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.

The Fourth Amendment? Hmmmm. No, we’ve never heard of that one
At life’s end, who we’ve loved will matter more than what we’ve owned
Search for sexual pleasure can slowly destroy genuine intimacy
When you’re finally facing death, how many people will love you?
We’re neither friends nor enemies, just strangers who share the past
Old photos have me thinking about who I was then, how far I’ve come
My books are time machines that tell you where (and who) I’ve been
‘Let’s Make a Deal’: How democracy is like a dumb old game show
Didn’t we already try secession? Politicians don’t like losing control