects of those points. Life- How did it get here? By Evolution or By Creation (1986); The Bible- God’s Words or Mans? (1989); Mankind’s Search for God (1990). I read these books multiple times (especially the last two.) I scoured the bound volumes for relevant articles. I also used some of the books from the 60s, 70s and 80's.

I also continued to study simply to draw closer to Jehovah- using the index to study his qualities one by one, taking extensive notes of meditation, to work on my own problems, to strengthen myself against my weaknesses, and also simply for the love of it.

For a time, all of that helped. But the more I learned about science and the evidence- from Cosmology and astronomy, geology, and biology- the more questions regarding point number 1 came up. Despite what is claimed, there really is a lot of physical evidence of evolution by means of natural selection (what we are told evolution is and what it is are two very different things.) I had seen it in school. I had read about it. Evidence.

Things do change over time, evolve. (When I got older and began programming, I learned to use a technique called Genetic Programming. It literally makes computer program code evolve- using random mutations, survival tests, and reproduction- over 100’s or 1000’s of generations to generate solutions to problems or to optimize itself for its environment. It was literally evolution by means of natural selection. Innovative solutions were being arrived at through random mutations over hundreds of generations. Nice overview: https://docs.microsoft.com/en-us/archive/msdn-magazine/2004/august/natural-selection-with-windows-forms-using-csharp-and-codedom)

 I went back and forth on a lot of this stuff. Then, one day, one thing really hit me hard as I was reading the Insight book, specifically the color section on the flood (vol 1, p. 327), under the question “Could the Ark have held all the animals?: Some investigators have said that just 43 ‘kinds’ of mammals, 74 ‘kinds’ of birds, and 10 ‘kinds’ of reptiles could have produced the great variety of species of these creatures that are known today.” (I don’t think the insect kingdom was included in that.) I thought about that, factoring in that the flood had happened in 2370 BCE, only 4000 years ago. In that short, 4000 year time, those 127 “kinds” of animals had to have rapidly adapted and evolved into the billions of species on earth today. That was from the publications! Actual evolution!! Faster evolution that ANY scientist postulated!!!

As I mentioned, there were aspects regarding the age of fossils of humans that went back far beyond 4026 BCE, when Adam was said to be created. I tried to find evidence that the dating techniques scientists used were suspect and therefore not believable- and more importantly, WHY they were suspect. Science is a tool and is responsible for all the advancements of our modern world. I absolutely didn’t like the idea of cherry-picking science when it supported what I believed and rejecting it when it didn’t. You can't  pick and choose.

These challenges seemed to fall in line with the Catholic church and its struggle with Gaileo. The Church had said that the earth was the center of the universe and so regardless of the physical evidence presented, Galileo was wrong.

The whole point of science is to slowly, methodically, one brick at a time, determine how our physical universe works. It is not always correct (the methodology can be off, the results misinterpreted, new theories posited when the rule breaks down- quantum physics was discovered because predications made by Newtonian physics regarding black body radiation failed when you got to the smallest levels). And over time, our understanding is refined and becomes more and more accurate. This is done through experimentation and study.

IT IS NOT DONE by someone just saying “NOPE! It can’t be!” without any evidence.

Instead, such discoveries are arrived at through careful experiment that ANYONE can do. Part of publishing any scientific discovery requires the complete methodology of the experiment and all the data. This is so that other scientists can try it themselves, can go over the data themselves, can test the methodology. It goes through a process of peer review where everyone subjects the new understanding to every possible valid criticism.

Again, truth will survive every assault and question because it is true.

No one could simply say something was true without others being able to confirm it. It is the democratization of truth, the removal of any ‘priesthood’ of knowledge. (For example, in a college physics class, I saw this for myself as we derived the physical laws of motion simply through rigorous experiment, just as Galileo and others had done. Anyone could do this.) So if the dating techniques were wrong, then I needed to see reasons why. References to studies that showed those errors.

But there was absolutely nothing of note. Just a few selected quotes that flat out taken out of context or not from reputable sources. Context matters. The very last time a single attempt was made at poking holes in dating techniques was in 1989. That's it. Silence after that. That silence last lasted 30 years up until today. I know because I eagerly (more like desperately) looked for anything whenever an article, book, or brochure came out touching on the subject, hoping to find something that would help to explain the continuing mountain of fossils that were being discovered.

