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.

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Being disconnected from love as close to hell as we’ll find on Earth
I’m a liar — and you are, too; most of all, we lie to ourselves
Why are so many of us afraid of the love and happiness we want?
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As you grow, learn to let go of things that no longer serve you
I support MLK’s original goals, but not what his birthday represents
I keep trying to find the light, but my choices leave me in darkness