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Kindle Notes & Highlights
In my life, I’d attended 3,200 events at a half-dozen churches. Passed catechism tests all through Awana. Read so many Christian apologetics manuals that my devout mother laughed at the pile. Studied the whole Bible cover-to-cover twice, memorized chunks, done daily devotionals, and loved correcting adults’ scripture references. Won awards for beating other children at explaining popular Western Christianity. But I couldn’t figure out what we believed.
“What if,” she whispered, smooth knees screaming near my leg, “being created is being chosen?”
When we sat up, she said, “I think I’m dirty, but I know I’m adored.” Feeling daybreak, I said, “You can only pick one. Say it.” She admitted, “adored,” and made me answer, too. It physically hurt to call myself beloved.
And don’t tell me to memorize my Bible unless you’ve accepted I’ll use it against yours.
