Searching for Sunday: Loving, Leaving, and Finding the Church

by Rachel Held Evans

I have friends who struggled for years to disentangle themselves from abusive, authoritarian churches where they were publicly shamed for asking questions and thinking for themselves. I know of others who were kicked out for getting divorced or for being gay. Those are important stories to tell, but they are not mine. I have no serious injuries to report, no deep scars to reveal. I left a church of kind, generous people because I couldn’t pretend to believe things I didn’t believe anymore, because I knew that no matter how hard I tried, I could never be the stick-figured woman in the Vote Yes On One sign standing guard in front of the doors. I didn’t want to be. We crossed the parking lot, which still smelled of fresh asphalt, and climbed into the safety of our car. As soon as the doors shut, I put my head in my hands and cried, startled to tears by the selfishness of my own thoughts: Who will bring us casseroles when we have a baby?