When I say that I am a recovering Pentecostal people often laugh. However, I’m quite serious; I do identify as a recovering Pentecostal and for good reason. I was raised in a Pentecostal church on the outskirts of my hometown, Port Elgin, Ontario, Canada. I don’t know if this is the case at all Pentecostal churches, but the sermons at ours were at least eight hours long. To add insult to injury, only the adults got to have a snack during those marathon sermons.  As a child, I saw that as an injustice of the first order. Eventually, I found