Pleasure Milker

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In my early twenties I used to daydream of the perfect job to complement writing. The criteria were these:

It had to be part-time; I wanted hours leftover to write at my desk.

It need not be high-paying; I was a budgeter, lived simply.

And then this: It should require the use of my body…

[Read the whole essay at Good Letters, the Image Journal blog.]

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Knock Knock

 

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If you’d told me at age 20 or so that one day I’d be up in front of several hundred churchgoers, preaching a sermon, I would’ve been shocked. My family didn’t belong to any faith tradition, and if I had to pick one for myself, it definitely would not have been Christianity. Life surprises you.

Sometimes even churches surprise you. I found one with a high appreciation for weirdos. I still can’t believe they keep me around. (And invited me to speak at six months pregnant, when I could barely catch my breath.)

That said: Here’s my first sermon at True North Community Church, delivered Sunday, December 1, 2013. Among other things, I talk about what it’s like to be seeking God, carrying a suitcase full of Big Life Questions, and run into a door full of cultural fine print.

(PS Many thanks to Pastor Bert Crabbe [@BertCrabbe], who gave me the chance to try…and, over the years, has preached many sermons that swung doors wide open for me. Also to Rob Bell, whose CraftLab conference [and Poets Prophets & Preachers series] opened doors of the imagination as I prepared.)

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