First brave step out

Until about eight months ago the only person who knew I was going through a theological transition was me. During the time leading up to that I played in my church's praise team and participated in a lot of church events.
I remember specifically one of the more active members in my church asked me how my relationship with God was. I'm not much for lying, but I didn't want to come out and say "I'm trying to figure out whether God really exists or not," so I told him about the things I was doing in the church. He told me it was easy to get caught up in doing things but not really progressing spiritually. He went on to invite me to a small group which I declined, but I was impressed with his ability to perceive the way I skirted the issue. He was actually quite right. I wasn't growing spiritually, I was relearning reality.
I did struggle with some things along the way. The biggest one might have been my relationship with my wife.
My wife is the nicest person I have ever met. She is amazing in so many ways and is absolutely my balancing force in life. When I'm stuck in zig, she suggests zag. When I think black, she reminds me of white. No matter what, she is always there for me though.
During my transition I felt like I couldn't say anything to her. I'm the one who fed her knowledge about why the creation story was true. She was a huge encouragement in my return to faith. I had no desire whatsoever in sending her down this crazy path I was on.
The problem was I spent quite a bit of time studying and analyzing everything I was learning and I'm not big about talking about work which meant that the deep meaningful conversations about nothing and everything she was used to us having were conspicuously absent.
It was obvious to her that I was being unusually silent.
To complicate things more she was pregnant and I know she knew I was hiding something but she didn't know what. I'm sure a million things went through her head and she would ask me to just talk sometimes and my brain would strain under the enormous weight of my secret.
We were on a long drive one day. The ride was fairly silent because the radio was low to keep my son from waking up and I was sitting in the driver's seat trying to build up the courage to tell her what I was going through.
I remember looking over at her pregnant belly and she said "So.... do you want to talk about something?"
I felt like I might throw up. I had felt this way many times in trying to bring this topic up. I have the ability to think very strategically and remain calm in the most grave of situations, but telling the woman of my dreams what I was going through was scary.
I was scared she might have doubts about our whole relationship. Or that this might be something about me she couldn't accept. Or she just wouldn't understand. We were about to have a baby, how would she react to my change of heart? Would she even see me as the man she married?
I got the first few words out one at a time with an unsure pause between each one as if I was going to just stop talking. I finally got the first sentence out. Then a second.
She was attentive, calm, not upset at all.
I spent about 30 minutes talking about the entire process before we arrived at our destination.
It was a relief for both of us. I had prefaced everything I said by telling her I had no desire to change her beliefs and I still don't. I love that she is more free spirited than I am. She is my window to the fantastical and I would never want to suppress that.
I couldn't believe how well the conversation went and it definitely reopened a flood gate of communication between us and I was relieved at least one person knew my secret and having told her I was a little sad that I had held it in for so long.
I also explained how it changed my view of our marriage, changes that I am constantly evaluating through new eyes.
I don't think of our marriage as a three-way promise between my wife, God and myself anymore. It's just my promise to her and hers to me. I can be assured that every loving action comes from myself, and not out of some spiritual obligation.
For someone who is quite disconnected from faith, the difference may seem irrelevant, but I assure you it is massive. It comes with freedoms and fears, but I know in the end my love and commitment to my wife is my own. Can it be shaken? Maybe, but my commitment to her goes well beyond what I could hope to  understand in such a short lifetime. There are no stories of courage without fear and I truly look forward to the development of our story every day whether it's boring or intensely exciting. That's what courageous love is all about.
I am with her because I sincerely choose to be.
Since then she has continued to be amazingly supportive and understanding and I have continued to be open with her about what's going on with me.
It really opened my eyes to how homosexuals must feel and I very much related to a ted talk covering just that issue. It was my first step out of my closet and it felt great.
But how would everyone else react to my change?

