how I remember it.) By that time I was living in a way that would have met just about anybody’s standard as a “real,” committed Christian. But this religion of so-called grace often felt more to me like drudgery than delight. No matter how many rules I kept and how disciplined my life was, I walked around with an ever-present sense of guilt. In the deepest part of my heart, I knew—knew—God was not really pleased with me, because there was always something I could be doing better. The really good Christians