I rolled over in bed, groggily squinting at the clock. It was already 1 p.m. The cafeteria would stop serving lunch soon. I better not go to lunch, I thought. Everyone will be in their church clothes, and I feel bad that I didn't go to church.
The doorknob rattled, and my roommate flew in wearing her Sunday best. Feeling like a heathen lying there in bed, I muttered, "How was church?"
"Great," she chirped and proceeded to tell me about the service. "You wanna go to lunch?"
"No thanks," I assured her. "I think I'm gonna have my own church service here." As she turned to go, I reached for my Bible and journal, the guilt still eating at me. I was …