Yeah, it's kind of shitty," I say. I add the shitty on purpose as a kind of a test. I’ve been using it a lot lately to weed the dangerous Christians out of my life: the ones who have the power to hurt me. Throw out a shit or a damn or a what the hell, and see if you get The Look. Watch to see if the person shifts uncomfortably or looks down at her hands … then you know: this is a Dangerous Christian. The kind who will not be able to handle the truth of your pain, the kind that requires some swearing.

When people confide their deep hurt to you these days, you are at a loss for what to say. A long time ago, you used to say, "I'll be praying for you," and you always meant to do that, to take those heavy burdens off their shoulders and hoist them up to the Lord. But the truth is, you usually forgot. Usually, this was the thing you said to end the conversation, a nice way to say, "I'm sorry. I can no longer handle the depth of your pain. I don't want to talk about this anymore.

You'd been in Sunday school long enough to know how the story goes: the voice of God comes down from the sky and asks you to go where you don't want to go, to do what you don't want to do. And you have to do it anyway.