I know very, very little about Christianity. It’s almost embarrassing how little I know. I was raised in a Non-denominational church, memorized the Bible verses, knew the Sunday school answers, and worked the system flawlessly.
I always assumed when I graduated college and settled down I would go to a church like the one I grew up in. I never considered that I would want anything different.
And then I read A Table in the Wilderness. And I was challenged to reconsider.
Preston Yancey is young to be writing a memoir, but that doesn’t mean his words don’t have value. You don’t have to be a Millennial to be moved. He tells the ageless, time-told story of finding everything and realizing you have nothing. Watching it all slip through your fingers, and then rebuilding your life brick-by-brick.
Preston is the most honest writer I know. I am continually moved by his courage to paint himself in a less than respectable light, because that is what makes me trust him. He is a reliable narrator, freeing us to read without doubt. He tells the story of the disenchanted, the hardened, and those who have been wounded by the flaws of the Church. Those of us who have thought we were alone can find a place in his story.
Because of stories like Preston’s, I have been given permission to seek. And I will, until I find the place I’m looking for.
I pray I will know when I get there.