I would like to sit in the back row of a church.

I know I’ll feel scared, nervous, worried about sitting in the wrong place or intruding on a clique, unsure of the etiquette after so long.

I know I’ll feel acutely all the pieces of me and my lifestyle that come into direct conflict with the things preached here, the things these people lobby and vote against.

I know I will feel like I don’t fit in.

But I would like to feel the washing away of sins, the quieting of confusion, the knowledge of something eternal and good. I would like to feel that deep reassurance, that balm for suffering that has kept generations of people in the pews — even people who have strayed as far as I have.

I would like to sit in the back row of a church.

I would like to feel grace.

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