I posted something snarky on Facebook the other day after receiving this nasty and biting email (names and identifiers have been changed):
Sarah,
How many times does it take to get you to change my e-address from this one to iamajerk@gmail.com???? Maybe "third times a charm."
Curmudgeon
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I spent an hour on the phone yesterday with a foul-mouthed, rockabilly, former-comedian-turned-pastor who does church by feeding homeless people in a park and having drinks with the local riffraff in neighborhood bars. I was at the end of my rope with many things about how people do "church" and "christianity" and needed an infusion of reality. Ask and ye shall receive.
We talked about how sermons suck and how neither of us could give one hot damn about what some white, middle-class dude says from a shiny pulpit. We talked about how we don't want to hear about Three Steps to Finding Your True Self, or Why Jesus Wants You to Have a BMW, or How To Feel Comfortable in Suburbia. It's empty. And our generation knows this in its core, but it seems that our lethargy and desire for comfort get the best of us.
