I was a good Christian girl raised by good Christian parents in a good Baptist church here in the Midwest. My mother put me in dresses for Sunday morning services, my father wore a suit and tie to church, and we sang the century-old hymns in the sanctuary. When I went to college, I went by the book and fell in love with a cute and smart church-going boy, dating him chastely for three years in our church community. When we married, our wedding party was full of our church friends, and on our wedding night we gave our virginity to each other. Again, I was a good little Christian girl, raised to believe that the church was a city on a hill, a beacon of hope, the source of capital-T "Truth" and capital-L "Love". But Life came along, and yanked on the threads of my immaculately-knit beliefs. And when my life's edges started becoming jagged and unraveled - long before my issues included thoughts of divorce - it was the Christians who abandoned and rejec