About a year ago, I wrote a letter titled "Hope". It was about finding faith again, about wanting a spiritual community, about falling in love with it all again. The morning after I wrote that letter, I stepped into an Episcopal church on the first Sunday of Advent. The church was small and earnest, proudly uncool—no skinny jeans or pop culture references. I loved it immediately. It felt like the group of Christians who identify as "miscellaneous" (AKA me) belonged there.
9 – Hope, Part 2
9 – Hope, Part 2
9 – Hope, Part 2
About a year ago, I wrote a letter titled "Hope". It was about finding faith again, about wanting a spiritual community, about falling in love with it all again. The morning after I wrote that letter, I stepped into an Episcopal church on the first Sunday of Advent. The church was small and earnest, proudly uncool—no skinny jeans or pop culture references. I loved it immediately. It felt like the group of Christians who identify as "miscellaneous" (AKA me) belonged there.