I opted out of Sunday services for about a year before bouncing around different houses of worship in Los Angeles. Eventually, I made my way to a nightclub in Downtown LA where a young, trendy megachurch pastor was preaching. His theology aligned with what I had learned at college, and his delivery was a perfect blend of enticement and intellectual stimulation. I thought I had finally found a space that felt like home. I signed up to become a member and began serving in their children’s ministry. But a year later, some things started to rub me the wrong way. I heard rumors about volunteers being pushed out of roles because they were openly queer and saw how church attendees idolized the façade of the “celebrity pastor.” They fooled me. This church was just like the others. It only pretended to be progressive and welcoming to all. In reality, “belonging” and “feeling at home” came with their terms and conditions.