Ravings of a Textual Deviant

I was very new, and very late.

When I reached the far corner of the cemetery, only three men with shovels remained. In spite of that—maybe because of it—I opened myself to the Spirit and preached like I’d never preached before.

“Amen!” shouted the diggers. “Amen!”

I preached about sin, redemption, the hope of Paradise, and about the meek inheriting the earth.

People love that last one.

At the end, I could feel His glory reaching out of the sky, like sundogs.

As I was leaving, one man said “This here’s the blessedest utility box in the state.”

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