Eleven years ago I stopped going to church. For a 20-year-old who had felt a real, true connection with the person of Jesus, this was an agonizing decision to make. I witnessed so much unraveling about the faith I had been raised in -- and I felt in my conscience I could no longer profess this faith, nor condone the horrific actions of people who claimed to lead it.
My grandmother, an open-minded spiritual person, played a pivotal role during these early "unchurched" days, offering comfort and understanding when most of the Christians around me were impatiently tapping their feet and wishing I'd "just get over it."
The last 10 years have been spent wrestling with myself and my God, asking in a million different ways: Is this all a farce?Read More