“What can wash away my sins,” the choir sings.
Today’s my first time in church in over ten years. My foster parents took me to church every Sunday until I turned eighteen. Fortunately, I have no bad stories about church or the people in it. Just never saw the need to go after I left home.
Recently, a post on Instagram suggested to “try Jesus” if trying everything else has left me with a void.
Can’t hurt, I reckoned.
The choir continues singing about the Blood of Jesus.
Something shifts in me.
Maybe there’s something about this Jesus after all.
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