I was curled up on the couch, playing solitaire on my cell phone, when the ad popped up. By reflex, I scrolled past it. Then I noticed the ad was for a church—Passion Church of Tucson. I scrolled back to look.
I had moved from Angola, Indiana (population less than 9,000), to Tucson, Arizona, five years earlier, after meeting my husband, Gordon. Though he and I shared a strong faith, we had different styles of worship. Gordon preferred quiet, solitary prayer. I was more of a joiner. We belonged to a Bible study that met once a week, hosted in the homes of different members. I enjoyed it but found myself hungry for live praise and music.
Still a small-town girl at heart, I found the size of Tucson, with…