My nineteen-year-old eyes widened as I listened, speechless. How could my fiancé excuse his dishonesty like that? How could he think that way? He was a Christian. We read the Bible together. I trusted him.
How could he lie to me?
In the aftermath of my teenage betrayal, I was baptized into adulthood in a pool of tears. It felt shocking and terrible, but it was only the beginning. Months and then years began to normalize the experience. Best friends stab you in the back. Boyfriends are never who they appear to be. Pastors let you down. Churches are full of hypocrites. I felt like the psalmist lamenting in Psalm 14:2-3, “The Lord looks down from heaven on the children of man, to see if there are any who understand, who seek after God. They have all turned aside; together they have become corrupt; there is none who does good, not even one.”
Eventually, cynicism eclipsed joy as I began to see life as a game of survival. There was only one rule: Trust no one.