When I was 14, my entire class converted to Jesus freakery. It was an experience no less scarring for being triggered by a charismatic, pelvis-thrusting boy, the lead singer in a Jesus-rock opera, and being therefore as much hormonal as theological. Overnight, this group of smart, argumentative young minds became a swirling sea of god-bothering glossolalics in which my two friends and I formed ...
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