My parents and my fiance parents are meeting for the first time this weekend. If I believed in god, I'd be praying to it right now.
Realistically, I shouldn't be TOO worried. My parents and future parents in-laws have more in common than my parents have with me, not the least of which being the Christian thing.
In hindsight, I should have realized that I was never going to be able to stick with the Christian thing. Even if there was even any good evidence to suggest that the Christian god existed, I would have never worshipped him anyway. For the same reason that I tend to reject the atheistic Vulcan-like materialistic logic, I reject the Christians anti-materialist, "transcendent" mindset. I love the pleasures of the flesh, and I feel the most spirtual, the most connected to others when I'm enjoying them. I love my senses. I love feeling satin and lace, soft cotton and silk. More than that, I love the feeling of flesh; holding hands, hugging, kissing... I love sex. I love the electric feeling running down my spine when my lover runs his hand down my side and settles in the small of my back. I love the radiating body heat when we snuggle close together, and the feeling of his pulse, reverberating against my flesh.
I love tastes. I love sucking on chocolate: letting it melt on on my fingers and how it dribbles over my tongue. I love fresh fruit, and the way its juices get my hand sticky. I love how juices explode all over my mouth when I first bite into them. I love well-prepared meals: how they are works of art for my tongue instead of my eyes or ears.
I love noises: music playing, whispered words in the dark, shouts from a friend across the way, wind whipping through the trees.
I love looking at things: works of art, reading books, but just examining things closely as well. I like to look at things under a microscope, or through a telescope. When I was a child, I used to amuse myself for hours watching ants crawl over blades of grass.
Christianity isn't about any of these pleasures. I can remember one time, when I was about 10, I brought a bright red balloon to church. I wasn't allowed to bring it into the sanctuary, because "balloons don't belong in church".
Another time, about the same age, at Bible camp I wore a pretty blue, off-the shoulder sun dress. It was pretty skimpy, but it was hot, and I hadn't even developed identifiable sexaul characteristics. I was treated, in front of everyone, to a lecture about how people can be identified on what they wear, and if you dress "dirty" you can expect others to treat you this way. Even as a little kid, this made no sense to me.
I like the "If it hurts no one, go ahead and do it" philosophy. Christianity says that things that don't hurt anyone hurt some intangible father figure that seems to be an evil fuck most of the time (I've read my Bible, Old Testament god's an asshole). This is all we have, we might as well make the most of it. And what we have is nueral impulses that allow us to interact with this world and pleasure-indusing hormones. We should use them.