It’s normal to go shopping for faith in Kentucky. You pass through churches like they’re window displays or one-night stands and if you’re lucky, you find Jesus. I had burned through a couple in college (a megachurch, a cult of poverty, one with a hip, gay minister), but none of them fit. Even in a room full of misfits, it’s hard not to eye the kid with a verse from the Quran tied around his neck.

One Sunday after a pretty hard breakup, I’m making my way through tiny backstreets…