That Special Kind of Nameless Feeling and What Stands in Its Way
Several nights ago, I went with some friends to their Wednesday night church service. I wouldn’t have normally gone; the only reason I missed American Idol that night was because I had to have proof that I went to the Baptist church at least once in order to continue playing basketball there. Don’t get me wrong; I am a Christian. I’m just one who doesn’t think going to church every Sunday is what automatically gets you a one-way ticket to the pearly gates. It has to be something more than that, doesn’t it?
Anyway, the night started out well. Better than I had expected, at least. My friends and I were dropped off at a smaller building across the parking lot from the main one. I was told that this was where the youth group held all of its activities. I guess it’s to make us feel more independent or something.
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