Churched: One Kid's Journey Toward God Despite a Holy Mess

by Matthew Paul Turner

But scientific matters don’t hold much weight in Christian cultural claims, so it probably wouldn’t count even if proven.

Even if Nashville doesn’t lead with the most churches, I’ve always said that one of this city’s chief exports is Jesus. God’s only Son gets shipped, bused, couriered, radioed, televised, faxed, e-mailed, and, if need be, dropped like a bomb from twenty thousand feet in places all over the world because of what happens here in Nashville. In many ways, we are God’s command center. His Pentagon. His newer Jerusalem.

It was awkward inviting strangers to confess, especially since we were told to present the gospel in a way that made them think we were doing them a favor. Trying to convince somebody you knew to drop to his knees and repent of his sinful ways was one thing. You were usually aware of a friend’s or an acquaintance’s sinful ways, and if not, you had enough access to his personal space to research and then make an educated guess. Sometimes you just needed to open a friend’s fridge or medicine cabinet to see what he was up to. Find beer or a half-used bottle of vanilla extract? He was an addict. Box of condoms? He was having sex, possibly with strangers. Rolaids or Pepto-Bismol? He felt guilty about his life. With strangers, you didn’t have access to any of that information.