I grew up a conservative evangelical in the 1980s. At four, I was enthralled by Sunday School flannelgraphs of Adam and Eve, Noah and the Ark, and David and Goliath. At the ripe age of 11, I made a personal decision to follow Jesus while watching Billy Graham. As an evangelical teenager, I coolly strutted to the Christian section of the record store to buy DC Talk’s Jesus Freak. My teenage political views were informed by Pat Robertson. I followed Kirk Cameron’s career after the end of Growing Pains. You get the picture.
Then, about 12 years ago, I had a crisis of faith. For the first time, I began asking questions about the religion I had been taught as a child. Rethinking my beliefs was a long, emotionally difficult experience for me, partly because I felt like I couldn’t tell anyone in my evangelical social network about my doubts. I felt a sense of shame, like I was betraying my church . . . or maybe even God.
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