I watched scriptures that I had grown up with be twisted into knives right in front of my eyes and I sat complacently with my hands by my side, not fighting the emptiness that came with each breath of silence. I disclosed information and sorrows that I had never shared with anyone before and watched as they were spat back into my face in the form of a word called "sin." I was dirty. I was shamed. I was forced to share the most embarrassing, vulnerable, and bare moments in my life with leaders of the church. They instructed me to write down every sin I could ever recall committing and read it aloud before a group. And then sit and soak with that sin as I waited in line to get to the light.
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