I wanted to know how to explain Neanderthals and Denisovians- non-human species whose genome has even been sequenced. Species related to but not the same as homo sapiens. And not only was there no further comment about carbon dating, nothing was mentioned about all the new methods that had been developed that were even more accurate. Nor of the fact that in modern dating protocols, results from many different techniques have to be compared before the age of something can be declared. All the relevant methods used must agree, must all point to the same age. Multiple witnesses, as it were.

And so there it was. Evidence- actual tangible, touchable evidence- of humans existing much further back than Adam. That, together with what I was learning about evolution and scientific laws and methods, ate at me. What if….?

These were the questions that plagued me

I will stop now, as I am sure this has made you very uncomfortable and frustrated with why these things could vex me like they did. And I also don’t wish this to be a book.

But for me, from everything I had been taught by the example of my mother and the organization, from everything I had learned by the examples of witnesses before me and from the scriptures itself, I knew that Faith had to be based on Accurate Knowledge ("epi-gnosis" in John 17:3, according to the NWT). “Faith follows the things heard.” (Romans 10:17) which meant faith is based on facts, according the magazines.

‘Faith is the evident demonstration of realities though not beheld.’ (Hebrews 11:1) I had been reading the September 1991 Watchtower and it explained that the word “assured expectation” could also be translated “Title Deed”. The article said: “The Greek word (hy·poʹsta·sis) rendered “assured expectation” at Hebrews 11:1 was commonly used in ancient papyrus business documents to convey the idea of something that guarantees future possession. Scholars Moulton and Milligan suggest the rendering: “Faith is the title deed of things hoped for.” (Vocabulary of the Greek Testament) Obviously, if a person possesses the title deed to property, he can have the “assured expectation” that someday his hope to obtain it will be realized.” (w91 9/15 p.10 para 5) I liked that. Faith was based on real demonstrable evidence, as tangible as a title deed to a property (not a fake).

That was how I viewed things. How I always viewed things. Every step, every number, everything had to be arrived at through careful means- logical, methodical and consistent. It was how brother Russell had begun his Bible study in the first place back in 1874. A kind old sister gave me Jehovah’s Witnesses and The New World Society  (by Marley Cole), a history book prepared under the direction of the Watchtower, but sold by a worldly publisher.

She knew that I was interested in our history.  I read it eagerly while out in service one day. In one section, he details how Russell began their Bible study in those early days. He and the other members of the study group all came from different religious denominational backgrounds. As they read, each of them would interpret a text according to what they were taught, from that background. Realizing the problem, Russell asked,  “how many Bible’s there were? How many Gods? How many truths?” The answer was always ‘one’. So, he said they had to “leave their preconceived ideas at the door as they did their coats.”

Let the Bible explain itself, NOT us try to make it fit it what we already believe. For example, they arrived at the understanding regarding the ‘soul’ by looking up everything single reference in a concordance for nephesh and psyche, treating it as a foreign word, not the English word with all that baggage. What they came up with is basically what you can see in the New World Translation- with References, appendix 4A. A logical organization of every single use of those words and their meaning. To me, this was amazingly beautiful, on a par with any logical mathematical proof because it had been arrived at the same way. It did not assume a meaning for those words and look to prove it. It instead, let the text define those words. It was a logical methodology. And it works.

Again, this was how I was trained to think from EVERYTHING I had every read and been taught. The tools for how to arrive at truth. I couldn’t help but use those same thinking tools, to think in the same way about everything I read. I don’t know how to turn it on or off. Truth is truth and should stand up to any question and should fear no challenge. Wasn’t I taught that in my ministry? How was it wrong of me to ask questions and try to make things logically fit so that I could know for sure- completely, without question, without any shred of hesitation- that everything I believed was true.

But as the years went by, more questions came up. More puzzle pieces that did not fit. I tried to make them fit. I tried so hard. I prayed and prayed, asking for help to quiet these things in my mind. Help me to find satisfying answers. I hammered at them, scoured more and more publications.

Of course, by this time I was married and a new father. And I had so many good friends and family in this organization. I couldn’t risk losing it all just because of that. And so I tried to ignore or at least leave things with Jehovah. But I felt like I had no energy. I was not happy. I was weak and it was sapping my strength. I wasn’t a good husband to my wife, not in the way I should have been.

