Life As Performance Art 176

I will write whatever the fuck I want. That's what I said to my priest last week. I said it with such a sweet little smile on my face, and in a very quiet voice. She said nothing, but looked like she had just swallowed a raw oyster and had forgotten the lemon juice. She doesn't like what I write. Neither does the archbishop. I'm not always nice, you see, and people, when they see me in person, anyway, often have the mistaken notion that I am a nice person. Gentle Reader, I am proud to announce here on these pages that there isn't a nice bone in my body. And I am proud to write this. Anglicans are good at one thing in particular, and I sometimes wonder if it's all that they are good at. Being nice. And they confuse it with kindness, they confuse it with compassion and empathy, they confuse it with love. Nice doesn't cost us a bloody thing. Kindness, compassion, empathy and love are going to cost us, and they are going to cost us dear and without those virtues we are not going to be terribly persuasive as Christians. Being nice to newcomers in church is, well, nice. But it is not the same thing as feeding the poor, letting the homeless, lonely and unwelcome into your home, or seeing that justice is actually done in helping people who have been abused by the church to restore and get on with their lives. I pull no punches. And I always punch up, above my weight because I am not a bully and I certainly am not a coward. Unlike people in the church who treated me like crap, sent me into a downward spiral of nervous breakdowns and homelessness, and now what do I get? An apology from the archbishop and five hundred dollars. Nice. A little bit helpful. But still not enough, and even though she is trying to stonewall me, I am not going to let up the pressure, even if I have to go public. And I just might. I will write whatever the fuck I want. An ex-friend tried to scold me for challenging her politically correct nonsense. Too bad. I am interested in truth, not niceness. I am interested in kindness, not niceness. I am interested in justice, not niceness, I am interested in a Christian discipleship that will cost me everything including my life, not niceness. Niceness is cheap. Niceness is easy Niceness is a cheap trick whore who puts out for the lowest dollar. Notice I am not calling her them, nor a sex worker. She wears pearls, sensible walking shoes, and a tweed suit and a black leather bra underneath with crotchless panties and in her dear little carryall, underneath the packets of lavender tea are hidden her whip and leather handcuffs. And if you ask me about any of this in person, Gentle Reader, I will be, well, nice. Even if I enjoy writing this caustic dreck, Gentle Reader, I do like to get along with everyone.