This morning, I heard Oprah say that she’s at a place in her life where she doesn’t interact with people she doesn’t want to see. Dearest Oprah, how do I get to that stage?
Much like my post-graduate education, I am paying for this thing that I don’t use all that much.
“He’s out there living his life, and I’m over here stress-eating jicama.”
I wish you a journey of yellow lights with a bored, smalltown cop riding behind you the entire time. I wish you lactose sensitivities and a gluten allergy at a restaurant that says they have a full gluten-sensitive menu but really only serves two salads. I hope that one of them is your all-time favorite salad and that while you’re enjoying it, a delicious bite goes down the wrong pipe and causes your life to flash before your eyes. I hope that someone in the room learned CPR about three years ago and saves your life, but also cracks a few ribs in the process. The therapist said that I’m not supposed to waste my time wishing you ill so instead, I wish you regularly inconvenienced.
I mean, if God wants to be cool with evil people, that’s his choice, but that’s a dealbreaker for some people. He shouldn’t hide behind Old English and metaphor. He should be upfront about that.
Christians need to be careful when talking about grace and forgiveness because they can have people thinking that God cares more about the reputation of the oppressor over the actual lives of the oppressed.
Oh! Hey. It’s been a minute…