Growing up, I was forced to go to a church I never liked. The scripture felt foreign. The people didn’t speak my language. The grape juice at communion tasted off. I didn’t feel God in me.  The sermons caused me to tune out.  I got bored. I wrote stories on the backs of offering envelopes. And as soon as I went to college and had a say over what happened on Sundays, I stopped going to church.

Lessons in unexpected places

We are not church going people, but we attend one time a year for the childrens’ service on Christmas Eve. It is mainly because our kids ask us to take them and we feel a sort of obligatory duty to expose them to church if they are asking. We figure they will listen to the pastor speak about love, kindness and being a part of something bigger then themselves. All good stuff. This year however, it was I who learned the greatest and most unexpected lesson.

Please welcome Pink community member Mattie, here with some thoughts that are no doubt shared by many. Thank you, Mattie, for bringing this important point to light.

I’ve been reading Owning Pink almost every day since Lissa started writing last year, and I love what Owning Pink is all about. Whether it’s about being authentic, health, creativity, or loving community, I’m all over it, and it resonates with who I feel I truly am. But one thing keeps tripping me up - I don’t believe in God. I just don’t. I kind of wish I did. I love the idea of a loving Universe that guides our paths and lobs signs at us like a big Daddy throwing balls at a Little League game.