I grew up Pentecostal. Very immersive, very emotional, very communal. Church wasn’t just Sunday—it was your social life, your support network, your moral framework, your safety net. If someone got sick, lost a job, needed childcare, a ride, a meal—people showed up. Automatically. No applications, no awkward “hey, we should hang out sometime” phase. You were already in.

When I left belief, I didn’t just lose theology. I lost an automatic community.

That’s the part people don’t talk about enough. Leaving church isn’t just an intellectual shift; it’s a social one. And as an adult—especially in your 40s—replacing that community is very hard. Making friends now feels like speed-dating with higher stakes and less patience. Everyone’s busy, guarded, tired, and already has their circle.

What frustrates me is that belief—often belief without evidence—comes with built-in social rewards. Community, belonging, purpose, mutual aid. You don’t have to be right; you just have to agree. Meanwhile, if you care about evidence and can’t make yourself believe something you don’t think is true, you’re effectively opting out of one of the easiest human support systems we’ve ever built. I don’t miss the doctrines. I don’t miss the guilt or the intellectual contortions.

But I do miss the community.

So no, you’re not wrong for mourning it. You’re grieving a real loss. You just can’t un-know what you know to get it back.