How Much is a Life Worth?

  My preacher father raping me didn't stop me from believing in God. However, the actions of Arkansas Christian Academy, Bryant, Arkansas, made me stop believing in church.

  And that's a shame. I had planned to raise my child in the church. I wanted him to feel so at home at church that he could feel free to do what I used to do - run the aisles after church waiting for Mom to be done talking - play hide-n-go-seek in the baptismal during a weeknight church meeting that kids weren't invited to and try to squeeze past the door greeter to avoid his bear hug and fail - getting the hug whether you wanted it or not.

  Know every corner of that building and every person in it because you had entered those doors every single time they opened. To know that your bestie at church was always safe to be around because they came from a good family. You could tell because you spent so much time with them at church suppers - watching how the parents treated them.

  You know, I was always one of those back row Baptists. To me, it was just more comfortable. I didn't like sitting up front where I felt I was being stared at. But just because I was in the back didn't mean I wasn't listening.

  I was listening intently because at church I was at home. At home with my true father. My father God who protects me and never hurts me. To have that is priceless. To have it taken away by people who claim to know God is a travesty.