I didn't quit going to church entirely till after I started graduate school. For several weeks, I managed to drag myself down to the church house early Sunday morning, but once I stopped, I pretty much stopped cold-turkey.
At the time, I thought it was just because I was discovering sex, drugs,
and rock & roll at an advanced age—my parents would have said that
I was straying from the path of true righteousness. I know now it was because
as soon as I sat down in the pew, I was bored to death. Except for when
I was really mad, because the dope preaching wasn't nearly as smart
as I was. But I could never get up there and preach, even if I'd wanted
to. He had something I didn't. People could tell just by looking at
me that I had to keep my mouth shut, except to say softly, at appropriate
points, "Amen!"