I don’t know you very well but based on who I
am and who I believe at least some of you dear
readers to be I feel a moral obligation to warn
you of a danger, to put narrative on occurrence
occurring with increasing regularity in what
has come to be our fragile fray, to stand if only
in my own two boots and sing an anthem of
resistance to the daily desecration of the holy
via draconian driscollian pieholes filled with  
rave and cant and smoke and mirrors, the
sheer unimaginativity of what passes for
wrestling with angels or walking on water,
a rigmorale of carrots on sticks when grace
is right there under our noses for the nibbling,
controlled infatuation with what sells instead
of a vow to drop the length of the reins and 
bareback hanging on to the shadowfax of
enduring love. This is caveat, by no means
meant to blanket all but pulling back the
covers on some. Dear readers, because of
who I am and who I believe at least some
of you to be, I beg you:
do not so much fear the
approach of wolves as
watch the shepherd’s voice. 

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  1. Vern Hyndman on January 21, 2012 at 10:26 pm

    John, lest I forget to tell you, I love you. Driscolliant pinhole rant indeed.

    Grace is to that what a 30 year old single malt peaty smokey grace is to a watered down cutty roughy nasty blend so called because no single entity wants to take responsibility for it.

    May Eugene’s version of unforced rhythms be slathered all over the lot of us. Particularly you today!

  2. Sandi on January 21, 2012 at 11:04 pm

    There are no words, just touching somewhere deep in silent places.

  3. Bill on January 23, 2012 at 11:35 am

    May there be more singing of anthems of resistance to daily desecrations of the holy

  4. Steve Grove on January 26, 2012 at 10:43 pm

    “draconian driscollian pieholes” heh heh Some elements of our church are just angry and controlling – and the arrogance out of which it rises. I would much rather be not so sure of God and have room for love and grace.

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