I wonder if I could ever write God memoirs. I'm amazed by them. Intrigued. I sit down at Borders with a giant stack and smile. I flip through chapters, breathe in the varied writing styles, snicker at the naivety of some of their theological thoughts and contemplate the sentences of genius which follow.

I read and I wonder if I'll ever write something as pretty as I Am Hutterite. As witty as Angry Conversations with God. As profound as Confessions of a Guilty Bystander.

I want to. I want to journey with God on the page. To express my doubts and my profound thoughts of God on an ivory page, with a typeface I find flattering. I want to write things so candid that I regret publishing them. I want to pluck out my thoughts and arrange them into a story that screams for someone to read them — words that beg for someone to say "I know what you mean!"

Truthfully, I long to write solely so I can be affirmed in my doubts, in my thoughts. Somedays I feel closeted. I feel as if I am handcuffed to a set of beliefs that coincide with my school of choice. Sometimes I feel as if I have been sentenced to a life of evangelicalism and am burdened with the weight of my minority.

To be fair, most days I affirm the thoughts of my alma mater. Most days, I breathe in the truth they give me and sigh with relief that I live in a place God would be happy with.

But there are days where I wonder if that is true. Sometimes I wonder if I am too postmodern, too subjectivistic, too liberal to be happy where I am. I wonder if I simply have accepted the beliefs of my culture and am too terrified to step out on my own. I wonder if I even believe what I believe.

Today, as I flipped through Evolving in Monkey Town, Rachel Held Evans states something like, "At some point, you have to distinguish the difference between doubting God and doubting what you believe about God. One will cripple you, the other will only strengthen you."

So here I am, willfully stating that I am doubting what I believe about God, but firmly believing in God. Funny enough, there is so much comfort for me in naming my doubt, and fully indulging in it.