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.

Grief keeps reopening the door my loving mother walked out of
$22,600 for a library router for four users? No wonder states are broke
Petty politics as usual just might be Chris Christie’s bridge to obscurity
How do we intuitively see truth through the fog of perception?
As I faced my father’s narcissism, I had to confront who I’d become
When I feel too much ambition, my ego has gotten too inflated
There’s hatred, evil and injustice, but this is the ‘real’ America, too
I often need this warning label: ‘Does not play well with others’