I found God in a folding chair

I didn't find God in a church. I found God in a basement that smelled like burnt coffee and regret, sitting in a metal folding chair with a Styrofoam cup, listening to a man with prison tattoos talk about gratitude.

I'd been an atheist my entire adult life. Proudly, loudly, argumentatively atheist. The kind who would corner someone at a party and explain why their faith was a cognitive bias. I was also, for most of that time, drinking a bottle and a half of wine a night, but we don't need to talk about consistency.