I remember going to the new church with my mother. She wanted a fresh start. After the divorce, she just wanted to fold her hands without anyone judging her ring finger. The choices seemed plentiful enough. But after being turned away from communion in one, and altogether in another, it was all a little too “no room in the inn.” The second one offered for me to stay and go to Sunday School. I declined and chose to stay with the banned.

I mention it only because I saw the sign at the airport bookstore — “I’m with the banned.” I smiled for all the books and, too, for all the readers who have found themselves turned away from one door or another. All the stories will be told. Will find a way out. Will find a way in. And this is what will save us.

There will always be churches that won’t ask you to belong. Clubs you can’t get into. Groups who will snicker and turn their backs. This is not your story, only theirs. You get to chose your own faith. Your own path. Your own journey. You can step to your own beat. Create your own soundtrack. And if someone dares to claim, “I don’t recognize that song,” you simply tell them, “Well, I’m with the banned.“