I didn’t grow up in an environment that made me want to like the God-guy. My parents would have argued that statement then, but I think my mom understands what I mean by that now.
I didn’t like God. I believed He was real. Real weird and real mean and real biased and real absent and maybe bipolar.
A few years ago I experienced Him. Not in a read of scripture or a miracle or a three point sermon, but in a head-over-heels kinda way experience. It’s not a unique story. And yet it is. I like telling about it very much.
There is more telling about it in the pages.