[Sunday Bible study class, 1973; I’m 12]
Me: So, how can we PROVE that God exists?
Teacher: We can’t, we just have to believe.
Me: We can’t prove that Jesus exists?
Teacher: No, again, we just have to believe.
[Two days later, to my devout Catholic mom]
Me: I’m never setting foot in church again. It’s all a fairy tale.
My home life was not pleasant for about a week, but she gave up when she saw I was serious. Except for weddings, funerals and looking at the architecture, I’ve kept that promise for 40 years.