She sits across the Starbucks table from me, lower lip quivering, eyes slowly filling.
“I’ve believed and believed and had more faith than I ever imagined I could have, and He hasn’t taken it away.”
Anger and hurt are written across her face. Across her heart.
And I? I’m grieved. I’m grieved because I’ve watched us — the western evangelical church — in all our good intentions, create this monster theology.
Know someone who'd appreciate this?