A long time ago, when I first started this blog, I wrote a small listicle about why I chose Satanism when I left the church. Eight years have passed since then, and I thought it was time to revisit the subject and do some reflection on what I’ve learned over the past several years. While I’ve grown a lot since I claimed the title of Satanist, I also realize that I’m still holding onto a lot of anger and resentment towards Christianity. I’ve tried to find reasons Satanism resonates with me that aren’t related to my fall from the Christian church, directly or indirectly, but honestly, it’s been difficult. Ultimately, I don’t think I’ll ever be rid of the damage Christianity did to me, but I do believe Satanism has helped me learn and grow from it.

Indulgence of Curiosity

When examining what Satanism means to me, my path started leading me towards it way back when I was in high school. I grew up in the Bible Belt, and aside from one or two trips to California to visit family, I’ve never left it. When you grow up in the Bible Belt, you learn quickly that questioning authority is unacceptable, particularly the authority of the church and the Bible. I tended not to fit in at church because I asked questions. A lot of the time, my questions went either unanswered or dismissed, and eventually, I got to the point where I stopped asking them entirely. Instead, I started rolling my eyes when things didn’t make sense to me, which got me labeled as rude and disrespectful.

In contrast, Satanism encourages questioning rather than discourages it, particularly when it comes to questioning authority. Christianity demanded my blind obedience, but Satanism doesn’t demand anything of me, much less obedience. I’m encouraged to figure shit out on my own and make decisions based on what’s best for me. My inquisitiveness is celebrated rather than suppressed.

Hatred Disguised as Love and the Concept of Sin

The main issue I ran into as a teenager was the issue of homosexuality. I never understood why it was so wrong for someone to love someone of the same gender. The people in my church were very emphatic that the Bible was clear on the subject, but from my perspective, the Bible wasn’t clear on anything, much less why homosexuality is such a problem. No amount of explanations made it make sense, either. I was so determined to change someone’s mind that the subject of my high school senior thesis was whether or not homosexuality was truly a sin.

I don’t know whether my essay changed anyone’s mind, but I got an A on it, so there’s that, at least.

What most pissed me off was the whole “Hate the sin, love the sinner,” bullshit the most homophobic and hypocritical ones would spout. It’s such an asinine thing to say, and the worst part was that they couldn’t even follow their own edict. They were—and still are—so hateful toward the LGBTQ+ community. The same people spouting that bullshit still acted like they equated the so-called sin with the person’s identity. And then they have the audacity to get offended when the people they hate so much take on their “sin” as part of their identity and celebrate it.

When it comes to Satanism, there is no such thing as sin. We have no gods to disobey, and that’s such a freeing thing. Although he was never a Satanist, many Satanists like me follow Aleister Crowley’s tenet, “Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the law.” It means something a little bit different in its original context, but the way I interpret this is that the only “good” is to be true to yourself (so long as you’re not hurting anyone). My morality comes from my sense of empathy, rather than adherence to thousands of years-old edicts only meant to glorify the one who set them.

Personal Responsibility and Accountability

Another thing that set me apart from everyone else in that hellhole of a town was an incident that occurred in my junior year of high school. My best friend was pregnant at 16. The father was a man about five years her senior, making her a victim of statutory rape. I was one of the few people who didn’t abandon her or whisper about her behind her back. Instead of the well-liked football star who manipulated her, my friend was vilified and made a pariah (and me by extension, since I chose to support her).

It’s been nearly twenty years, and I still hold it against those people.

I like to think Satanists would have handled that situation differently. I can’t know for certain, since there was only one Satanist in that town that I was aware of, and she disappeared long before this happened. But I like to think that if that town were full of Satanists rather than Christians, justice might have actually been done. Although no charges were pressed against him, at my friend’s behest (besides the rape, he was a classic psychological and emotional abuser and had convinced her that she was in the wrong, not him), I’d like to think that my friend would have gotten both the medical and emotional support she needed. I would hope that Satanists would have taught her and other girls our age about coerced consent, and that we shouldn’t be afraid to say no.

For many Satanists, their Satanism is independent of their former religion. That’s not the case for me. My Satanism is very much intertwined with my former faith and my anger and resentment toward it. But I don’t necessarily think that’s a bad thing. Christianity failed me, that’s for certain, but Satanism lifted me up where Christianity let me fall. Christianity could never live up to my values, but Satanism satisfies them.

How does your Satanism compare to your former life? Comment below with your experiences, and don’t forget to like and follow for more!