Stained glass transmuted morning sunshine into fireworks of rose, butter, and myrrh. Candles swayed to secret music, smoke rising in helical columns to the roof. Somewhere nearby, a girl sang scales. Joey stopped next to an empty pew and closed his eyes. He was at the still center of the world. He understood why people call this the house of God. He laughed, and choirs of angels laughed with him. “Joey, what are you up to back there?” The pastor was standing at the rail.

The neighbors thought it was a publicity stunt at first, a tactic to get media attention or fund a new wing on the church building. Even...