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Me and Jesus

My childhood home was a place of conflict. My room was my retreat. It’s where I did my homework, drew pictures, read books, ate my dinner, and watched TV. Alone. I felt safest there, alone, or sometimes with a friend. I’ve spent my life since trying and failing to find safe people and places.

Looking around, I see I’m not the only one. Social anxiety is epidemic. The American ideal of rugged individualism and self-determination has given way to a culture of rugged trampling and being trampled.

Thirteen years ago, after a lifetime in and out of churches, I came to Christ. Since then I have watched Christians leave the church, one-by-one. A few rejected the faith outright. Others expressed their frustration or dissatisfaction with church. Some had been abused. I am sympathetic to them all.

“Me and Jesus” is a siren’s song. I, too, have been dissatisfied and frustrated. I, too, have witnessed and experienced abuse by Christians. I, too, have been tempted to give up on church and go it …

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