My husband and I had quietly taken a break from church last fall because of Trump. We'd been in church leadership for years, and most of our friends went to church with us. Politics wasn't preached from the pulpit, but we had slowly watched the congregation turn more conservative, supporting a president who is everything Christianity isn't supposed to be...or so we had thought. We soon realized that when Christians claimed Pro-Life, they weren't talking about immigrants, LGBT, or, in white evangelical churches, black lives. We weren't sure how to worship next to people who supported a president who talked about women the way he does, who embraces corruption, who befriends our country's enemies while turning away the rest of the world, and whose ego supersedes all. When Trump was impeached, we saw our fellow church goers publicly mourn this, as if it was unfair, as if Trump didn't deserve more than this. That was when we made the decision to leave for good. I feel good about our decision, especially since things have only gotten worse under Trump's leadership in the face of COVID and BLM. To know that the church still stands behind this president who has run our country into the ground is beyond me. And yet, I still mourn the things we gave up, particularly the closeness of some of our friendships, the sense of community, and our relationship with our pastors. I just don't understand how the church can praise Jesus and Trump in the same breath.

I’m all over the place, but I try to be honest in all of it. Find my books and musings at

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