Religion or Just Feelings?

I was in my friend's wedding a few weeks ago. Having been a devout Christian in college before turning away from God altogether, I made many Christian friends during those years, of which she is one. I performed my bridesmaid duties nearly perfectly, even posing for the picture where we all pray over the bride as a group. It was not difficult to fake the religious parts of the wedding; living in Texas necessitates such a thing on a regular basis.

I was pleasantly surprised that the emphasis on Christ was not as strong as I'd expected in the ceremony and the toasts at the reception. I remembered previous weddings where such attention was given to what a great guy Jesus was to bring the couple together, not what a good guy the groom must be by his own merit. But this wedding properly gave credit to the groom, an extroverted loud-laugher with a knack for making people feel included, and the bride, a generous wild child who always helps out her friends. 

I was glad that they were showcased instead of the deity they both believe in (Christian weddings, while trying to center God along with the couple, can end up feeling like just another generic church service). But there was enough Christian elements that I recalled old memories of just how devout I used to be, along with thoughts of whether that Emily would have eventually had a wedding like this.

The bride and groom had once gone on a mission trip, separately in consecutive years, to a country that I'd visited for the same reason before them. When i had arrived back in the US after said trip, I went to a restaurant with my Dad, and before we ate our food he asked me to pray. Instead I just broke down crying, because the relief of knowing that I could say God's name out loud was too much to handle. I felt so liberated compared to the country I'd spent six weeks in. 

At the time, this emotional reaction was read as a movement of the Holy Spirit within me, and it went down in the memory of my dad and myself as one of my most spiritual moments to date. But now, looking back at it with atheist eyes, I do not see it that way. 

Being white, Christian, and middle class in Texas meant that most of my attributes were approved by the majority culture that surrounded me, and I never had to hide any part of myself. Coming back from a place that wasn't predominantly Christian was the closest I'd ever come to feeling the sting of persecution. I assume this would be a similar feeling to someone coming out as gay and talking freely about it with someone for the first time.

So I now view the outburst that day as a celebration of the freedom I had to be genuine in public and true to myself. In other ways I will experience that again, for example, if I live in a city or state that is predominantly liberal, or if I one day explore my sexuality.

The Christian way is to annex all spiritual or emotional experiences as something that relates to God; I wonder if they know that the same kind of experiences happen when the idea of god is far from one's consideration.

I don't condemn my friends for believing in religion or God, as belief is a psychological need. But the strong feelings experienced in my past, while at the time being held as evidence for something God was doing in my heart, can now be properly classified as mere human emotional incidents.