Nobody understands us. Most don't really want to.
O, some think they know. Some are compassionate--they assume that funerals are emotionally difficult (they're not always) and that we agonize all week on our twenty-minute sermons (we don't). Others think ministers are lazy (some are, but most of us can outwork you any day of the week, and twice on Sunday). Others think we're so sensitive that we'll faint if you mention sex or use scatological humor.
This ain't no devotional literature. There must be millions of blogs full of nauseating, preachy stuff that you can gag on.
This blog is mainly for me. I need a place where I can sit comfortably, take this damn collar off, and speak unguardedly. Normally, one goes to his friends for this, but I don't have any nearby--I've had to move too often. I can't afford to pay a counselor. So I'll let it loose here.
If it shocks you, then go back to your Sunday School literature and wait for the rapture.
If you're interested, leave a comment. We don't have to agree in order to be friends. If I trust you enough, maybe one day I'll tell you my name.