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.

Christmas looks different now, but I still see joy with eyes of a child
What are the odds that gambling improves your economic future?
Political systems built on coercion will always produce cheats, liars
Our reactions to others’ suicides say something about how we view life
Lesson of ‘judgment day’ error? Certainty doesn’t indicate truth
If online attack confirms your biases too nicely, it just might be a fake
Love’s closest counterfeit sounds like love but acts like selfish need
Ghost from my past haunts me, but leaves me without answers
Something in us usually wants to believe next year will be different