I used to be certain.
Not just confident or comfortable, but certain in the way only a young person can be when handed a complete system and told it explains everything. I had been taught a theology that divided the world neatly into what was true and what was false. It came with answers for every question that mattered and, more importantly, it came with the assumption that those answers were final.
I didn’t question it. Why would I? It was what I had been given. It felt like truth because it felt like home.
When I listen to people argue about theology now, I often recognize something uncomfortably familiar. I hear the same tone of certainty I once had. I see people defending systems they didn’t build but have fully embraced. They assume their conclusions are objectively true and everything else is objectively wrong.
I understand that mindset because I once lived there.

We don’t know how to love until we learn to set our egos aside
Past feels like blurry watercolor, not like the history of real people
Girl to mom after parents fight: ‘Mom, is this what love will be?’
Don’t believe angry words and deception from a wounded heart
When we feel we’ve lost control, our behavior stops making sense
Identity politics is the cancer behind Elizabeth Warren’s lie about ancestry
Emotional wounds in me quickly spot those with similar wounds
To escape hate, turn off media and deal with others in love, kindness