Damaged Goods

I was nineteen years old and crazy in love with Jesus when that preacher told an auditorium I was “damaged goods” because of my sexual past. He was making every effort to encourage this crowd of young adults to “stay…

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It shouldn’t have worked. But it did.

(RSS readers, you may have to click through to watch the video that introduces this post.) It’s an imperfect sort of story. Aren’t they all? I’ve had many moments like the story I told about “Bullfrogs and Butterflies” in that…

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In which I’m practicing

I have practiced cynicism, like a pianist practices scales, over and over.  I have practiced being defensive – about my choices and my mothering, my theology and my politics – until I was on the offense. I performed, with repetition,…

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In which my heart just sits down

Six people are dead in Wisconsin, dead because they were at the Sikh temple early that day, and motives are still unclear, but oh, my heart, may we, as the people of Jesus, be mourning alongside. I read this article after the…

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