Of course, I was in church nearly every time the doors were open. Most of these times it was not against my will, but it wasn’t my free choice to be there, if that distinction makes sense. Looking back, I can see now that my beliefs about the importance of the local church were shaped not so much by any biblical argument I heard, but by experiencing how week after week, year after year attendance can permanently affect your soul. Even if I were to abandon Christianity tomorrow, I don’t think I would ever be able to look at or think about a church without something stirring inside me. And I think that’s important, especially when I hear a distressing number of folks suggest that it’s better to not go to church at all than to go to one that is, say, “woke.”