When I was fourteen, my stepbrother shot himself in the head.
When I was seventeen, my youth pastor said that anyone who committed suicide would go straight to hell, and I got up and walked out, and it was the beginning of me questioning everything I had ever believed. What kind of God?, I asked myself endlessly. What kind of God would let someone suffer so endlessly, and then add an eternity of torment on top of it? I didn’t want anything to do with a God like that. I didn’t want anything to do with people who believed in a God like that.
For a long time, I was angry. I was bewildered, and I was frustrated, and I was so very, very sad. We didn’t talk about Scott after he died. We didn’t talk about his shy smile or his warm brown eyes or the way he…
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