Hello, my dusty blog. I wish I had the time and energy to do anything more than just reminisce about the good old days when I actually wrote stuff here. Maybe again. But until then, here's a link to an elsewhere essay.
I was nineteen and was trying to be a Christian again, not because I’d fallen in love with Jesus but because I’d fallen in love with a boy who wanted to marry a good Christian girl. (There’s more to that story, but for now it’s enough to know that it has a happy ending: we broke up. Thank God.)
I’d been thinking I’d be a Unitarian Universalist, because I loved church and was constitutionally religious, but couldn’t quite think my way out of agnosticism. Unitarian Universalism wasn’t quite Jesusy enough for the then-boyfriend, and truth be told, it wasn’t quite Jesusy enough for me. When I worshipped in the funky, cerebral UU church in town, I missed Jesus. I missed the stories he told, and I missed the stories people told about him. I missed the bread, and I missed the cup.