I have a growing collection of books about Christianity in my personal library. These books are not devotionals, commentaries, or other theological pondering from seminary graduates: my shelf is filled with the folks who are willing to ask actual questions and provide unflinching answers about the Bible that wouldn't ever be likely published by the Zondervans or Thomas Nelsons.
I built up my collection of books for my own interests; many of these are healing from my past where I felt fooled into accepting weak answers. In many cases I collect books on the chance I meet someone similar to my younger self who might benefit from better instruction.
I also thought I could use this new knowledge to challenge others who have accepted the simplistic and inaccurate answers fed to them in popular Christian sources. I forgot to consider that the primary reason I started reading these books was because I was seeking answers, not because I was seeking to be challenged. The majority of people whom I meet do not share that desire for understanding; they are actually fine with accepting the things they hear from a pastor, a podcaster, or the latest "Christian living" book slapped together to meet the latest trend.
There are no critical thoughts formed from experiencing news of yet another pastor abusing his church members. There is little time spent on managing the conflict between an unchanging god who endorses slavery in one point of history who then later becomes the one to lead in condemning the practice. There is no late-night insomnia generated from the realization that Christian theology has been formed by the majority overpowering the minority alternative views and labeling them "heretical" so as to villainize them or the ramifications of what "true" Christianity could be in the future should the modern-day problematic denominations -- those seeking to revert women’s rights, remove the queer community from public spaces, and eliminate religious freedom -- gain enough numbers to overpower the rest (look at how the Christians who are trying to offer a more positive alternative are deemed "progressive" as a euphemism for "heretic"). There is little confusion about how a single deity could present contradictory views to different groups of people, or that a person could switch denominations with conflicting theological positions and still be certain to have a deeply personal relationship with that deity that let them be fooled for years. None of this matters to many average Christians; they’re happy with the basics.
I fooled myself into thinking that I can explain calculus to someone who never wanted to advance past addition (and who don't care that their sums aren't even correct). The majority are not looking for complexity and many are afraid to even try. My desire to share what I've learned has overpowered my (admittedly already rather weak) understanding of what people seek to gain out of their own life experiences and what questions they are asking of themselves or what they think.
I keep doing things like this: going on focused searches for something I'm interested in and coming out changed with a stark realization that there aren't that many -- if any -- people around me who want to share in that enthusiasm or even care that the topic can be investigated. What’s worse for me in this topic is that the community with whom I think would benefit the most from learning about what I've read is also among the individuals who find it the least appealing. In an effort to understand more about the community I was around I found myself self-ostracizing.
My library should really just be for me. Maybe one day I’ll come across someone else who wants to pick up my kinds of books and I’ll have a short period of time where I can enthusiastically loan or recommend a series of books, but until then I should accept my weirdness and make a collection that might only ever bring me joy.