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.

Time and attention are flawless guides to what a person values
What if we’re more talented than our inner fears allow us to admit?
Who was this attractive woman? Why did her story not ring true?
‘Free money for everybody’? Is it smart for principled libertarians?
To heal from narcissistic abuse, you have to stop hurting yourself
Maybe it wasn’t correct choice, but I’m not having surgery Friday
The ‘man in the mirror’ always turns out to be our worst enemy
Without meaning, most are blind to rot destroying their own lives
Little boy for whom I was named shows what my mother hoped for