Ohio: An Atheist Finds (Some) Reasons to Believe in Her Old Church
By Sarah Stankorb | November 29, 2016
It’s been years since I last had this feeling, that the place I considered a home wasn’t what I thought it was. On election night, I watched my state turn red—something I haven’t seen it do since college—and the majority of my neighbors standing with a man who to me represents bigotry and hate. I had to get up the next morning, now in Trump’s America, and make my way through my neighborhood with so many Trump signs in the yards, the blue Clinton ones already tucked away. A day before, I’d assumed progressives would win. Now I feel repelled, but where can I go?
The last time I felt like this, I withdrew and withdrew until I no longer belonged.
It’s been a decade and a half since I walked into a church sanctuary without the awkward arm-twisting of someone’s kid’s baptism. Even on those occasions, my belly fills with nerves—either my convictions will be insulted, or worse, I’ll find something worth trusting. Too long ago, the church broke my heart.
As a young woman, I had thought I was being called into the ministry. I was raised in Ohio in the United Methodist Church, a Sunday acolyte and youth group president. I was even a delegate to Youth Annual Conference, that bureaucratic training ground for future committee-loving Methodists. I grew up believing in a kind of Wonder Bread, Rust Belt Jesus—a standard bearer promising a better life.
http://religionandpolitics.org/2016/11/29/ohio-an-atheist-finds-some-reasons-to-believe-in-her-old-church/
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