The journey from religious certainty to skepticism is often complex and deeply personal. It is shaped by one's upbringing, the boundaries imposed by doctrine, and, eventually, the courage to pursue independent inquiry. While early immersion in a religious system can provide a strong sense of identity, purpose, and community, the absence of space for critical questioning often becomes problematic. When individuals begin to encounter logical inconsistencies or unresolved theological tensions, faith—once unquestioned—can slowly give way to doubt.
For many, this transition is not driven by rebellion or a desire to reject belief, but by a sincere attempt to understand it. The crisis emerges not from a lack of devotion, but from an excess of it—from reading more closely, thinking more deeply, and asking questions that previously had no place. It is within this tension between belief and reason that personal deconstruction often begins.
I was born into a religious family—both my parents are Seventh-day Adventists (SDA). I have to admit, they raised me the best way they knew how. From an early age, I was taught the fundamental beliefs of the SDA church: I memorized Bible verses, progressed through clubs like Adventurer, Pathfinder, and Ambassador (which were essential for any Adventist kid), and, most importantly, I learned the sacred importance of the Sabbath.
As a child, I never doubted any of it. I truly believed the SDA church was God's one true church and that its teachings were the only right way to live—just as everyone around me had impressed upon me. My faith rested entirely on the Bible as it was explained by my parents, church teachers, and Adventist elders. Whenever someone asked me about a verse, I'd confidently repeat what had been taught to me.
Never once in my childhood or teenage years was I encouraged to think for myself or to question what I was told. No one even hinted that I should. Looking back, I believe that was a fatal mistake.
This unquestioning faith remained solid through my childhood and early teens. However, things began to shift during my high school years—not through external pressure or rebellion, but through an unexpected consequence of my deepening devotion. I started reading the Bible on my own and meditating deeply. I had an intense desire to connect personally with "God." Every day I read Scriptures, memorized a verse, and meditated on it. I studied and memorized quotations from Ellen G. White's books. I did everything I thought would please "God"—praying in the middle of the night, reciting the words, "Ask and it shall be given you; seek and ye shall find; knock and the door will be opened." I claimed God's promises and begged to be filled with the Holy Spirit. Honestly, I was all in. I asked, I sought, I knocked.
Because of my efforts to deepen my connection with "God," along with my active participation in discussions and church activities, I was appointed to various leadership positions. I can simply say I was a valuable member of the church.
It was during this period that I began reading the Bible microscopically—word by word. For the first time, I started to reason independently. Questions began piling up in my mind—questions I'd never encountered before because I'd never read so carefully. Initially, this didn't alarm me. Since I'd always been taught that the Holy Spirit is our teacher, I believed He would clarify everything through prayer and community discussion. So I prayed earnestly for understanding.
In SDA churches, every Saturday there's a one-hour session where Bible teachers meet to discuss the Bible through "The Bible Study Guide," and a 45-minute session where members discuss the Bible through "The Bible Study Guide." I decided to bring up the questions that troubled me while reading on my own in both sessions. I asked them openly, but more often than not, I received no satisfying answers.
My motive was clear: I wanted to truly understand what I believed and what "God" had said through the Bible. Yet the responses I got were rarely helpful. Some would say, "What is revealed is for us, but what is hidden belongs to God." Others would assure me, "One day everything that troubles us will be made clear—in heaven, all our questions will be answered." In essence, they seemed to be telling me to just believe without understanding. But what is the point of believing if you don't even understand what you believe?
Some tried to answer based on their personal opinions, but most of those explanations didn't make sense. During my time as an SDA member, I noticed that many Adventists hold their beliefs primarily because that is how they were raised. When explaining their faith, they tend to repeat the same phrases they were taught or the ones they heard from pastors, Bible teachers, elders, evangelists, or other respected church leaders.
There is also a smaller group of earnest readers who dig deeply and search the Scriptures diligently. However, I came to believe that their search is built on the foundation of established SDA teachings. This is the group that usually steps forward to answer difficult questions, yet their knowledge seems limited to those pre-established doctrines. They always try to respond in a way that does not challenge or violate the church's core beliefs. In my view, most in this group remain "inside the box"—their minds are not truly free.
After months of bringing these questions to Bible study sessions and receiving the same unsatisfying responses—"what is hidden belongs to God" or "we'll understand in heaven"—I realized I needed to try a different approach. I eventually gave up on getting answers from others and decided to pursue more formal study. I even attended the beginner-level classes on the fundamentals of SDA faith, even though I was considered well past that stage. I didn't mind, because my only goal was to understand and resolve my questions. Unfortunately, the teachers in those classes were quite shallow. They simply repeated what they had been taught or what was officially established. When questions arose, they rarely provided genuine answers; instead, they recited standard doctrines to defend the beliefs. In my honest opinion, they were among the worst Bible teachers I have ever encountered.
When even the structured classes proved disappointing—offering the same recycled explanations I'd heard before—I reached a turning point. If the church's most knowledgeable teachers couldn't provide satisfactory answers, perhaps the problem wasn't my understanding but my approach. Finally, I decided to search on my own, this time with a crucial difference. I set aside all the established teachings that had been instilled in me and began reading the Bible with an open mind—not as an Adventist, but as someone genuinely seeking answers. Yet, as I continued reading and searching, things still didn't make sense. Many verses remained confusing, and the God portrayed in the Bible no longer made sense to me—He seemed to contradict Himself. Most of the established teachings no longer aligned with my own understanding of Scripture. Moreover, when I tried to apply these teachings to real life, they often proved impractical. Everyday logic and my personal experiences frequently contradicted what was written and what God claimed to be or to do.
Most Adventists argue that the Bible does not contradict itself. However, this belief rests on a pre-established rule imposed before reading the Bible: "The Bible does not contradict itself, so if you see a contradiction, the problem is the reader, not the Bible." I often ask myself why such a rule must be implanted in a reader's mind before reading Scripture. This notion diminishes the reader's confidence in their own reasoning abilities. As a result, whenever something does not make sense or appears contradictory, the reader is conditioned to assume they are the problem.
The more I read without doctrinal filters, the more apparent the contradictions became. It was during this period of genuine, unbiased inquiry that I finally understood what Isaac Asimov meant when he said "Properly read, the Bible is the most potent force for atheism ever conceived". This statement rang true for me. When I began reading the Bible properly—applying reason and logic—I concluded that the God portrayed does not exist. The God described is said to be all-powerful, all-knowing, loving, and aware of the end from the beginning. Yet He behaves in ways that contradict these attributes. He appears to act as though He does not know what will happen next and allows events to unfold as if He cannot prevent them. I believe that a careful and honest reading of the Bible reveals that the God portrayed within it does not exist.
This was the beginning of my deconstruction.
Holding these views in society is difficult, especially since the majority believe in the God of the Bible and are highly sensitive when discussing such matters. Some have said I have lost my mind—but who cares what they think or say? What brings me peace is knowing that I have learned to think for myself, to use my reasoning abilities, and to question. I am no longer someone who believes simply because of how I was raised or what I was taught. I have learned to question what I once believed.