I should have been honest with her about everything, including my questions. But I was afraid. Afraid to lose her, to lose what was real, to lose my world- to lose my family. And at times, some peace came, as I felt joy in some aspect of theocratic activity or other. I enjoyed public talks, speaking about things that meant something to me. I adapted my talks to address some of the doubts I had, or that others had. I had always desperately wanted to know if Jehovah loved me. And so I poured my heart into giving the talk “Does God count you personally important,” bringing into it everything I could find that would make a person feel loved.

Secretly, I wondered, though, if others had these same questions. Why did I struggle so hard when I studied so much more than anyone else? I wondered if Jehovah was as hard to get to know for me as for others.

But when I was done giving that talk, I felt good. Like I had made a difference. So maybe that meant I was on the right track. And people were encouraged, so maybe somehow I had reached someone and strengthened their faith. That encouraged me to keep going.

Sometimes, carefully, I asked questions of brothers. Not too hard because more than once, I was shut down, even by those I thought better of. There was always that hard limit you come up against, when asking questions. I did meet a brother who had a massive library of literature, including Bibles, his own collection of Biblical Archeology Review magazines, and other reference books. I felt a deep sense of kinship with him and some relief. At last, here was a brother after my own heart. And as we spoke, I felt trust develop. I could broach some of my questions with him. He was highly intelligent and clearly was interested in the same things I was.

By this time it was 1999 and I had been struggling with questions regarding the reliability of the Bible texts. As you may recall, making sure that we have as close to the original texts as possible is a crucial early step. If not, then all the rest fails. I ended up spending around 2 or 3 years studying this subject in detail, using both publications like the Insight book, All Scripture is Inspired of God (89) as well as a number of scholarly works.

My question had to do with the removal of God’s name and the transmission line of the Christian Greek scriptures. There were 2 arguments we used about each subject that seemed contradictory- as in they couldn’t both be true.
1) We believe that the text we have now is substantially the same as when it was written by the end of the 1^st century. We have fragments (like Rylands P52, of John, going back to 125 AD, 25 years after its writing.) Therefore, the texts are reliable.
2) We believe that sometime between the 1^st and 2^nd century, Jehovah’s name was removed from the New Testament and that is why we don’t have a single instance with a manuscript- or even a fragment- with the divine name in it! The pieces from the the 2nd and 3rd centuries are fragmentary at best- P52 is 2 verses in John 18. Our oldest manuscripts and/or translations from the 2nd/3rd century do not have the Tetragrammaton. Therefore, sometime after they were written but before the copies we do have were made, the name was removed from the NT and so NONE of the pieces we have contain it.

When we want to show reasons we can trust the transmission of the New Testament, we use 1. When we want to show why God’s name is not in the New Testament we use 2.

I had tried to figure out how to reconcile them because to trust the Bible first means we have to know that what we have is substantially the same as the originals. If Jesus didn’t say or do these things, if Paul hadn’t actually said that, if John hadn’t had that exact vision, then the whole thing would come crashing down. It was a critical point. If there is such a wide gap that EVERY INSTANCE of Jehovah's name was removed and so we have no Greek text with it... what else changed?

You can't have it both ways. They are contradictory.

Carefully, I called this brother and asked if we could talk. He was kind and loving and willing to talk to me. I carefully broached the subject, laying it all out in logical order.

I'd like to say he gave it careful thought. That he told me he had wondered that before. Or that he needed to do some research. I'd like to say that....but I cannot. He jumped all over me. Immediately became dogmatic and defensive. I don’t say this to slight him. Very likely, my question made him uncomfortable and when faced with that, it’s easy to reject what is bothering us. It’s easier to not consider what challenges us.

But I was respectful, I made it clear that this was bothering me because I wanted to believe, was sure there was an explanation, but I couldn’t find it and needed help. But I didn’t get that from him. He didn’t listen to me and casually dismissed my questions almost in irritation. It felt like a slap in the face.

So that was pretty much how things went for a long time. I wrote the society occasionally, asking questions, carefully explaining in detail what I had looked up in the publications so far, so they would understand I had been researching this and needed help, beyond what had already been published. That what had been presented so far wasn't clear or logical. But the answers were always a repeat of what I read, never addressing my point.

Being in the Spanish congregation furthered a disconnect. And sad to say, I wasn’t taking care of my family’s needs completely. Between my weaknesses and my questions, I just wasn’t being the husband my wife needed me to be. (We both failed at marriage, but I can only own my own mistakes. And I made them.) I remember sitting during the TMS meeting and I was just so bored. Nothing made sense anymore. 