I think I owe someone an apology

It was over a year and a half ago when my long journey in transition began and during that time there has been a gigantic shift in the way I think about things.
As a believer, a lot of how and what I thought was based completely on the Bible.
The whole reason I started down the road of study which lead me to here is because I was honestly concerned for my uncle and his family. Sometimes he would post things to facebook about how thanking God after a natural disaster was like thanking a serial killer, or that religion was a geographic birth lottery, or comments of stories about religion around the world killing people and having barbaric practices. I butted heads with him more than once needless to say.
It made me mad on some levels as well as being concerned. I'm not one to sit idly by while something happens that i don't like. I HAD to do something and staying silent just isn't me. I accused him of being without morale compass because that compass comes from God, or so I thought. I pressed him about how logical our faith was and that we didn't lack the reason to make an informed decision.
I think what really put it over the top for me though was when my uncle declared he was now an evangelist for atheism.
This was in stark contrast to who he was before. He had spent a lot of time trying to get into Christian ministry. He went to church and participated in the band. He had a degree from a Christian college.
His explanation was that he hadn't lost his fervor for spreading the truth, he just learned new truth.
I had received messages from other family members thanking me for standing up for our faith, because we were concerned as a collective for my uncle's whole family.
Being on the other side now, I understand how alienating that must have been and probably still is.  There must have been a long line of difficult choices that lead up to that point. Don't get me wrong, my whole family still loves them and would do anything for them, but they also are eager to have the opportunity to minister to them. What's really awkward about it, is that it's genuinely out of love. Its because they care. I'm nearly certain that this is why my uncle's family didn't go to our reunion. I'm sure they would have loved most of it, but maybe just didn't want to have to hear all the religious talk and ministering that went with it.
At the time I honestly didn't consider that though. What I really thought was that my uncle's life wasn't going the way he would like for it to, which made him angry with God, which lead him to atheism. I think most Christians probably think this way. I think people will think the same thing of me when I do "come out" so to speak. A perfect example of this is the movie "God's not Dead."
The problem is that for my uncle, or anyone else for that matter, to be mad at God, he had to believe in God.
To further complicate the matter, I'm sure there are a few "atheists" which fit into the category of being mad at God, and there are a lot of atheists who devote their time to attacking the church with anger which certainly gives off the same appearance to a Christian.
I guess before I transitioned I couldn't identify with someone who didn't believe God existed at all.
Now it could be that my uncle's life wasn't going as he planned, and maybe that's what lead him to the realization of the truth, but I don't know, we've never had that conversation. It may have been he was trying to figure out the meaning of some passage, got confused and went down a similar road of research.
I wonder if people will think I was mad at God? I'm financially more stable than I've ever been, I was about to have my second child and everything in my life is still on an upward swing I feel.
I was also upset because his two boys were definitely believers before. How would this affect them psychologically and spiritually? I felt like it was so unfair to his children for him to put such a big change on them.
Really I was the one being unfair though. Who am I to judge how he parents and what is best for his kids? I know for a fact not everyone will agree with how I raise my kids, but I do look out for what's best for them. I'm not a perfect parent, and neither is my uncle, but its definitely not my place to think hes in the wrong for telling his kids what he thinks is true.
I doubt it will have any lasting psychological effects either. I eventually found out (spoiler alert) that Santa Claus, the easter bunny, and the tooth fairy were all fictitious, and I still turned out (relatively) fine. No one knows his children better than he does and his love for them compels him to do his best, even when it is tough.
As a Christian I just couldn't empathize with how he was thinking at the time though. In hindsight the saddest part of all to me is that, at least on some level, he felt like the family couldn't accept him and I was the prime example of why he felt that way. Even with my good intentions I was actually working against the greater good.
I honestly don't even know whether to say I was wrong. Is it wrong to show concern for some one's soul? My gut reaction is to justify my concern because it was out of love, but does that make it okay?
Its a tricky question because I still think treating your neighbor as yourself applies. As a Christian I would have wanted someone to confront me, but from this side, I could see how it might be uncomfortable, especially if you're getting a mini-sermon every time you turn around. Obviously I'm still philosophically exploring these ideas because at the moment, when people discuss religious matters I have no issue discussing things and honestly, I'm happy for them. Seriously. I lost something in this transition: the belief in the impossible. Something every true believer still has. I enjoy seeing their delight at it and I truly don't find it offensive. But I also haven't had anyone try to bring me back to 'the truth' either and I know I don't want a constant barrage of it.
So I think I owe an apology, because what I thought and did in the end was at least in part out of anger and most definitely did not promote the unconditional love family should have for one another.