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.

In the middle of world’s madness, happiness makes me think of her
If you participate in sham of voting, you’re responsible for what it creates
Maybe it wasn’t correct choice, but I’m not having surgery Friday
Members of Congress can’t tell constituents ‘Merry Christmas’
In spite of the ridiculous imagery, I still want to rescue my princess
This is my new wife, Claire — but she doesn’t actually exist
My need to make others perfect reflects my fear I’m not in control
THE McELROY ZOO: Meet Tommy, who needs a home before winter