Why I’m not a Christian

I was asked recently if I was a Christian.

I’ve been asked this before.

I tell them I’m neither. 

In the early 1990s, I was living in San Francisco.

It was the golden age of hip-hop and I was one of its most popular stars.

I was doing my thing.

But my friends and I became involved in the “culture wars,” a battle between two camps that fought over which music would define who we were as a culture.

One camp wanted to redefine hip-hopping as a political act and another camp wanted it to be a fun way to be creative.

I’d been asked if I thought I was part of either camp. 

At the time, I had no clue what to make of the conflict.

The truth is, I’d never been a Christian myself, and I didn’t really have a sense of what it meant to be one.

But then, in a fit of self-pity, I went to church. 

Afterward, I met a guy who told me about how his church had been burned down by the Communists in the early 1980s.

He told me to go there.

I went there, and after an hour, I realized that I was being taken to heaven.

I thought, How could anyone be taken to hell?

It’s such a beautiful place. 

I didn’t believe it at the time.

It’s just a myth. 

However, it’s one that still resonates with me to this day.

At the time I didn�t understand the meaning of God.

I just thought that he was some big cosmic force who was holding back all the forces of evil. 

And then, during my stay at the church, I began to hear about what the Church called the “cult” or the “fringe” of Christianity.

The term meant something different to different people. 

The fringe was an umbrella term for people who believed in the existence of some other God, or who didn’t think God existed.

They saw themselves as part of some larger movement or movement of Christians that didn’t conform to mainstream Christianity. 

There was a lot of talk about the “church” in those days.

The word was everywhere. 

One of my first encounters with the term came from an older pastor who used it to describe me in a sermon. 

He said that my faith was a cult, and that it was a secret. 

“Do you have a secret, a secret you want people to know?”

I asked. 

This was my first time hearing the word cult, which I have to say was a huge shock.

I didn´t have any real knowledge about what it was, but I had always been told that cults were all kinds of crazy, weird, weird things that people did in order to get closer to God. 

But this guy was telling me that I had a secret to the Church.

I had to go. 

So, I left my home in the suburbs of San Francisco, took a bus, and boarded the bus to St. Paul, Minnesota. 

A few months later, I returned to my home town, where I spent most of the next decade, working as a teacher, running a successful real estate business, and getting married. 

That same year, I attended the annual St. Peter’s Confirmation, an annual gathering of the Christian church.

This year, it was my turn to speak. 

As I was seated in the front row, I felt the need to show my support for the newly-elected pope.

It didn’t take long before the applause started. 

When I walked out of the church to take my seat, I could see the tears in his eyes.

I could tell by his tone that he had just been told the truth. 

We were just sitting there, talking, when this woman came up and said, “Pope, you are the leader of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.” 

“Thank you, Miss Stacey.”

She said.

“Thank you.” 

She hugged me, then she said, “I’m going to talk to the bishop. 

You want to talk with him?” 

“Yes, Miss.” I said,

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