I would way rather have 400 readers a day and be free to write what and how I want and get the occasional donation, speaking gig, mentoring job, book sale, and/or email from someone who tells me I have helped shore them up or made them laugh or deepened their love for Christ than to have my work appear on the same page as any kind of promotion and get 4000 readers an hour.
In fact, that I have 400 readers a day is such a miracle and the whole subject of the writing life so sets me on fire that I'm planning a series of posts on this very issue.
So the blog stays with me. And with deep gratitude to Elizabeth, and hopes to occasionally continue to appear in their pages, as of last week I bowed out of Patheos.
With all due reverence, respect, adoration, worship, and praise, if Christ--my Lord and King--did not play from his fucking heart, I don’t know who did. So I beg to differ. To play from your fucking heart is about as Catholic as you can get. And as long as I can afford to, and have the energy, I mean to keep trying to do it myself."
My response: I was not raised with profanity and am no fan of it; however, the 'profanation' in the Church and the world today makes the 'oh, so shocked' response inane at best. Just as Christ can handle anger and our other sins and embraces us in love, so should we get off our high horse and 'fall on our face' before His Love for all.
I had a dream recently and realized plumbers can't fix anything in a flood AND plumbers better be able to handle getting their hands, etc., dirty. I wonder what all those standing around in their clean, golden robes thought about Jesus when he reached down for some dirt, spit on it and rubbed it in the eye sockets of the blind man. Did they go, oooooooh....?
"Go, learn what this means. I desire mercy, not sacrifice." Gert Behanna is still great: "Fisher of men, whose pool?"
So, Heather King, you go, girl. You just 'shored me up.'
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