Getting started . . . again

I never thought I'd be where I am now. It honestly never occurred to me, in 44 1/2 years of living, that I'd ever attend a church of a denomination other than the church of my birth. To do so was to guarantee damnation, wasn't it? Or at least it was going to be much, much harder. To be born into and practice another denomination didn't exclude salvation. I believed that. But to be in the "right" place and then choose another--that was another story. That was apostasy.

But as I begin my 46th year, I find myself in a new place--emotionally, spiritually, and now physically, worshipping in a new church. In some ways, it looks the same. The liturgy is similar. The beliefs are similar. But to someone raised in the church of my birth, it is a huge scary step.

I don't know how often I'll update this blog. I doubt I will allow comments. I'm not ready to argue--I'm too broken for that--and one thing I know is that religion makes people argue. This is just a place for me to record what I'm thinking, reading, praying, and wondering. It's for me and God.