Photo by Kyler Nixon on Unsplash

I was 12 years old when I stopped believing all Christians were good people.

We had gone to this particular church since I was around 5 or 6 years old. Even though it was ultra-conservative — no pop music, no movies, women didn’t wear pants — everyone seemed kind and loving.

Members greeted each other with, “Good morning, Brother Anderson,” or “How are you doing, Sister Miller?” They would ask about the older…