When I was a little girl, my family attended church service every Sunday.

As a child, I thought church was great. Everything was cheerful and bright and everyone was happy. I loved the music, and I always brought my big bag overflowing with coloring books and markers so I could sit on the floor and color during the entire service.

I was raised as a member of the Lutheran church, one of the many sects of Christianity. I was taught that it was important to love and care for everyone. God was loving. Jesus was loving. They loved everyone, and we should, too. That was the right thing to do. Be caring, be loving, and help those in need. The fundamental idea was to be like Jesus.

I thought, "There is so much love here."

But, as it happens with growing up, the innocent facade of the world fades away into oblivion, revealing an unpleasant reality underneath.

Too many times I have heard people, self-identified Christians, talk about the homeless like they threw their lives away, saying they're lazy and they chose to live that way. "What a shame. So sad," these people will say. They then continue to live their own comfortable lives without offering aid.

That is not love.

I remember when same-sex marriage was legalized on the national level. A couple of my friends and I were volunteering at a church event when we overheard some members of the church discussing the matter. They were saying it was a horrible thing and the downfall of society. One woman said, "Now we're all going to pay."

They are allowed to disagree with same-sex marriage, but the things they were saying sounded so hateful. I felt so disappointed.

I knew Jesus would not have acted that way.

I don't remember God putting restrictions on love. God didn't pick and choose who received His love and who didn't. He never said, "This group of people is worthy of my love, but this group of people isn't." Everyone was worthy. God loved everyone. Love was what God was all about.

Where was the love in the actions and the words of these people, these self-identified Christians?

One day I woke up and realized that the love I had felt from these people as a child was gone. I couldn't find it anymore. All I could think about was how much I wanted to get away from them. I wanted to leave behind the inconsistency between their attitudes and behaviors. If this was how these people were, I didn't want to be like that.

I wanted my behaviors to be consistent with my beliefs.

I don't have a legitimate reason to doubt God's existence. The idea that there is a God is, in itself, comforting. I may one day find myself returning to the church when the love people hold for each other is greater than the hate they so easily latch onto.