Even the little dogs...

The church is not the easiest place to be making one's life. I am reminded of Jesus' encounter with the woman with the 12-year haemorrhage, where she suggests that even if she wasn't one of the chosen, the little dogs still feed from the scraps at the master's table.

I am one of the little dogs.

Since I'm not a biblical fundamentalist, a conservative doctrinaire, nor a bond-servant to orthodoxy, I have been told I'm not welcome at the master's table.

But I'm willing to feed on the scraps.


Today's Weigh-in: 223.5 (well fed)