I was raised a Roman Catholic, baptized on Easter. Went to Church every Sunday, did their whole Bible study program from start to finish. I had my first communion at 10 or 11 or something, and at 14, I think, I went on retreat for the church youth out at some resort in the woods fifty miles away or so, to prepare for Confirmation, which I feel was quite a transformative event. While I don't think I ever really believed in God (I am far too pragmatic), I never really bothered to think much about it until I saw what happened at that retreat.
They had us write down little things about ourselves on little clay pots first thing in the morning, and place them in brown paper bags. Then later on, we were called into the small auditorium, where they had the bags on a table, and one of the camp leaders proceeded to give us a lecture, half the time screaming, and I am being completely honest about the volume, about how we were all immoral, sniveling sinners who wouldn't give a second thought about murdering people in the streets. Again, I am not exaggerating. While she ranted on like this, she would pick up random bags and smash their contents on the floor to drive her points home with a crash. Many of the kids, even the girls were crying their little eyes out.
After everyone was sufficiently emotionally crushed, they sent them to line up to confess before the local priest. I politely declined.
I think everyone here probably knows where I stand right now.