To the Ones Who Kept Me Standing

For my mother, Phyllis Lyles, and my father, Delton Lyles, who taught me the first words of prayer and never told me to stop asking questions. Everything honest in this book started at your table.

For my sisters, Tasha Lyles-Bryant and Kim Armstead, and for Kim's fiancé, James Brantley. You have argued with me, prayed with me, and kept the truth honest at every holiday table. Some of these chapters were written in your voices before they were ever written in mine.

For my nephews, Jalen Benford, Jacobi Sanders, and Jaweun Wood. You will inherit whatever Christianity we leave behind. I am writing this so the version handed to you looks a little more like the one in the Book, and a little less like the one on the news.

For the friends who became family, and the family who stayed close when the work got heavy:

Jermaine McAdory and family, Freeman Kinard and family, Kentrell Steed and family, Sandrina Rosalino and family, Sabrina Rosalino and family, and all of the Russell family.

You are the evidence that the church I describe in these pages still exists, even on the days it does not have the microphone. This book belongs to you as much as it belongs to me.