Hi, Ebony,
I didn't want to vote in this poll, but I did give it lots of thought. "Hate" is a strong word, but for personal reasons, I justified using that word, because of the strong emotion that goes with it.
I was not raised a Christian nor did my family go to church. Early in my life, my mother tried taking me to church, but my dad wouldn't go. My mother's whole life was based on guilt or inhibition. My dad was a James Dean type, cool dude, liked rock and roll music that my mother detested. While mama and I would be at church, daddy would be chillin' out listening to the new star on the radio, Elvis Presley. When we'd come home, daddy would get hell. So we quit going. Fine with me. I didn't like the church nursery anyway. I used to get spanked and put in a corner in there. I was more like my daddy than my mama.
So eventually she quit dragging me to church, but daddy didn't quit chillin'. So that was pretty much my church experience. At home, mama never failed to tell me how I was sinning, and I'd get a blistering with a razor strap for being like daddy.
I grew up, got married, had children, and decided then that I would raise my children in Christianity. I guess I was trying to make-up from failing mama so. So I study Catholicism fervently, was converted, and we were all blindly baptized into the Catholic Church. At which point, I signed up for every volunteer program there was. I continued to study and became a Catholic educator for high school and adult education. It was really me! I enjoyed it and I thrived that I was able to impart religious education on people who had lived Catholicism all their lives but were able to learn from me. It was one big ego trip. I became obsessed with it. I went beyond the local parish church library and ventured out to local libaries, religious libraries, and read everything I could. I would make appointments to discuss my findings with the priest.
My husband then decided to marry the young Germany woman he had been screwing, and I was left stranded in Germany with my children, still taking them to church... still trying to believe in my relationship with the church and my family. I took my children to Rome to The Vatican, and had that awful chilling experience of the presence of evil. Then I returned to the US and divorced my husband whom I left in Germany. I went to my local priest and explained my situation about the divorce. My worst fear was losing my religion. I was absolved from that Catholic marriage, and I was allowed to go back to communion with the stipulation that I could never date another man or remarry. At the time, I was willing to follow the rules. Then, of course, I wanted to get back into the religious education, which our parish needed. I went to the priest to volunteer, and he said that "because I was a divorced woman," I could hold no official position in the church! I was a "bad" example! So I went through the process of annulment with the RCC, and it was approved. Still, my services were no longer wanted in the church. I was devastated! I felt as if I had been cast off and there was no hope to ever live my faith again. I left the church, but have not quit learning. I'll never stop learning about Christian faith, it's just that the more I learn, the more I see evil in it.
That's my story. Sorry it's long. My distrust of Christianity came from personal experience. It was such an important part of my life but it just left on the breeze one day and never came back. I tried to force it to come back so I went to Rome and to The Vatican, but it didn't come back. In fact, it was nowhere to be found anywhere! Why I hate Christianity after all this time is because I believed in it for my salvation, and it dumped me like a hot potato. My mind was telling me "you must believe," but my heart was telling me "this is all a big lie--get away from it!" So I did. I lost a big part of my life, and I sorely grieved over its loss, because I realized that none of it was true. Now, I'm thankful that I have seen the light, and I have grown so much stronger than just a weak Christian who needed to depend on a dying demigod savior who wasn't real. I learned to depend on myself. I am responsible for my own sins, and I know now that God gave me salvation when he brought me into this world and inspired me with life, just like God did for each and everyone of us. That's how I got my faith back.