Being spiritual-but-nonreligious sounds good in theory—at least it’s better than attending antiquated religious institutions. We can do that. And we have. A growing number of us identify as spiritual-but-nonreligious.

Breaking away from old psychological memes requires a Herculean effort in many cases. In essence, we are outgrowing a worldview while maintaining a relation-ship of sorts. Transcending an ideology can feel like going through a divorce and having to stay friends because of the kids.

Growth seems to evolve from a narrow-minded, constricted worldview (selfish) to an ever-more-encompassing worldview (multiperspective caring). To put it simply, the more self-centered you are, the lower you tend to land on these scales, while the more perspectives you can entertain—the more empathy you can show and the better your ability to see things from a variety of viewpoints—the higher you land on these scales.

Our generation may be able to listen to sermons in a Joseph Campbellish way, treating Bible stories as instructional myths pointing to a deeper communal reality—that is, if we haven’t replaced them with Star Wars myths or their equivalent—but don’t ask us to believe with our heart and soul.

Obviously, not everyone in Texas attends church for purely social or nostalgic reasons. There are still plenty of people here who feel the need to advertise their allegiance to God by telling me that they are good Christians, by continuously posting prayer pictures of Jesus on Facebook, or by telling me that no matter how ethically I live, I will surely go to Hell if I don’t accept Jesus Christ into my heart.

For a number of people, church attendance seems to be primarily a social affair, the act of meeting other people outside of the pressures of work. For others it is pure business/politics. I get it. It’s important to have access to a community like the one a church provides.

The irony of having had such a secular upbringing is that I now live in Texas. Oh, the irony. Here in Texas, it is not only acceptable to go to church and have the mythic belief structure of an eleven-year-old—no, we are considered the odd ones out because we don’t go to church... at least that was how it seemed to us in the beginning.

The idea of a personal God who protects us, loves us, and then punishes us by not allowing us into Heaven, but instead casts us into Hell for eternity if we haven’t met his standards of living, is so outlandish that it can only be taught to children who don’t know any better—which, by the way, is how it’s done. If a person hasn’t been introduced to this mythical idea about God in early childhood, he or she becomes increasingly hard to preach to.

Is our rational and self-reliant generation really supposed to accept the idea that God the Almighty not only created the universe but, interestingly enough, also has a stake in our lives?

...no matter how liberal a church may seem, Christian dogma still revolves around an ancient, paternalistic image of God the Father, who quite frankly isn’t much more believable than the Easter Bunny or Santa Claus.