Why I Stopped Going to Church

Jennifer Maggio

I grew up in the Deep South in the middle of the Bible belt. Going to church was a way of life for us. We went to church every Sunday and most Wednesdays. And almost everyone I knew did the same. Interestingly, however, my parents rarely went with me. From the time I can remember, I was driven to the front door of the church and dropped off, then picked up after services were done. As I grew older, this made me very uncomfortable. All of my friends had their parents with them. Why couldn’t mine just come to church, too?!

One Sunday, the pastor delivered a message on families and the importance of staying strong, staying in the Word, and supporting one another. He wanted to pray over families and invited us all to the front of the church to spread across the altar and stage for prayer time together, as a family. My twin sister and I, who were only about ten at the time, slowly walked forward. We sat next to each other and watched as other families – real families, complete families – prayed with each other. We sat alone, embarrassed. I could not wait for service to be over so that I could bolt out the front door. I am certain I was every shade of red, as I hurriedly rushed to my father’s car.

I finally mustered up the courage to ask him why…

Read the source article…


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