I counseled at a Christian camp several summers in a row, I worked in the church nursery, I voluntarily sang in the choir. I am an outsider when at church, a critic. Going further than noticing logical fallacies and historical inaccuracies in sermons, I listen for them. Occasional moments of awe, inspired by beautiful scenery or an organ solo, are infrequent and fleeting. I have become so uncertain that I have lost my dogmatism.
Gender roles are restrictive in most Protestant churches.
I feel uncomfortable in church when classmates and professors give greater respect to my opinions than do churchgoers and pastors. As a woman, the secular world accords greater value to my words and thoughts than the church does, and the desire for respect is a powerful force. Some might call it pride. Because my doubt has been, counter-intuitively, a source of liberation and happiness. My doubts, instead of keeping me awake at night and weighing me down with fears about my eternal fate, have reduced my fears and guilt.