I spent my summers a spy in a Jesus Tree in our front yard. Our front yard was an imperfect square of green, with a telephone pole in one corner near the street, near our neighbor to the left, and a mailbox on a post in the other. Our driveway bordered to the right, our…
Every few weeks I encounter a minister on the subway. They surprise me, a sudden voice projecting from the far end of whatever car I’m in. These sermons occur more often on colder days. Heat and humidity seem to limit the Holy Spirit aboard the MTA. I’ve heard variations on the Anointed Word ranging from…