When I was a kid, I used to worry that if I got to heaven I wouldn’t like it.
We were taught in Sunday School that heaven was all and light and peace and good times, but I had doubts. I knew Satan wasn’t happy there, and it wasn’t just him- the book of Revelations said there were legions of angels equally unhappy that joined with him. If they were unhappy there, how could I know for certain that I wouldn’t be unhappy, too?
I also began to wonder why, if God were truly omnipotent, so many angels would take up an inherently hopeless cause by rebelling against Him.
When I was fifteen I was confirmed in the Catholic church, and at that time you take the name of a saint you feel a special fondness for. I picked St. Thomas, because I had doubts, too.
You can probably figure out how this particular spiritual journey ended.