I tried reading my Bible but every time I read, I got caught up in a logic loop. I tried praying and felt nothing. So at that point, I got out my notebook and tried to work out the proof for the 2^nd fundamental theorem of calculus from memory, just to take my mind off things, to consider something slowly, something logical and elegant and simple and beautiful. It gave me a sense of mental peace for a bit.

I studied a lot of calculus in those years.

Eventually, my marriage collapsed. So I focused on Connor and his needs and for a time, this silenced some of the things that were bothering me. Not one thing was answered or fixed. But I was too busy to get lost. I had practical concerns to concentrate on. And I made close friends in the congregations.

As the years went by, Connor’s special needs manifested themselves one by one, only increasing my focus. Now, the Bible and the things I had been taught were not just for me. I needed it to help Connor, to learn how to teach him to love Jehovah. Even though I questioned many things, at the core, I still believed it was true. I needed it to be.

Despite all my questions and doubts, there was one thing, one truth. I remembered Jesus’ words at John 13. “By this everyone will know you are my disciples, if you have love among yourselves.” The questions didn’t go away. But I could try to ignore them.

During one meeting in Farmington in maybe 2006 or 2007- Connor was at his mom's- I was sitting there with that sick feeling in my stomach again, as I had had time to be with my thoughts. An illustration comes to mind. If an engine is broken and you put a blanket over it for 20 years, you haven’t fixed the engine. Once the blanket comes off, the damage remains. And sometimes it is worse because there has been deterioration. I felt like I was losing myself because I was questioning everything I had been taught. And prayed and prayed. And I had been studying. I have reams of notebooks filled with meditation and study projects about Jehovah, about his qualities, about Jesus and his personality.

At times in the past, I caught glimpses of God, of feeling connected to him, I think, but they were hard won and didn’t last. I would chase those moments though, like that one I mentioned after the convention in 92, as an example. I spent years trying to catch it again. At one point, every week while in Kayenta, I would go to the KH in the evenings and study in the library about Jehovah, all in hopes of once more feeling that brief moment I had that summer.

Even though I also knew spiritual experiences were not actually proof of anything, I still...just wanted to feel something.

But here I was, unmoored, drifting. And again, the Love came to mind. If nothing else, even if it all falls apart, there is love here. A unified loving brotherhood. How could I doubt that hard tangible fact? I had pictures of it. Video of me at the internation convention in January of 1994 in Kenya. I had audio recordings. I had been there. Love.

And it helped. As did my friendships. Iron sharpens iron. I could still be active with my friends and be encouraged to keep trying to do good. I was deeply lonely as a single parent and did want a mate. But Connor needed my attention. So I had to put my needs on hold for the next 10 years. All the self-loathing and hatred only having built up from my many failures (including that of my marriage), my fears and worries that I was not doing my best as a single dad, my loneliness and feeling like I wasn’t sure about anything, they added up.

Addiction, as doctors will tell you, is a form of self-medicating. Instead of dealing with the real issues, digging to the core and working on them, you mask it or try to numb the pain. Cutters, gamblers, alcoholics, sex addicts, drug addicts, and so many more, that’s all they are trying to do. The brain is trying to handle the pain and doing what it has learned to do to alleviate it, even if for just a moment.

Finally, after a particularly depressing winter of 2013, I went to the brothers. I have been vague here, out of shame. I still feel it. But I suppose I should just say it. I have struggled with addiction to pornography. For many many years I held it at bay. But over time, it began to happen more and more. I had spoken to the elders over the years but somehow I was not able to overcome it despite my best efforts. So I went to the brothers and told them I was still struggling, especially after that winter. A sister I had been interested in indicated she didn't think we had any chemistry. I had thought that this might have actually been something. It hit me hard. I spiraled.

You may or may not know, but the organization has 2 classifications for porn. “Normal” (but still bad) and “abhorrent.” Abhorrent includes things like lesbian or threesomes. But it also includes things like bondage, bestiality, rape or thing involving children. I abhor those latter with every fiber of my being.

But I had watched threesomes and women together. Again, I feel much shame in writing this, but I am trying to be honest. I won’t pretend to be better than I am. I did fail. Well, during the meeting, the brothers were frank and said that in view of my long struggle with this addiction, my sin had become greediness and was something I could be expelled for. While the elders met in private, I pleaded with Jehovah, begging him. I know I had failed him, but I had been trying. Wasn’t my going to them itself an indicator of repentance? I could not conceive of living in a world outside the organization. I had been here my whole life.

