The only part of the Super Bowl I watched was the halftime show. It was interesting, mostly because I’m not familiar with Prince’s music, but he is clearly a man with a lot of talent. And a lot of guitars.
I didn’t watch the game because, frankly, I’m not into sports. I never have been. I enjoy playing sports, but not watching them. This can create odd situations for me here in Texas, where football is religion. Recently I was speaking to a group of church people and confessed that I don’t like sports. I was booed. By the church people. Booed.
I don’t get it. I don’t run around trying to make everyone else like what I like. That would be very narrow-minded and kind of stupid. We don’t all like the same things. My not liking sports is not a comment on my sexual orientation or my relationship with my father. I just find them boring.
It has taken me the better part of my three decades to become comfortable admitting that I don’t like sports. Given the way people react, it’s no wonder. Reading Anne Lamott here lately, marveling at the wonder of a former alcoholic, former drug user, cussing Christian female writer, I have begun to realize just how brainwashed I’ve been most of my life. Hell, I worry about what people will think all the time.
Take my use of the word “hell” in that last sentence. Among the people I grew up with, good, solid fundamentalists, cussing (even the “h-word”) is very much frowned upon. But I use strong words when I get mad. I do. I don’t use expletives in place of adjectives because I think that makes you sound stupid, but not really because I find it terribly offensive. I’m supposed to find it offensive. I used to be a minister, for crying out loud—I have to find it offensive. But I don’t.
I worry that no church will ever hire me again if I use that kind of language in my writing, (assuming I’m insane enough to ever want to work for a church again.) I worry that people might not use my Bible study materials or invite me to speak because they are afraid I “send the wrong message.” I get nervous that even my friends and family will hold me at arm’s length, shaking their heads and clicking their tongues as if to say, “We always wondered about that one.”
I should be more worried about being real, being genuine.
Screw it. Who cares what everyone thinks, right? I’m not here for you. I’m devoted to Jesus and I’m not going to live my life worrying that my devotion won’t look like what someone else thinks it should. I’m just going to be real.
If you don’t like that, you are more than welcome to go read some other blog.



















You got booed in church? Amazing. I mean, that has to be some kind of record or something.
left by Mike F. on 02.11.2007 at 5:16 pm