On her 29th birthday, while her guests were arriving downstairs, Reba Riley was supposedly upstairs getting dressed. In actuality, she was slumped on the floor succumbing to the Universal Law of Meltdowns, which means sobbing about everything from the meaning of life to the pile of dirty laundry on the floor, which contained the under-garments she wanted to wear to her party.
Life without God was crashing in on her. And she was sick and tired of feeling sick and tired. She uttered a desperate prayer: “please heal me.” Then the idea came to her—thirty by thirty. And thus she embarked on a year-long quest to experience thirty religions by her thirtieth birthday, in which she . . .
once again darkened the door of her first church (because to heal a badly broken bone first you have to break it again).
was interrogated about her sex life by Amish grandmothers.
disco danced in a Buddhist temple.
fasted for thirty days without food—not even wine!
washed her lady parts in a mosque bathroom.
discovered her animal totem, which made loud screechy noises.
was audited by Scientologists, mobbed by NPR junkies, and killed (almost).
learned to meditate with an Urban Monk.
sucked mud in a sweat lodge with Suburban Shaman.
snuck into a Yom Kippur service with a fake grandpa in tow. and finally discovered she didn’t have to choose a religion to choose God.
In a debut memoir that is as crazy-funny as it is earnest, Reba Riley offers balm for the walking wounded of Post-Traumatic Church Syndrome. Her generous and open spirit invites questioners, doubters, misfits, and curious believers alike to share the universal search to heal what life has broken.
Are you longing for redemption of body, mind, or soul but don’t know where to start? Post-Traumatic Church Syndrome will take you by the hand and remind you that sometimes you first have to be lost in order to be found.