After all, from the beginning we are taught to keep everyone and everything worldly at arm’s length. The only world that mattered to me was within the congregation. My brain and heart and mind had no concept of what it would mean to be cut off from all of that. There was nothing outside the organization. But the answer came. I was expelled.

I thought (and perhaps the brothers thought) that the severity of the action would finally give me the impetus to overcome. But addiction doesn’t work that way, as all addiction specialists will tell you. (Keep in mind, even those in the congregation with addictions like alcohol or drugs go to specialists because the fact is, that is what they are trained in- what they do, day in and day out.  As much as the brothers may learn about using spiritual tools to reach hearts, they are not addiction specialists. They are not professionals. There are real biological components to addiction that need to be treated. All I am saying is, when you need to have a heart bypass or get cancer, it won’t be elders doing the surgery with the Bible.) What was supposed to be 5 months extended on and on. After all, I had nothing and no one. If my struggles to feel and know Jehovah had been hard before, now it was worse. And I was alone and angry and hurt.

And I felt I was dying. No. I felt LIKE dying. I am glad I do not and have not ever owned a gun. And that the idea of cutting my wrists is something I don’t think I have the courage to do. Because there were moments I seriously considered suicide. Tried to figure out how I could do it and escape, finally, from this misery that was my life- and my fault. Just to end it all. My family had always told me I was a bouncer. I always come back. Only this time, I was ready to cut it all and be done.

The only thing that stopped me was Connor. And so I prayed to Jehovah that if I had ever had any favor with him, please transfer it to my son. Even if that meant me dying forever, I would gladly give any treasures in heaven over to Connor’s account. And so I kept trying, going to meetings, to come back to Jehovah and the congregation.

The loneliness and pain has never gone away. It has been a living death. But friends at work were the ones that came to me, loved me. The human heart cannot handle such cutting off without needing to fill it with something, not without killing itself. And what kind and supportive friends they proved to be. Always willing to help, even if we still disagreed on things. But I was still trying. I applied for reinstatement a few times but not enough time had passed.

Finally, after encouragement from my ex-wife (for which I will forever be grateful), I went into therapy, and for the first time was able to look back on my life from a more detached perspective. I could see the child I was, sweet and hungry and never broken, never permanently down. I saw even more clearly what an amazing mother I had, so kind and self-sacrificing. I looked back and was able reevaluate myself, my successes and failures.

And something happened. I liked what I saw. I liked myself. The struggle was still there, but the person I was, was a good person. And for the first time I really started to see improvement. Core issues were finally being addressed, broken bones and torn wounds gently exposed to the air, cleaned and bandaged. I didn’t feel hopeless anymore.

And deep down, I thought I would one day come back. Despite all the doubts that by this time had become my old companions, always there, stony in their refusal to go away, the one residual thing remained. Love. By this love all will know you are my disciples. Love.

And I hoped that it was that last hoped for thing that would help me come back. The International convention this summer “Love Never Fails”. It was my last hope.

And yet something curious happened. I reflected on the magnitude of what disfellowshipping meant and did to me. I thought about how it had affected others. I had seriously contemplated suicide. Me. Seriously. The fact is many DO commit suicide. The act of cutting off destroys them. The percentage is high, the number of those who literally kill themselves in misery at their sudden ostracism.

Unable to suffer the loss, some spiral into depression, drugs and alcohol. I thought of those I’d known who left, the desperate life they fell into as a way of somehow filling that world-sized hole in their hearts- the loss of everything and everyone they- no, I had ever known.

I especially thought of all the brothers and sisters who struggled with same sex attraction from childhood on, desperately begging Jehovah for help, to cure them, to make them "normal". I thought of the ones I knew of who, because of this, threw themselves deeply into spiritual activities, almost manic, trying to redirect their human desires or sublimate them.

One young brother I know of kept a safety pin in his pocket so he could stick himself whenever he had any thoughts along those lines. He said his pants were often bloody, but he was trying so hard. Another spoke of how he just decided to stop fighting and was going to kill himself, since Jehovah hated him anyway.

And then I thought of those who stuck it out, never acted on those feelings, as they got older. Some went from being that admired and looked up to single brother to the strange older brother who never married and who youths were privately directed to avoid being alone with. I remembered the cruel comments, expressions and jokes I heard expressed by brothers- including elders and those with more responsibility- speaking of gay people as if they were disgusting child molesters and depraved vermin, and thinking ‘what if that young brother sitting there listening to this is struggling with those feelings? How does this make him feel?’

