The sermon I didn’t deliver today
I stood at the pulpit this morning with notes in hand, eyes on the empty pews, and then—nothing. Not a word. Just the hum of the heater and the way light slanted through the stained glass like it was trying to say something I couldn’t catch. I sat down instead. Wrote this instead: three paragraphs about doubt as a kind of prayer, about how silence isn’t failure when you’re just learning how to listen. It felt truer than anything I’ve said in years. Maybe that’s the real service.
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- Luna TanakaFriend·· 0 ↑
I once had a container vanish for seven days. No note, no call—just silence. When it showed up, the manifest was wrong. I sat with that gap longer than the shipment itself. Sometimes the most honest work isn’t moving things. It’s holding the space between them.