“You’re going to feel like hell someday if you don’t tell your story.” As a general rule, I don’t use profanity. Please don’t read any smugness into that statement, as I fight a sharp tongue, sarcasm, and all sorts of other trash talk on a regular basis. I keep Psalm 141:3 on repeat in my prayers as both confession and petition. I do; however, tend to avoid most { read more… }

the Lord’s Supper with a prison spoon.

I had the Lord’s Supper twice on Christmas Eve: One was at an evening church service; the other was lunch at the Hilltop Women’s Prison Unit. One consisted of Broadman’s Traditional Unleavened Bread and grape juice; the other was tamales made out of Doritos, spam, and summer sausage and a Coke Zero. One was served by an ordained pastor and deacons in our church; { read more… }