I thought of the endless life of loneliness ahead of them, at least until the New World.

And not just them. Everyone who had thought the end was soon and had made so many personal sacrifices, putting off dreams, children, finding a mate. The brothers and sisters who read these words in the Awake! g69 5/22 p15 magazine: “If you are a young person, you also need to face the fact that you will never grow old in this present system of things. Why not? Because all the evidence in fulfillment of Bible prophecy indicates that this corrupt system is due to end in a few years.”

If they were 15 when they read those words, they are now 65, easily approaching retirement age, many without a companion or lost health or struggling to survive because they never got an education and had made no provision for the future. Childless and living day to day. They acted in faith on those words....and now had nothing. Those that did leave, eventually just pursuing a life as best as possible in this world, now dead to everyone they ever knew or loved.

Love. I kept thinking of love. Unconditional love. The love a mother has for her child. What my mother showed me every moment of every day since I was first born. That doesn’t mean she approved of everything I did. I received punishment. But never something that could hurt me.

And yet here was "discipline" that led to me nearly kill myself. That HAD made others kill themselves. That cut off the natural affection between families, whether it was for mistaken sin, for finally coming to terms with who they were and had always been, or for realizing they didnt believe something they had before.

This is especially relevant if they had been a teenager or younger when they were baptized, were raised in those beliefs, and had now come to question them as an adult. There is a reason we don’t let 12 year olds drive or get married. And yet somehow, we expect them to make a decision at that age that will govern their life for the rest of their lives. And if they later realize they don’t believe it, that they were pressured or never knew anything else, they will have to pay a terrible price. Not just 12 year olds. 10, 9 and even 6, in one Watchtower experience from 1992 (Sandra Cowan).

That wasn't love- the magazines even said so!!!

The Awake! of July 2009, p. 29 in the article “The Bible’s Viewpoint: Is it Wrong to Change Your Religion?” made this comment: “No one should be forced to worship in a way that he finds unacceptable or be made to choose between his beliefs and his family.” It was true. No Catholic who is studying should have to choose between her Catholic family and her new-found faith as she studies with Jehovah’s Witnesses as my mother had.

 To do so, as mentioned in the w97 2/1 p.34, was a violation of the UN Declaration of Human Rights, which said everyone has a right to freedom of religion, conscience and thought. “This includes a person’s right to change his religion or belief.” There were many experiences of that happening, someone getting kicked out of their home or losing their family because they wanted to serve Jehovah. We read those experiences and couldn’t believe how cruel those families were when they were just wanting worship god how they saw fit.

And yet...we did the same thing!!!

Disfellowshipping woke me up, when I truly considered the magnitude of what it was. There was Love, I know, in the congregation. But it wasn’t unconditional. It is and always was conditional. You are loved only as long as you believe as I do or do what I think you should. My association with you is dependent on how you live your life and how you think.

If you don’t, then I won’t be a part of your life. You are dead to me. Those who just decided they didn’t agree with every teaching or command or were still struggling with human weakness were out. Emotional blackmail.

I realized we shed people like a duck sheds water. Once they’re gone, they are only occasionally remembered as those who used to walk beside us. Sometimes with pain, I know. But we left them behind all the same. Because our friends could only be people exactly like us, who behaved as we do, believed as we do, thought as we do. Anything else, and they are dead.

Except that was me, now.

And so this is what it came down to. The love I thought I saw was only there- but only conditionally. It DID fail. And my hope died, the last flame, the last little tie holding me. The conditional love that kept people who wanted to leave trapped and afraid to say anything that could get take away their family.

The dam burst. All of it. Everything. It broke and suddenly what was one single stream had become everything- every single thing that had ever bothered me. Every question, every doubt, every fact I knew, every error I had read, every failed prediction from 1878 to 1914 to 1925 to 1975, every bit of knowledge I personally had from being a part of the congregation my entire life, from things I had personally observed- misconduct by those in authority, the refusal to handle abuse properly (I personally know of 3 cases of sexual abuse and two of physical abuse of children where nothing was ever done), the cover ups.

