I attended mass every Saturday night with my parents,and somethimes on Sunday mornings, and listened to the priest talk of a God who stood above me, an unreachable source of strength. This God loved me, but sinners should beware of his wrath. It was a confusing message to me, one that didn't allow any slack for my humanness. Why would God make me fallible yet expect perfection? Maybe there were people who were perfect: those who believed, relentlessly, comfortable with a God they both loved and feared. They believed so easily, without question. …
