My parents were Protestant, but they let me be baptized in a Catholic church because, frankly, that church had the best kindergarten in our hometown, which was just two minutes on foot away from home, while the next Protestant church had no kindergarten whatsoever and was significantly farther away.
Then, when I was coming into puberty, and my holy communion was drawing closer, they knew that I would financially benefit from a Protestant “confirmation” ceremony (there’s that custom that every friend or relative of the family donates some money for the child on that one, while the Catholic communion doesn’t involve money at all), and they found the Protestant church much more beautiful, so they let me change my confession and sent me to the Protestant church lessons. I cannot remember ever having been confronted with religion at home, but I remember singing in the Catholic mass and one child beside me add to each line that ended with “God” the words “the piss pot” and chuckle furiously. I remember being shocked and afraid that a lightning would hit us, but when nothing happened I felt silly and childish to have believed such a thing.
In Protestant church lessons that should prepare us for our holy confirmation at the age of 14 I was one of the most devout pupils and learned my prayers and never asked a critical question, because it never occurred to me. But my best friend Bob (real name changed, of course) was from Croatia and had no faith whatsoever, he just knew the Bible very well and asked me to take him with me into one of the lessons. Turned out he not only knew the Bible better than our Pastor, he also confronted him with questions he couldn’t really answer to everyones satisfaction. And he pointed out all the weaknesses and contradictory phrases to us. He was an astoundingly clever kid already back then.
I started reading the Bible for myself and marking all the parts that didn’t logically fit together. I started asking similar questions to several priests of the different churches in my hometown, and none of them could answer them to my satisfaction. And I knew I had looked behind the curtain.
It was the same as with Easter bunny, Santa Clause, and the Monster beneath my bed.
None of them had ever existed. It was all lies and rubbish. I went through the confirmation ceremony and got my money. I nominally stayed a Protestant for 5 more years. I even did my civil service (which one can choose to do instead of military service) for that church, nursing old people and bringing them their daily lunch.
After that, upon leaving my hometown to go studying, I left the Church. My parents have also done so by now. They still believe there is some higher power out there. And they still believe in divine judgement. But they HAVE to. They are poor. Noone has ever shown THEM justice in life. They simply must believe that to not completely break down.
I have become a scientist of literature at university. And critical thinking, along with empirical research, was drilled into our heads. It didn’t need to be for me any more. I had already had my fair share of betrayal and false witness by then.
I will never again believe in something that cannot be proven. It always ends with disappointment anyway.