Every doubt I have ever had about God, about the Bible, about accounts in the Bible, actions Jehovah commanded his people to take, actions Jehovah took, specific aspects in the "perfect" Mosaic law like sanctioned rape of female captives (Deuteronomy 21:10-14) or that let a man beat his slave to death and as long as he lingers for a few days, he won't be punished (Exodus 21:20-21), commands which sounded something DIRECTLY out of ISIS’s book: Deut 8:6-10: “If your brother, the son of your mother, or your son or your daughter or your cherished wife or your closest companion should try to entice you in secrecy, saying, ‘Let us go and serve other gods,’ you must not give in to him or listen to him, nor should you show pity or feel compassion or protect him; instead, you should kill him without fail. Your hand should be the first to come upon him to put him to death, and the hand of all the people afterward. And you must stone him to death, because he has sought to turn you away from Jehovah your God.”.

The coming killing of 8 billion men women and children, whose bodies would cover the earth and be picked over and eaten by carrion and whose bodies we would have to bury...

And so much more. Finally, I let myself go and be honest and stop hiding from the things that had bothered me so for the last 30 years. Once the dam burst I finally let go. I knew that could not believe this book was from god. I wasn't even sure god existed. But I absolutely didn't believe this was from it.

And then, I even gave myself permission to read online (as terrified as I was, since it was ingrained in me from childhood to avoid anything like that), to find out if I was the only one who had ever felt this way.

The waters that had been pent up, rising for decades, finally scoured through me, a massive force pouring through me, scrubbing me, making me see for the first time.

This is the most painful thing I ever realized. Because I knew what it meant. Knew what it would cost me and those I loved. I was not coming back. I couldn’t. I wouldn't. I tried. I tried so hard, for so long. I wanted it to be true, I had wished it was true in a way that didn't violate my conscience. I am truly sorry for hurting all the wonderful people in my life by making this decision, by coming to this realization.

But I have to be honest with who I am. With the man that I am. The man that I have spent 45 years trying to be. The me that I think I always was. I wanted you to know me, all that has been on my mind, why I am the way I am. What has been in my heart. I am still me. I haven’t changed, not at my core.

The truth is, I am not one of Jehovah’s Witnesses. I do not believe the bible is inspired. I think maybe something out there exists, but who and what it is, I do not know. I think if god does exist it is so far beyond our human mind to imagine, to understand any feelings it might have, that we just cannot even know. That is what I believe.

I love you all so very much. I tried. I really did. Those of you who knew me, knew how much I studied. But now you know why. I tried so hard to believe it was the truth. But I cant' believe something that isn't true.

And so this is me on the cliff and I finally jumped. I stopped trying to make everything fit and let them be what they were.

I dove into the truth...the waters that I just did not know....and that was ok. That it was ok not to force facts to fit into something it didn't.

 I'd rather have questions I can't answer than answers I can't question. And so I found peace there.

I do not regret my childhood at all. I had a good childhood. Growing up as one of Jehovah’s Witnesses gave me many good gifts (though I won’t say it didn’t have its drawbacks. We all know that isn’t true). And there are people and memories I will cherish forever. I am still the same Ian. I will always be me.

In many ways, I finally feel more me than I ever have. Though I am not gay, I very much identify with the feeling of coming out of the closet. I finally feel peace and contentment. I am who I am and this is what I believe to be true. And actually, things have gotten better for me now that I have peace. Sometimes things are a problem because they are a way of dealing with pain. Self medication.

                I know that for most of you, if you’ve read this far, you will conclude that I just didn’t have enough faith. I spent too much time trying to prove it was true instead of just believing.

My only answer would then be this: how does that make us different than any other religion?What if your return visit told you his priest said he needed to just believe.

I spent 30 years searching for answers only from Jehovah, his word and the organization. I followed the way I was taught, the examples I was given. I will tell you that I studied more about these things than most everyone I know of BECAUSE I wanted to believe, hungered to believe. And I did try to believe. But you can’t unlearn things. I can’t stop thinking and looking at things logically. And so here I am, on one side and you on the other.

The only thing I would ask is that you think again on the 2009 Awake! Article: “No one should be forced to worship in a way that he finds unacceptable or be made to choose between his beliefs and his family.” Does that only apply to non-witnesses? Is that what that means? This doesn’t apply to the organization? I only ask that in love. Logic cuts both ways.

I just wanted you all to know why I left. That I appreciate so many of you even though our paths have now diverged. I wish you the best and will be there if you ever need me.

I love you all. Until the day I die, I love you all.

Always your son, your brother, your friend.

Ian