I am not a Christian.

For such a simple statement, it sure packs a big punch. For me to say that I am not a Christian means far more than to say I am agnostic.

Growing up, being a Christian was a large part of my life. I attended Sunday school and Bible camps. I sang in choirs and lit the altar candles. I was a good little Lutheran.

When I got to college, something changed.

I tried to find a good church, and was at one time very involved with Christus Rex — an organization I still regard highly despite my religious views. Yet, while I heard the sermons about love and tolerance,  I watched as friends were ostracized because of who they were — and often who they weren’t.

I saw it in the news and heard it on the streets. For a church community I grew up to know as loving and full of grace, there sure was a lot of hate.

Eventually, after years of struggle, I finally came to terms with the fact that I no longer considered myself a Christian. A few of my friends with whom I’ve discussed my views have even gone so far as to dub me “the Reluctant Atheist.”

The only reason the nickname hasn’t stuck is that I still believe in God. I also still believe in the core values of Christianity. However, I am ashamed to call myself a part of a group who shows hate when they preach love. For this reason, I no longer call myself a Christian.

In The Dakota Student last week, there was an ad for a lecture by a Christian Apologist challenging “atheists to put up or shut up!”

Usually, I don’t take this kind of wording personally. The world is full of people, some of whom will hate me. I’m okay with this fact and have come to embrace it — after all, there are some who will love me as well.

Seeing this kind of language usually doesn’t do much to knick my armor — except this ad.

This ad looked into my very soul and helped me understand why I can no longer call myself a Christian while holding my head up high.

My religious schooling growing up was erratic to say the least. My father, a Lutheran through and through, married my mother who had been everything from Episcopalian to Morman. We moved around quite a bit, so I’ve attended various Lutheran, Episcopal and Methodist churches.

Since I spent most of my time as a Lutheran, I came to call myself one.  During my confirmation, my father removed me from the weekly classes at our church. I was confused, though far from upset.

Part of being a good little Lutheran girl was meeting in a large group of peers to discuss the Lutheran Small Catechism, not exactly a young teenager’s idea of fun. But he didn’t make me go back, so I accepted my fate. Eventually, curiosity got the better of me, and I wormed the explanation out of him.

Confirmation at that church was focused on fire and brimstone. It was less about being a Christian and more about not being something else.

By identifying ourselves as part of that church, we were in a way saying that we were better than non-Christians. My father, who I so rarely saw upset, was incredibly filled with righteous anger as he continued to tell me about grace.

It all comes down to one word: grace.

For those of you who aren’t familiar with Christianity, the central focus is a prophet — the son of God — who was gruesomely executed to forgive all of humanity. In a sense, he took the blame and punishment for all past, present and future wrongdoings.

Though this is the extra-short SparkNote version of the story found in the New Testament, it becomes key to why I take issue with putting up or shutting up.

When I was a Christian, I could never understand why the so-called son of God did what he did. I could never understand why “God so loved the world he sent his only son” to be tortured and killed for every single person who ever lived or will live.

I barely deserve to have someone open a door for me, let alone die for me. But, as my father argued, that was the whole point. None of us, Christians or non-Christians, deserved it. It was done out of love. It was done out of Grace.

For this reason, I am angry at the ad. There is no grace to be found. Instead, it screams “You’re wrong! I’m right!” just like playground bullies do at school. There is no love to be found in that ad — no acceptance.

One of the few values I took from Christianity was the ever popular “love thy neighbor as thyself,” but in this ad, all I can see is “I’m better than you.” So, in response and at the risk of playing their game, I have this to say: A reluctant atheist challenges Christian Apologists to show her the grace.”

Kjerstine Trooien is a staff writer for The Dakota Student. She can be reached at [email protected]