Authentic faith inherently political
Sometimes I imagine heaven as the church basement of my childhood. I grew up in a picturesque Southern California town nestled in the foothills of the San Gabriel Mountains, where our bustling non‑denominational evangelical church seemed to anchor the community. The church basement was where life happened: funeral lunches, wedding receptions, family movie nights, holiday potlucks and more. It was a joy-filled place where I could simply show up and know I would be fed, known, and loved. That basement felt like home and maybe even heaven. In that church, I was faithfully taught the ...