My life has become a long quest to resolve a crisis of faith.
It’s not just about religion or theology, though. It’s about all of life. I didn’t even recognize what was going on when it started. At one point, everything made sense. I had a coherent worldview. That’s what I thought anyway — until the foundations of my life broke down, one by one.
When I was young, everything made sense to me. I had what seemed to be a coherent “theory of everything.” I knew The Truth, not because I had found something, but simply because I had grown up being taught exactly how things ought to be.
My understanding of The Truth wasn’t just about theology or God or anything so narrow. I had an integrated set of beliefs about reality. About everything. They all fit together — like the parts of a beautiful building.
My “theory of everything” was a work of great art which had been designed with mathematical precision — by an architect who was also a great engineer.
The central pillar of that structure of beliefs was my father. Even though I now understand that my family was deeply dysfunctional, I believed that everything my father taught me was right and good. I got angry with him at times and I pushed back in small ways, but I was ultimately too afraid to rebel against this god-like father who ruled my life.

When strangers tell us things we want to hear, we want to believe
Stunningly arrogant Vatican paper demands world economic dictator
Some Ohio State football fans believe a U.S. president has superpowers
After his death, I can finally see good in narcissistic father again
Freedom matters more than safety, even if you can’t see that
No ebooks for me: Reading is about more than simply absorbing data