This memoir about a Bay-Area writer's return to her religion is interesting, and strangely enough, brave, but for seemingly wrong reasons. Throughout the book, Oakes is constantly defending her journey of faith to her so-described progressive, punk, alterna-brethren, who seem to come off as less tolerant of diversity than the supposedly close-minded church-going folk she's supposed to be criticizing. It's almost as if reading the diary of a guilty soul who constantly needs to explain herself, or a middle school girl who is nervous of being kicked out of the cool clique because she's caught reading Nancy Drew instead of L8r, g8r. There are some excellent parts, such as when she discusses finding God in community, collaboration, and in each other, or when exploring the nature of Wisdom, and, most of all, when discovering the connection between everyday life and the divine - particularly during her trip to Assisi. However, since it is such a personal story that consists of a lot of bitterness, defensiveness, and distrust, I couldn't help but feel a sense of pity for the fact that she seems so spiritually constrained by the same community she calls her own.